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e your old Leon capable of losing herself in sleep, when your future depends upon a word from that poor man lying there?" "Pray, cease." "Ah, no! my dear young lady; my love for you compels me." "Oh, enough!" interrupted Mademoiselle Marguerite; "enough, Leon!" Her tone was so determined that the housekeeper was compelled to yield; but not without a deep sigh, not without an imploring glance to Heaven, as if calling upon Providence to witness the purity of her motives and the usefulness of her praiseworthy efforts. "At least, my dear lady, wrap yourself up warmly. Shall I go and bring you your heavy travelling shawl?" "Thanks, my dear Leon--Annette will bring it." "Then, pray, send for it. But we are not going to watch alone? What should we do if we needed anything?" "I will call," replied Marguerite. This was unnecessary, for Dr. Jodon's departure from the house had put an abrupt termination to the servants' conference; and they were now assembled on the landing, anxious and breathless, and peering eagerly into the sick-room. Mademoiselle Marguerite went toward them. "Madame Leon and myself will remain with the count," she said. "Annette"--this was the woman whom she liked best of all the servants "Casimir and a footman will spend the night in the little side salon. The others may retire." Her orders were obeyed. Two o'clock sounded from the church-tower near by, and then the solemn and terrible silence was only broken by the hard breathing of the unconscious man and the implacable ticktack of the clock on the mantel-shelf, numbering the seconds which were left for him to live. From the streets outside, not a sound reached this princely abode, which stood between a vast courtyard and a garden as large as a park. Moreover, the straw which had been spread over the paving-stones effectually deadened the rumble of the few vehicles that passed. Enveloped in a soft, warm shawl, Madame Leon had again taken possession of her arm-chair, and while she pretended to be reading a prayer-book, she kept a close watch over her dear young lady, as if she were striving to discover her in-most thoughts. Mademoiselle Marguerite did not suspect this affectionate espionage. Besides, what would it have mattered to her? She had rolled a low arm-chair near the bedside, seated herself in it, and her eyes were fixed upon M. de Chalusse. Two or three times she started violently, and once even she said to Madame Leon: "Come-
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