"And the doctor?"
"He has not come yet. I have sent for him."
"They should have taken the carriage."
"Yes. Cyriaque has gone."
"Are you sure? There is no time to lose."
This was no simulation on my part. I was sincere. I could not let the Innocent die like that, without making an attempt to save him. In presence of his almost cadaveric aspect, although my crime was on the point of being consummated, pity, remorse, and grief seized my soul. While waiting for the doctor, I was not less distracted than my mother. I rang. A servant answered.
"Has Cyriaque gone?"
"Yes, signor."
"On foot?"
"No, signor; in the carriage."