Mademoiselle was very ill all night--out of herself--delirious.

The doctor fears for the brain.
Ah, _mon Dieu_! it is very sad--it is deplorable! We all weep for the poor Mademoiselle Hunsden.

I am, monsieur, with profoundest sentiments of sorrow and pity, MARIE JUSTINE CELESTE BEAUFORT.
The young baronet waited for no breakfast.

He seized his hat, tore out of the hotel, sprung into a fiacre, and was whirled at once to the _pension_.
Madame came to him to the parlor, her lace handkerchief to her eyes.
Mademoiselle was very ill.

Monsieur could not see her, of course, but he must not despair.
Doctor Pillule had hopes.