can he be thinking of?" said another. "This is death," said a
third. This question was then put, but not determined, "Shall we
go or not?"

At the fourth hour every symptom became aggravated. People
stretched out their arms without the slightest regard whether they
interrupted their neighbors or not. Unpleasant sounds were heard
from all parts of the room, and everywhere the faces of the guests
bore the marks of concentration. No one listened to me when I
remarked that beyond doubt our absent amphytrion was more unhappy
than any one of us.

Our attention was for a moment arrested by an apparition. One of
the guests, better acquainted with the house than the others, had
gone into the kitchen, and returned panting. His face looked as if
the day of judgment had come, and in an almost inarticulate voice,
which announced at once both the fear of making a noise and of not
being heard, "Monsigneur went away without giving any orders, and
happen what may, dinner will not be served until his return."

The terror caused by what he said could not be exceeded by that to
be expected at the last trump.

Among the martyrs, the most unfortunate was D'Aigrefeuille, whom
all Paris knew. His whole body seemed to suffer, and the agony of
Laocoon was marked on his face. Pale, terrified, he saw nothing
but sank in a chair, grasped his hands on his round stomach, and
closed his eyes, not to sleep but to die.

He did not though. About ten o'clock a carriage drove into the