“She lives!” she cried, springing to her feet in an instant. “You are deceiving me!”
“I am not, madame,” I reassured her, smiling. “Your daughter is still breathing, and is increasing in strength perceptibly. The doctors say that she will probably recover.”
“Thank God!” she gasped, her thin white hands clasped before her. “I pray that He may give her back to me. I will go to her.”
But I held her back, explaining that both the medical men had expressed a wish to remain there alone.
“But what caused that appearance so akin to death?” she asked quickly.
“At present they cannot tell,” I responded. “Some deleterious substance is suspected, but until she has returned to consciousness and can give us some details of her sudden attack we can determine nothing.”
“But she will recover, m’sieur?” the Countess asked. “Are you certain?”
“The chances are in her favour, the doctors say. They have given her a drug to counteract the effect of the poison.”
“Poison! Was she poisoned?” gasped the Countess.
“Poison is suspected,” I answered quietly. “But calm yourself, madame. The truth will be discovered in due course.”