and she held, shook it a
little, and called out to him again in a hoarser tone; but there was no
answer.

Bertha burst into tears, and knelt down sobbing by the bed.

"Hush!" said the countess, angrily. "You will disturb him. Why do you
cry so? It is nothing serious,--nothing _very_ serious;" and she looked
around appealingly, her eyes resting, in spite of herself, upon
Madeleine.

"We must hope not," said the latter, now venturing to draw near. "The
doctor will be here again shortly, and, if you would permit me to
advise, I would suggest that Count Tristan should remain undisturbed."

"I only ask that he will speak to me once!" exclaimed the countess, in
peevish distress. "A _mother_ may demand that! Do you not hear me, my
son? Why, why will you not answer?"

Her voice was raised to a high pitch, but it did not seem to reach the
ears of the insensible man.

Voices in the entry attracted Madeleine's attention; the sound of
well-known tones reached her ears, and she hastily left the room.

The servant was communicating to Maurice the sad event which had just
taken place. Madeleine beckoned her cousin to follow to her boudoir,
and, in a few words, recounted what had just taken place.

Maurice had listened, too completely awe-stricken for language, until
Madeleine rose and asked, "Will you not go to him now, Maurice?"

Then he ejaculated, "How mysteriously all things are ordered, Madeleine!
Truly you are the ministering angel of our family!"

As Maurice, with Madeleine, entered the chamber where Count Tristan lay,
the countess experienced a revulsion of feeling at beholding them side
by side, and cried out, in a louder tone than seemed natural in that
chamber at such a moment,--

"Maurice! Maurice! I have wanted you so much to advise me! You see your
father's condition: he does not seem to recognize us; but it cannot be
anything serious. The great point is to make arrangements for removing
him at once to the hotel. You must attend to that; I wish no time to be
lost."

Maurice was gazing in dumb anguish upon his father's altered face, and,
though no tears moistened his eyes, his frame shook with emotion far
more painful to man than weeping is to woman.

"You will see to his immediate removal," repeated his grandmother,
authoritatively, finding that he did not notice her request.

"That cannot be done with safety, I feel certain," answered Maurice.

"But he cannot remain here," persisted the countess. "He m