He was shown to the cot whereon the once famous beauty rested, her drawn face now whiter than the drapery of her cot.
The eyes were closed, the sheet pulled up so that none of the disfiguring bandages about the shapely throat could be seen.
"Is she sleeping?" he asked of the physician who stood beside him.
"One can never tell. She lies like that all the time, and will answer no questions that are put to her."
"Will she—live?"
"Oh, yes! There is no reason why she should not! At first I was very positive it would be a fatal case, but we succeeded in stanching the blood sooner than I hoped for. She has lost a great deal however, and could not have stood much more. We have to watch her all the time, however, for fear she will attempt it again, and another opening of the artery would certainly prove fatal."
"Have I your permission to speak to her if she will answer me?"
"Certainly, only you must be careful that she does not exert herself in the very least. Keep her in exactly the position that she now is, and if the slightest thing should happen, I will be within call. If she should take it into her head to talk to you, do not allow her to utter more than a few words at a time and those very softly; you understand?"
"I think so."
"I shall be only out of earshot."