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?‰mile, 1836-1873

"The Count's Millions"

Instinctively the doctor
paused and looked in. There had been no change since his first
visit. The count was still lying motionless on his pillows; his
face was swollen, his eyelids were closed, but he still breathed,
as was shown by the regular movement of the covering over his
chest. Madame Leon and Mademoiselle Marguerite were his only
attendants. The housekeeper, who sat back a little in the shade,
was half reclining in an arm-chair with her hands clasped in her
lap, her lips firmly compressed, and her eyes fixed upon vacancy.
Pale but calm, and more imposing and more beautiful than ever,
Mademoiselle Marguerite was kneeling beside the bed, eagerly
watching for some sign of renewed life and intelligence on the
count's face.
A little ashamed of his indiscretion, the doctor retreated seven
or eight steps down the stairs, and then ascended them again,
coughing slightly, so as to announce his approach. This time he
was heard. for Mademoiselle Marguerite came to the door to meet
him. "Well?" he inquired.
"Alas!"
He advanced toward the bed, but before he had time to examine his
patient Mademoiselle Marguerite handed him a scrap of paper. "The
physician who usually attends M. de Chalusse has been here in your
absence, monsieur," said she. "This is his prescription, and we
have already administered a few drops of the potion."
M. Jodon, who was expecting this blow, bowed coldly.
"I must add," continued Mademoiselle Marguerite, "that the doctor
approved of all that had been done; and I beg you will unite your
skill with his in treating the case.


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