“I do not know!”

Vogotzine, who had become purple, seized the doctor’s arm convulsively.

“She no longer knows even her own name!”

“It will be only temporary, I hope,” said the doctor.  “But in her present state, she needs the closest care and attention.”

“I have never seen her like this before, never since—­since the first day,” exclaimed the General, in alarm and excitement.  “She tried to kill herself then; but afterward she seemed more reasonable, as you saw just now.  When she asked you who sent you, I thought Ah! at last she is interested in something.  But now it is worse than ever.  Oh! this is lively for me, devilish lively!”

Fargeas took between his thumb and finger the delicate skin of the Tzigana, and pinched her on the neck, below the ear.  Marsa did not stir.

“There is no feeling here,” said the doctor; “I could prick it with a pin without causing any sensation of pain.”  Then, again placing his hand upon Marsa’s forehead, he tried to rouse some memory in the dormant brain: 

“Come, Madame, some one is waiting for you.  Your uncle—­your uncle wishes you to play for him upon the piano!  Your uncle!  The piano!”

“The World holds but One Fair Maiden!” hummed Vogotzine, trying to give, in his husky voice, the melody of the song the Tzigana was so fond of.

Mechanically, Marsa repeated, as if spelling the word:  “The piano! piano!” and then, in peculiar, melodious accents, she again uttered her mournful:  “I do not know!”

This time old Vogotzine felt as if he were strangling; and the doctor, full of pity, gazed sadly down at the exquisitely beautiful girl, with her haggard, dark eyes, and her waxen skin, sitting there like a marble statue of despair.

“Give her some bouillon,” said Fargeas.  “She will probably refuse it in her present condition; but try.  She can be cured,” he added; “but she must be taken away from her present surroundings.  Solitude is necessary, not this here, but—­”

“But?” asked Vogotzine, as the doctor paused.

“But, perhaps, that of an asylum.  Poor woman!” turning again to Marsa, who had not stirred.  “How beautiful she is!”

The doctor, greatly touched, despite his professional indifference, left the villa, the General accompanying him to the gate.  It was decided that he should return the next day with Villandry and arrange for the transportation of the invalid to Dr. Sims’s establishment at Vaugirard.  In a new place her stupor might disappear, and her mind be roused from its torpor; but a constant surveillance was necessary.  Some pretext must be found to induce Marsa to enter a carriage; but once at Vaugirard, the doctor gave the General his word that she should be watched and taken care of with the utmost devotion.

Vogotzine felt the blood throb in his temples as he listened to the doctor’s decision.  The establishment at Vaugirard!  His niece, the daughter of Prince Tchereteff, and the wife of Prince Zilah, in an insane asylum!