“My poor little girl!” he said, with a sort of groan—­“my little Madelon!—­to leave thee all alone, pauvre petite!”

“It was precisely of her that I wished to speak,” said Graham.  “I am afraid, in any case, you must look forward to a long illness, and, on her account, is there no friend, no relation you would wish to send for?”

“I have no friends—­no relations,” said M. Linders, impatiently.  “A long illness?  Bah!  M. le Docteur, I know, and you know that I am going to die—­to-day, to-morrow, who knows?—­ and she will be left alone.  She has no one in the world but me, and she has been foolish enough to love me—­my little one!”

He paused for a moment, and then went on, with a vehemence that struggled for utterance, with his hoarse feeble voice and failing breath.

“If this cursed accident had happened but one day sooner or later, I could have left her a fortune—­but a superb fortune; only one day sooner—­I had it two days ago—­or to-morrow—­I should have had my revenge last night of that scelerat—­that devil—­that Legros, and won back the money he cheated me of, he—­he—­of all men, a mere beginner, a smatterer—­ah! if I had been the man I once was, it would have been a different account to settle——­”

He lay back panting, but began again before Graham could speak.

“I only want time—­give me a little time, and my little Madeleine shall have such a fortune as shall make her independent of every one; or stay, why not send for him now?  I will give you his address—­yes, now—­now at once, before it is too late!”

“That is quite impossible, Monsieur,” Graham answered with decision; “and if you agitate yourself in this way, I must refuse to listen to another word.  You are doing all you can to lessen your chances of recovery.”

“You do not play, Monsieur?” said M. Linders, struck with a new idea, and not in the least attending to what Graham was saying.

“Do you want to win my money?” said the young man, half smiling.  “No, I do not play, nor, if I did, have I any money to lose.  Leave all these notions alone, I entreat of you; calm yourself; you need not trouble yourself to speak much, but just tell me what your wishes are concerning your little girl—­ in any case it is always best to be prepared.  Have you made any will?  Is there any one to whose care you would wish to entrust her in the event of your death?”

M. Linders had exhausted his strength and his passion for the moment, and answered quietly enough.  No, he had made no will, he said—­of what use?  Everything he had was hers, of course—­ little enough too, as matters stood.  He owned he did not know what was to become of her; he had made no arrangements—­he had never thought of its coming to this, and then he had always counted on leaving her a fortune.  He had sometimes thought of letting her be brought up for the stage; that might be arranged now, if he could see S——­, the manager of the Theatre ——.  Could he be sent for at once?