ow to aid him!"

"But I am no less ignorant, mademoiselle," said I; "would that I could
be of any use to you!"

"Oh, come," cried she, "come; and Heaven may direct you how to succor
us, for we are utterly deserted!"

Scarcely knowing what I did, I followed the little girl into a darkened
room, where the long-drawn breathings of the wounded man were the only
sounds. By the dim half-light I could see a figure seated at the foot
of the bed. It was my hostess, pale, stern-looking, and collected;
there she sat, gazing at the gasping object before her, with a terrible
composure.

"Mamma, it is monsieur; monsieur who lives here is come to see papa,"
whispered Marguerite, timidly.

The mother nodded her head, as if to imply that she had heard her, but
never spoke. I drew nigh the bed, the rather to show my sympathy with
the sorrow, than that I could be of any service; and the dying man's
eyes met mine. Glazed and filmy as they seemed at first, I fancied they
grew bright and lustrous as he continued to stare. Such, at all events,
was their fascination that I could not look away from them, and so I
stood under that steadfast gaze forgetful even of the state of him who
bestowed it. At last the orbs slowly turned, at first towards where his
wife sat, then to Marguerite as she knelt by the bedside, and then back
again to me, with an expression that needed no words to convey. I took
the clammy hand in my own, and felt the fingers give a faint pressure. I
squeezed them gently, and saw that his lips parted; they moved, too,
as though with an effort to speak, but without avail. The attempt had
evidently cost him a severe pang, for his features were convulsed for a
few seconds, at the end of which he gently drew me a little towards him,
and with a sigh so faint as to be scarcely heard, uttered the words,
"Pauvre femme!"

It was not until some minutes had elapsed that I saw he had ceased
to breathe, for his eyes seemed to stare with meaning on me, and his
countenance remained unchanged. At length, however, I became conscious
that the struggle was over, and his spirit had passed away forever. The
stillness of the room was terrible, for not a stir broke it; and I knelt
down beside Marguerite to pray.

"Here is the surgeon, mademoiselle," said Lizette, hurriedly; and an old
man drew nigh the bed and touched the wrist of the dead man.

"Ma foi!" said he, "this is the fourth time I have been sent for to-day
on a like errand;" and, so