"Alas! poor old nobleman," said the Irish beauty, Kathleen; "his often-expressed wish does not appear destined to be fulfilled! How frequently has he declared that he should die contented if surrounded by ourselves, and with a goblet of champagne at his lips!"
Scarcely were these words uttered, when the door of the apartment opened abruptly; and the Marquis made his appearance.
The five women started from their seats, uttering exclamations of joy.
The Marquis bolted the door with great caution, and then advanced towards his ladies with a smile upon his haggard, pale, and death-like countenance.
Indeed, it was with the greatest difficulty that the young women could restrain a murmur of surprise—almost of disgust—when, as he drew nearer towards them, they beheld the fearful ravages which a few hours' illness had made upon his face. The extent of those inroads was moreover enhanced by the absence of his false teeth, which he had not time to fix in his mouth ere he escaped from the thraldom of his physicians: so that the thinness of his cheeks was rendered almost skeleton-like by the sinking in of his mouth.
The superb dressing-gown seemed a mockery of the shrivelled and wasted form which it loosely wrapped; and as the old nobleman staggered towards his mistresses, whose first ebullition of joy at his appearance was so suddenly shocked by the ghastly hideousness of his aspect, they had not strength nor presence of mind to hasten to meet him.
Kathleen was the first to conquer her aversion and dismay; and she caught the Marquis in her arms just at the instant when, overcome by the exertions of the last few minutes, he was about to sink beneath the weight of sheer exhaustion.
Then the other women crowded forward to lend their aid; and the old nobleman was placed upon one of the luxurious ottomans.
He closed his eyes, and seemed to breathe with great difficulty.
"Oh! my God—he is dying!" exclaimed Kathleen: "ring for aid—for the physicians——"