Maurice and Robert carried him to the bed he had before occupied; and Madeleine sent for Dr. Bayard in all haste.
The count lay quite still, save for that heavy breathing and the convulsive motion of his features. Madeleine and Maurice stood beside him in silence, with hands interlocked.
Dr. Bayard arrived, looked at the patient, shook his head, and, turning to Maurice, said, in a low tone,—
"There is nothing to be done."
"But see," answered Maurice, clinging to a faint hope, "he is getting over it,—he seems better."
"It is the third stroke," replied the doctor, significantly, as he was leaving the room.
Madeleine heard these words, though they were spoken in an undertone, and she followed Maurice and the physician from the apartment.
"Do you mean," she inquired of the physician, in accents of deep sorrow, "it is impossible for Count Tristan to recover from this shock?"
"My dear young lady, I am unwilling to say that anything is impossible. The longer a physician practises, the more he realizes that we cannot judge of possibilities; but, in my experience, I have never known a case of apoplexy that survived the third stroke."
"He will die, then? Oh, will he die?"