"What do you mean?" cried the marquise, angrily. "You announce the vicomte and lock the door instead of opening it?"
"My lord," said the servant, turning to the marquis.
The expression of the man's face was such that the nobleman felt his heart stand still with terror, and in a faint voice he stammered:
"Madeleine, let Baptiste speak."
"The—vicomte—is dead," stammered Baptiste.
A cry of despair came from the marquise's lips, while the unfortunate father looked at the messenger in a daze. He did not seem to know what was the matter.
But soon the terrible significance of the words was made clear to him. Heavy steps were heard in the corridor. They ceased at the door, and now—now four men entered the parlor and laid gently on the floor the burden they had been carrying. The burden was a bier, covered with a cloth, under which could be seen the outlines of a human form.
Neither the marquis nor Madeleine had the courage to raise the cover. In a daze they both stared at the bier and the pallbearers, and only when Gaston de Ferrette, Talizac's friend, stepped on the threshold of the door did life return to the unhappy parents.
"Gaston, what has happened?" cried the marquis in despair, as he imploringly held his hand toward the young man.
"He is dead," replied Gaston, in a hollow voice.