“You know how brave I am. Have I wept? have I despaired? Speak: I want to know the truth.” Henri fixed his eyes on her. The words came slowly from his lips. “Well,” said he, “if in an hour hence she hasn’t awakened from this stupor, it will be all over.” Not a sob broke from Hélène; but icy horror possessed her and raised her hair on end. Her eyes turned on Jeanne; she fell on her knees and clasped her in her arms with a superb gesture eloquent of ownership, as though she could preserve her from ill, nestling thus against her shoulder. For more than a minute she kept her face close to the child’s, gazing at her intently, eager to give her breath from her own nostrils, ay, and her very life too. The labored breathing of the little sufferer grew shorter and shorter. “Can nothing be done?” she exclaimed, as she lifted her head. “Why do you remain there? Do something!” But he made a disheartened gesture. “Do something!” she repeated. “There must be something to be done. You are not going to let her die oh, surely not!” “I will do everything possible,” the doctor simply said. He rose up, and then a supreme struggle began. All the coolness and nerve of the practitioner had returned to him. Till now he had not ventured to try any violent remedies, for he dreaded to enfeeble the little frame already almost destitute of life. But he no longer remained undecided, and straightway dispatched Rosalie for a dozen leeches. And he did not attempt to conceal from the mother that this was a desperate remedy which might save or kill her child. When the leeches were brought in, her heart failed her for a moment. “Gracious God! gracious God!” she murmured. “Oh, if you should kill her!” He was forced to wring consent from her. “Well, put them on,” said she; “but may Heaven guide your hand!”