III.
"But, as I said, it was a long time before those experiments were concluded—before the great problems of life and wealth were solved. Nine months had passed since Raymond had come, dusty and travel-stained, like a beggar to the master's door, asking for crumbs of knowledge. It was the consummation of their life's success. The very next morning after that consummation came ruin. A blow, sharp and terrible, fell upon the house.
"It was late, and the master had not yet made his appearance. Raymond Lulli, passing along the hall-way with a book under his arm, met Agnes at a door-way.
"'My father,' said she, 'has not yet come down from his room.'
"'I will call him, Agnes,' said Raymond, and then she noticed that his face was as pale as ashes.
"'Are you ill, Raymond?' she asked.
"'No—yes, I am ill,' he shuddered. 'I will go and call your father.' And he turned away.
"Agnes stood watching him as he, with slow, heavy steps, climbed the steep stairs that led to the master's room above. She watched him as he reached the door and knocked; and then, after a pause, knocked again, and then again; she watched him as he laid his hand hesitatingly upon the latch, and then raised it, and pushed open the door.
"The next moment the heavy book slipped from under his arm, and fell with a crash to the floor. 'Agnes!' he cried, 'your father!' And then his voice rang through the house: 'Jean! Franquois! Joseph! The master, help!—the master!'