"Do not fear. I wish you to see the Marquis at once."
The Marquise clasped the bracelet of her husband's hair convulsively, and then uttering a cry of joy, said:
"It is he—Henri, Henri, I see him."
She extended her arms as if to embrace him. The flush which had covered her face was soon succeeded by a mortal pallor.
"What is the matter?" asked the doctor.
"Oh God!" said she, "he does not see me. He passes by without looking at me. Whither does he go? Why is he so sad? Why is his hair so disordered? Why? why?"
The tone in which these words were uttered were so deeply sorrowful, that the doctor reached forward his hand and said to the Prince: "Must I awaken the Marquise?" Before the Prince could reply, Aminta stood erect and said, "No! I will go with him. Henri, Henri! for pity's sake do not. I never will forgive you! Henri, you would not commit perjury? My God!" said she, clasping her hands, "he will go thither! Fatal, terrible passion!"
She then shed tears, and fell back into the arms of Marie, who sustained her.
"Enough, doctor, enough!" said Marie, "I beseech you. She suffers, you see. She shall not do so. I will not consent to."
The doctor took the young woman's hand, and prepared to arouse her from this condition and to restore her to real life. Just then the Prince de Maulear, with intense agony on his face, rushed towards his daughter-in-law, repelling Matheus.