opened her large eyes, sunken by disease. Let her terror and alarm be
imagined. While a crowd of men surrounded her bed and followed her every
motion with their eyes, she felt the hand of the doctor throw back the
covering, and slip into the bed in order to feel her pulse.

Collecting all her strength, with a voice of anguish and affright, she
cried: "Mother! help, mother!"

By a chance almost providential, at the moment when the cries of Miss de
Fermont made the old Count de Saint Rerny start from his chair, for he
recognized the voice, the door of the hall opened, and a young woman,
dressed in mourning, entered precipitately, accompanied by the director of
the hospital. This was Lady d'Harville.

"In mercy, sir," said she to the director, with the greatest anxiety,
"conduct me to Miss de Fermont."

"Be good enough to follow me, my lady," answered the director,
respectfully. "She is at No. 17, in this hall."

"Unfortunate child! here, here!" said Lady d'Harville, wiping her eyes;
"oh, it is frightful!"

Preceded by the director, she advanced rapidly toward the group assembled
around the bed, when these words were heard, pronounced with indignation:
"I tell you that it is murder--you will kill her, sir."

"But, my dear Saint Reiny, listen then--"

"I repeat to you, sir, that your conduct is atrocious. I regard Miss de