he floor. One glance at his distorted face, and at the
foam issuing from his lips, one sound of that stertorous breathing was
enough. Maurice and Madeleine knew that he had been struck with apoplexy
for the third time!

Maurice and Robert carried him to the bed he had before occupied; and
Madeleine sent for Dr. Bayard in all haste.

The count lay quite still, save for that heavy breathing and the
convulsive motion of his features. Madeleine and Maurice stood beside
him in silence, with hands interlocked.

Dr. Bayard arrived, looked at the patient, shook his head, and, turning
to Maurice, said, in a low tone,--

"There is nothing to be done."

"But see," answered Maurice, clinging to a faint hope, "he is getting
over it,--he seems better."

"It is the third stroke," replied the doctor, significantly, as he was
leaving the room.

Madeleine heard these words, though they were spoken in an undertone,
and she followed Maurice and the physician from the apartment.

"Do you mean," she inquired of the physician, in accents of deep sorrow,
"it is _impossible_ for Count Tristan to recover from this shock?"

"My dear young lady, I am unwilling to say that anything is
_impossible_. The longer a physician practises, the more he realizes
that we cannot judge of _possibilities_; but, in my experience, I have
never known a case of apoplexy that survived the third stroke."

"He will die, then? Oh, will he die?"

"His life, for the last two months, has been a living death," replied
the physician, kindly. "Could you wish to prolong such an existence?"

The doctor took his leave, promising to return, but frankly avowing that
his presence was needless. As soon as he had gone, Madeleine said to
Maurice, who appeared to be so much stunned by this new blow that he was
incapable of reflection,--

"Your poor grandmother,--O Maurice, what a terrible task lies before
you! You will have to break this news to her. She must want to see him
once more, and he may not linger long. You have not a moment to lose."

"I feel as though I could not go to her," answered Maurice. "What good
can she do here? She will only insult you again; and, if my father
should revive, her words may render his last moments wretched. Let him
die in peace."

Madeleine replied,--

"She may be softened by the presence of the angel of death. She may long
to hear one parting word of tenderness from his lips, and utter one in
return. Go, I beseech you! Go and bri