"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."