“I was dressed in an instant, and in a few minutes I was at the house.  They asked me to go into the sitting-room down stairs.  There I found, to my great amazement, Count Claudieuse, lying on a sofa.  He was pale and stiff, his features fearfully distorted, and on his forehead a slight wound, from which a slender thread of blood was trickling down.  Upon my word I thought it was all over.”

“And the countess?”

“The countess was kneeling by her husband; and, with the help of her women, she was trying to resuscitate him by rubbing him, and putting hot napkins on his chest.  But for these wise precautions she would be a widow at this moment; whilst, as it is, he may live a long time yet.  This precious count has a wonderful tenacity of life.  We, four of us, then took him and carried him up stairs, and put him to bed, after having carefully warmed it first.  He soon began to move; he opened his eyes; and a quarter of an hour later he had recovered his consciousness, and spoke readily, though with a somewhat feeble voice.  Then, of course, I asked what had happened, and for the first time in my life I saw the marvellous self-possession of the countess forsake her.  She stammered pitifully, looking at her husband with a most frightened air, as if she wished to read in his eyes what she should say.  He undertook to answer me; but he, also was evidently very much embarrassed.  He said, that being left alone, and feeling better than usual, he had taken it into his head to try his strength.  He had risen, put on his dressing-gown, and gone down stairs; but, in the act of entering the room, he had become dizzy, and had fallen so unfortunately as to hurt his forehead against the sharp corner of a table.  I affected to believe it, and said, ‘You have done a very imprudent thing, and you must not do it again.’  Then he looked at his wife in a very singular way, and replied, ’Oh! you can be sure I shall not commit another imprudence.  I want too much to get well.  I have never wished it so much as now.’”

M. Folgat was on the point of replying; but the doctor closed his lips with his hand, and said,—­

“Wait, I have not done yet.”

And, manipulating his spectacles most assiduously, he added,—­

“I was just going home, when suddenly a chambermaid came in with a frightened air to tell the countess that her older daughter, little Martha, whom you know, had just been seized with terrible convulsions.  Of course I went to see her, and found her suffering from a truly fearful nervous attack.  It was only with great difficulty I could quiet her; and when I thought she had recovered, suspecting that there might be some connection between her attack and the accident that had befallen her father, I said in the most paternal tone I could assume, ’Now my child, you must tell me what was the matter.’  She hesitated a while, and then she said, ‘I was frightened.’—­’Frightened at what, my darling?’ She raised herself on her