“From what province?”
“A Soboleska, of Pinsk.”
“Very good; monsieur is your father?”
“Yes.”
“Monsieur,” he said, turning to the old man; “your wife—”
“Is dead;” said Monsieur Bernard.
“Was she very fair?” said Halpersohn, showing a slight impatience at being interrupted.
“Here is her portrait,” said Monsieur Bernard, unhooking from the wall a handsome frame which enclosed several fine miniatures.
Halpersohn felt the head and handled the hair of the patient while he looked at the portrait of Vanda Tarlowska, born Countess Sobolewska.
“Relate to me the symptoms of your illness,” he said, placing himself on the sofa and looking fixedly at Vanda during the twenty minutes the history, given alternately by the father and daughter, lasted.