Mme. Daubrel took them to the bedside. The poor mother scarcely knew them.
At this moment a carriage was heard to stop before the house; the bell was rung; some moments passed, and a man, pale, and with uncovered head, appeared on the threshold of the room.
It was Pierre Olsdorf. On reaching the Grand Hotel he had found Vera's letter, and had hurried thither.
"The prince!" cried Mme. Podoi, with an ineffable expression of gratitude.
"He," murmured Vera, growing pale.
As if the word "prince" spoken by her mother had suddenly revived her, Lise raised herself and uttered a cry.
The Russian nobleman quickly drew near to the woman who had borne his name.
"You?" she said, raising herself as if galvanized. "Can you pardon me?"
"I think of nothing now, Lise, but that you are suffering," replied Pierre Olsdorf, pressing softly in his the suppliant hands which the unhappy woman raised to him.
"Then I can die. Pierre Alexandrowich, listen to me. Vera, come near—very near. Lose not a word, either of you. Oh, God! give me strength. Pierre, Vera loves you. She is a noble and saintly girl. When I am dead you will have the right to marry again. Promise me that she shall be the mother of my children—promise it!"