een able to collect for the sufferer, and, as it was far from being
sufficiently positive to calm the patient, she promised, if she heard
anything herself, to report it directly.

In the meantime the doctor arrived. Great as was his command over
himself, it was easy to see that he thought Bathilde in some danger--he
bled her abundantly, ordered refreshing drinks, and advised that some
one should watch at the bedside. Emilie and Athenais, who, their little
absurdities excepted, were excellent girls, declared directly that that
was their business, and that they would pass the night with Bathilde
alternately; Emilie, as eldest, claimed the first watch, which was given
her without contest. As to Buvat, since he could not remain in the room,
they asked him to return home; a thing to which he would not consent
till Bathilde herself had begged it. The bleeding had somewhat calmed
her, and she seemed to feel better; Madame Denis had left the room;
Mademoiselle Athenais also had retired; Monsieur Boniface, after
returning from the Morgue, where he had been to pay a visit to the body
of Roquefinette, had mounted to his own room, and Emilie watched by the
fire-place, and read a little book which she took from her pocket. She
shortly heard a movement in the bed, and ran toward it; then, after an
instant's silence, during which she heard the opening and shutting of
two or three doors, and before she had time to say--"That is not the
voice of Monsieur Raoul, it is the Abbe Brigaud," Bathilde had fallen
back on her pillow.

An instant afterward Madame Denis half opened the door, and in a
trembling voice called Emilie, who kissed Bathilde and went out.

Suddenly Bathilde was aroused; the abbe was in the room next to hers,
and she thought that she heard him pronounce Raoul's name. She now
remembered having several times seen the abbe at D'Harmental's rooms;
she knew that he was one of the most intimate friends of Madame de
Maine; she thought, then, that the abbe must bring news of him. Her
first idea was to slip from the bed, put on a dressing-gown, and go and
ask what had happened; but she considered that if the news was bad they
would not tell it, and that it would be better to overhear the
conversation, which appeared animated. Consequently she pressed her ear
to the panel, and listened as if her whole life had been spent in
cultivating that single sense.

Brigaud was relating to Madame Denis what had happened. Valef had made
his