Isabelle turned her beautiful eyes, wet with tears, upon de Sigognac, and read in those of her true and faithful lover that he had not waited for the solemn attestation, "in extremis," of the Duke of Vallombreuse to believe in the perfect purity of her whom he adored.
"But what is the matter ?" asked the prince, holding out his hand to his son, who staggered and swayed to and fro in spite of Malartic's efforts to support him, and whose face was fairly livid.
"Nothing, father," answered Vallombreuse, in a scarcely articulate voice, "nothing--only I am dying"-- and he fell at full length on the floor before the prince could clasp him in his arms, as he endeavoured to do.
"He did not fall on his face," said Jacquemin Lampourde, sententiously; "it's nothing but a fainting fit.

He may escape yet.

We duellists are familiar with this sort of thing, my lord; a great deal more so than most medical men, and you may depend upon what I say." "A doctor! a doctor!" cried the prince, forgetting his anger as he saw his son lying apparently lifeless at his feet.

"Perhaps this man is right, and there may be some hope for him yet.

A fortune to whomsoever will save my son!--my only son!--the last scion of a noble race.