a doctor.

At first he had tried to lead her down the hillside, along the winding
paths of the gardens, his hands around her shoulders. It was too slow.
Twice the moaning girl had tripped over unseen obstacles. Then he caught
her up in his arms and ran with her, the shadows of the trees and the
undergrowth clutching at him like mocking shapes in a Dantesque vision
of the nether world.

Even when down below the hillside, by the aqueduct, they were still far
from the Villa Clementine and yet farther from Elaine's hotel by the
station. Some conveyance was imperative. But in a quiet country town
like Nimes there are no cabs to be found wandering around at night-time.
Nor was there carriage or motor-car in sight.

A peasant's cart drawn by a tiny donkey came providentially to solve the
problem. Riviere laid Elaine on the straw of the cart; snatched the
reins from the owner; drove home at frantic speed; had her put to bed in
his own room by Mme Giras; 'phoned imperatively for a doctor and a
nurse.

And now he waited in straining anxiety for the verdict. The waiting was
more horrible than the nightmare flight through the shadows of the
garden on the hillside. That at all events had been action; now he was
being stretched in passive helplessness on the rack of Time.

After an aeon of waiting, the doctor left the sick-room and closed the
door noiselessly behind him. Riviere looked him square in the eye.

"I want the truth," he said in French. The words sounded as though his
throat had closed in tight around them.

"We must wait until the morning before it will be possible that we may
say definitely," replied the doctor.

"To say if----?"

"If we can save the right eye."

"The left?"

"I greatly fear----" A slight gesture of his two hands completed the
sentence.

"It's ghastly! That _beast_----!"

"But you must not despair," continued the doctor in an endeavour to be
optimistic. "Madame is strong and healthy. She has a very sound
constitution, and in such a case as this it is a most important factor
in the recovery. You may rely on me to do my utmost. I have great hopes
that we may save the right eye of madame, your wife."

"Mademoiselle," corrected Riviere mechanically.

"Mademoiselle," amended the doctor with a formal little bow.

"You will come again later to-night?"

"That would serve no useful purpose. I have injected a large dose of
morphine, and mademoiselle is on the point of sleep. I have left full