The prudent magistrate, recognizing the gravity of the crisis through
which his friend was passing, refrained from asking questions or
exciting him further, and grew impatient of the length of the way to
the chateau, for the change wrought in the Colonel's face alarmed him.
He feared lest the Countess' terrible disease had communicated itself
to Philip's brain. When they reached the avenue at l'Isle-Adam,
d'Albon sent the servant for the local doctor, so that the Colonel had
scarcely been laid in bed before the surgeon was beside him.

"If Monsieur le Colonel had not been fasting, the shock must have
killed him," pronounced the leech. "He was over-tired, and that saved
him," and with a few directions as to the patient's treatment, he went
to prepare a composing draught himself. M. de Sucy was better the next
morning, but the doctor had insisted on sitting up all night with him.

"I confess, Monsieur le Marquis," the surgeon said, "that I feared for
the brain. M. de Sucy has had some very violent shock; he is a man of
strong passions, but, with his temperament, the first shock decides
everything. He will very likely be out of danger to-morrow."

The doctor was perfectly right. The next day the patient was allowed
to see his friend.

"I want you to do something for me, dear d'Albon," Philip said,
grasping his friend's hand. "Hasten at once to the Minorite convent,
find out everything about the lady whom we saw there, and come back as
soon as you can; I shall count the minutes till I see you again."

M. d'Albon called for his horse, and galloped over to the old
monastery. When he reached the gateway he found some one standing