On his last visit the doctor looked very grave as he departed.
'Can nothing be done to save her?' implored the Countess, in a tremulous voice.
'Nothing in my power, Grafine. Her disease is of the mind—the mind alone. Your daughter—I deplore to say it—is dying!'
'Of what, Herr Doctor? Of what?
'To me, it seems—of a broken heart!'
'Impossible!' replied the Countess; 'people do not die of broken hearts, and grief does not kill.'
CHAPTER XXI.
AT AIX ONCE MORE.
So, like Heinrich, Charlie had fallen into the 'enemy's hands;' but fortunately for him, they were the soft and gentle ones of little Célandine de Caillé.
The passage of the ball had seriously injured him internally; thus he was long in recovering, and the winter of the year was almost at hand ere he could venture to travel; but it now seemed imperative to Charlie that he should trespass on his host and hostess no longer.