Monsieur de Saint-Juery had thrown himself into a chair, and was sobbing bitterly, covering his face with his hands.

“My poor dear, my poor darling,” he said, through his tears.

“Pray compose yourself, and be brave,” the doctor continued, sitting down by his side, “for I have to say something serious to you, and to convey to you our poor patient’s last wishes....  A few minutes ago, she told me the secret of your double life, and of your connection with her....  And now, in view of death, which she feels approaching so rapidly, for she is under no delusion, the unhappy woman wishes to die at peace with heaven, with the consolation of having regulated her equivocal position, and of having become your wife.”

Monsieur de Saint-Juery sat upright, with a bewildered look, while he moved his hands nervously; in his grief he was incapable of manifesting any will of his own, or of opposing this unexpected attack.

“Oh! anything that Charlotte wishes, doctor; anything, and I will myself go and tell her so, on my knees!”

* * * * *

The wedding took place discreetly, with something funereal about it, in the darkened room, where the words which were spoken had a strange sound, almost of anguish.  Charlotte, who was lying in bed, with her eyes dilated through happiness, had put both trembling hands into those of Monsieur de Saint-Juery, and she seemed to expire with the word:  “Yes” on her lips.  The doctor looked at the moving scene, grave and impassive, with his chin buried in his white cravat, and his two arms resting on the mantel-piece, while his eyes twinkled behind his glasses....

The next week, Madame de Saint-Juery began to get better, and that wonderful recovery about which Monsieur de Saint-Juery tells everybody with effusive gratitude, who will listen to him, has so increased Doctor Rabatel’s reputation, that at the next election he will be made a member of the Academy of Medicine.

THE WILL

I knew that tall young fellow, Rene de Bourneval.  He was an agreeable man, though of a rather melancholy turn of mind, who seemed prejudiced against everything, very skeptical, and able to tear worldly hypocrisies to pieces.  He often used to say: 

“There are no honorable men, or at any rate, they only appear so when compared to low people.”

He had two brothers, whom he never saw, the Messieurs de Courcils, and I thought they were by another father, on account of the difference in the name.  I had frequently heard that something strange had happened in the family, but I did not know the details.

As I took a great liking to him, we soon became intimate, and one evening, when I had been dining with him alone, I asked him by chance:  “Are you by your mother’s first or second marriage?” He grew rather pale, and then flushed, and did not speak for a few moments; he was visibly embarrassed.  Then he smiled in a melancholy and gentle manner, which was peculiar to him, and said: