ot die--his countenance has lost that terrible,
hippocratic look that had settled upon it last evening when I first saw
him--his pulse is stronger, his breathing free and natural. Besides, he
MUST live--his recovery will make my fortune. I must and will tear him
out of the grim clutches of Death--fine, handsome, young fellow that he
is, and the heir and hope of his noble family--it will be long ere his
tomb need be made ready to receive him. He will help me to get away from
this wretched little village, where I vegetate ignobly, and eat my
heart out day by day. Now for a bold stroke!--at the risk of producing
fever--at all risks--I shall venture to give him a dose of that
wonder-working potion of mine." Opening his case of medicines, he took
out several small vials, containing different preparations--some red as
a ruby, others green as an emerald--this one yellow as virgin gold,
that bright and colourless as a diamond--and on each one a small label
bearing a Latin inscription. Maitre Laurent, though he was perfectly
sure of himself, carefully read the inscriptions upon those he had
selected several times over, held up the tiny vials one after another,
where a ray of sunshine struck upon them, and looked admiringly through
the bright transparent liquids they contained--then, measuring with the
utmost care a few drops from each, compounded a potion after a secret
recipe of his own; which he made a mystery of, and refused to impart to
his fellow practitioners. Rousing his sleeping assistant, he ordered him
to raise the patient's head a little, while, with a small spatula, he
pried the firmly set teeth apart sufficiently to allow the liquid he
had prepared to trickle slowly into the mouth. As it reached the throat
there was a spasmodic contraction that gave Maitre Laurent an instant
of intense anxiety--but it was only momentary, and the remainder of the
dose was swallowed easily and with almost instantaneous effect. A slight
tinge of colour showed itself in the pallid cheeks, the eyelids trembled
and half unclosed, and the hand that had lain inert and motionless upon
the counterpane stirred a little. Then the young duke heaved a deep
sigh, and opening his eyes looked vacantly in about him, like one
awakening from a dream, or returning from those mysterious regions
whither the soul takes flight when unconsciousness holds this mortal
frame enthralled. Only a glance, and the long eyelashes fell again upon
the pale cheeks--but a