“And this was—­”

“Hydrophobia.”

“Did he become mad?”

“Yes; he confessed, that he had been bitten a few days before by one of the mastiffs in his menagerie; unfortunately, we only learnt this circumstance after the terrible attack, which cost the life of the poor fellow we deplore.”

“How did it happen, then?”

“Morok was in a room with three other patients.  Suddenly seized with a sort of furious delirium, he rose, uttering ferocious cries, and rushed raving mad into the passage.  Our poor friend made an attempt to stop him.  This kind of resistance increased the frenzy of Morok, who threw himself on the man that crossed his path, and, tearing him with his teeth, fell down in horrible convulsions.”

“Oh! you are right.  ’Twas indeed frightful.  And, not withstanding every assistance this victim of Morok’s—­”

“Died during the night, in dreadful agony; for the shock had been so violent, that brain-fever almost instantly declared itself.”

“And is Morok dead?”

“I do not know.  He was to be taken to another hospital, after being fast bound in the state of weakness which generally succeeds the fit.  But, till he can be removed he has been confined in a room upstairs.”

“But he cannot recover.”

“I should think he must be dead by this time.  The doctors did not give him twenty-four hours to live.”

The persons engaged in this conversation were standing in an ante-chamber on the ground-floor, in which usually assembled those who came to offer their voluntary aid to the sick.  One door of this room communicated with the rest of the hospital, and the other with the passage that opened upon the courtyard.

“Dear me!” said one of the two speakers, looking through the window.  “See what two charming girls have just got out of that elegant carriage.  How much alike they are!  Such a resemblance is indeed extraordinary.”

“No doubt they are twins.  Poor young girls! dressed in Mourning.  They have perhaps lost father or mother.”

“One would imagine they are coming this way.”

“Yes, they are coming up the steps.”

And indeed Rose and Blanche soon entered the antechamber, with a timid, anxious air, though a sort of feverish excitement was visible in their looks.  One of the two men that were talking together, moved by the embarrassment of the girls, advanced toward them, and said, in a tone of attentive politeness:  “Is there anything I can do for you, ladies?”

“Is not this, sir,” replied Rose, “the infirmary of the Rue du Mont Blanc?”

“Yes, miss.”

“A lady, called Madame Augustine du Tremblay, was brought here, we are told, about two days ago.  Could we see her?”

“I would observe to you, miss, that there is some danger in entering the sick-wards.”

“It is a dear friend that we wish to see,” answered Rose, in a mild and firm tone, which sufficiently expressed that she was determined to brave the danger.