"How long is it since he slept?" asked the lady, for she noted the drooping head of the man now reclining upon the couch.
"Not for many days and nights," replied the Swiss. "He has for the last few days been under much strain. But shall I not assist you, Madame? You are, perhaps—pardon me, since I do not know your relationship with monsieur—"
"A friend of years ago. I knew Mr. Law when he lived in England."
"I perceive. Perhaps Madame would be alone for a time? If you please, I will seek aid."
They approached the side of the couch. Law's head lay back upon the cushions. His breath came deeply and slowly, not stertorously nor labored.
"How strange," whispered the Swiss, "he sleeps!"
Such was indeed the truth. The iron nature, so long overwrought, now utterly unstrung, had yielded for the first time to the stress of nature and of events. The relief from what he had taken to be death had come swiftly, and the reaction brought a lethal calm of its own. If he had indeed recognized the face of the woman who had touched him with her hand, it was as though he had witnessed her in a vision, a dream bitter and troubled, since it was a dream impossible to be true.
The Swiss looked still hesitatingly at the lady who had thus strangely come upon the scene, noticing her sweet and tender mouth, her cheeks just faintly tinged with pink, her eyes shining with a soft, mysterious radiance. She approached the couch and laid both her hands upon the face of the unconscious man. Tears sprang within her eyes and fell from her dark lashes. The old servant looked up at her, simply.
"Madame would be alone with monsieur?" asked he. "It will be better."
Lady Catharine Knollys, left alone, gazed upon the sleeper. John Law, the failure, lay there, supine, abased, cast-down, undone, shorn utterly of his old arrogance of mind and mien. Fortune, wealth, even the boon of physical well-being—all had fled from him. The pride of a superb manhood had departed from the lines of this limp figure. The cheeks were lined and sunken, the eye, even had the lid not covered it, lacked the late convincing fire. No longer commanding, no longer strong, no longer gay and debonair, he lay, a man whose fate was failure, as he himself had said.