Notwithstanding his alarm, the cardinal had time to whisper to the latter: “He thinks himself poisoned. He must therefore be plotting something very dangerous.”
The door of the room opened. It was Dr. Baleinier.
“Oh, doctor!” cried the princess, as she ran pale and frightened towards him; “Father Rodin has been suddenly attacked with terrible convulsions. Quick! quick!”
“Convulsions? oh! it will be nothing, madame,” said the doctor, throwing down his hat upon a chair, and hastily approaching the group which surrounded the sick man.
“Here is the doctor!” cried the princess. All stepped aside, except Father d’Aigrigny, who continued to support Rodin, leaning against a chair.
“Heavens! what symptoms!” cried Dr. Baleinier, examining with growing terror the countenance of Rodin, which from green was turning blue.
“What is it?” asked all the spectators, with one voice.
“What is it?” repeated the doctor, drawing back as if he had trodden upon a serpent. “It is the cholera! and contagious!”
On this frightful, magic word, Father d’Aigrigny abandoned his hold of Rodin, who rolled upon the floor.
“He is lost!” cried Dr. Baleinier. “But I will run to fetch the means for a last effort.” And he rushed towards the door.