The last words were uttered with a significance that increased Bonnivet's uneasiness.
“Do not conceal the truth from me, doctor,” he said. “The certainty, however dreadful, would be more tolerable than suspense.”
“What purpose will it answer to tell you what I think?” rejoined Nardi. “Be advised by me, and leave the palace without delay. Every moment you remain here increases the risk.”
“Ha!” ejaculated Bonnivet, horror-stricken. “I now understand. But I will not leave her.”
“As you please, monseigneur,” said Nardi. “I have warned you.”
“Stay, I implore of you,” cried Bonnivet, detaining him. “Is there any means of saving her?”
“Alas! none,” replied Nardi. “She is beyond the power of medicine. I have seen too many fatal cases lately to be mistaken. She has all the worst symptoms about her. Before to-morrow morning she will be a corpse.”
“Oh! say not so, doctor!” cried Bonnivet, distractedly.
“You are never content,” rejoined Nardi, petulantly, “You try to extract the truth from me, and when I yield to your importunities, you are dissatisfied. You now know the worst. Act as you think proper; but if you would not yourself fall a victim to the pestilence, you will leave the palace as expeditiously as possible. I will send a nurse to attend upon the countess, and a priest to minister to her soul's welfare.”
“I cannot, will not, leave her,” rejoined Bonnivet, rushing back to the saloon.