"Excuse me, Suzanne," interposed Segoffin. "I am as much opposed to anything like imprudence as you can possibly be, but (I can confess it now, you see) as I have had considerable experience in injuries of this kind during the last twelve years, I am probably much better able to judge than you are, so I am going to feel your nephew's pulse and note his symptoms carefully, and if I find him able to go down to the parlour where Mlle. Sabine is, I--No, no, not so fast!" added Segoffin, laying a restraining hand on Onésime, who, upon hearing Sabine's name, had evinced an evident intention of springing out of bed. "I have not made my diagnosis yet. Do me the favour to keep quiet. If you don't, I will take the letter away, and lock you up here in your room." Onésime sighed, but submitted with breathless impatience to Segoffin's careful examination, made with the aid of a lamp held by Suzanne, an examination which satisfied him that the young man could sit up an hour or two without the slightest danger. "You are positive there is no danger, Segoffin?" asked Dame Roberts, anxiously. "None whatever." "But why not postpone this conference for awhile?" "Because there is a person counting the hours, nay, the very minutes, until he hears from us." "You mean M. Cloarek, do you not?" "I tell you there is some one not far from here to whom this decision means life or death," said Segoffin, without answering the question. "Life or death!" cried Suzanne. "Or rather hope or despair," added Segoffin, gravely, "and that is why, Suzanne, I ask your nephew to make the effort to go down-stairs. Now, if you will go to mademoiselle, I will help M. Onésime dress." Ten minutes afterward Onésime, leaning on Segoffin's arm, entered the little parlour where Sabine was awaiting him. CHAPTER XXI. A LAST APPEAL. THE poor girl was as pale as death, and so weak that she was obliged to half recline in a large easy-chair. "Will you sit down, M. Onésime, and you too, my dear Suzanne and Segoffin," she said, with gentle dignity. They all seated themselves in silence. "Before beginning this conversation," said Sabine, with a melancholy smile, "I must tell you that I am greatly changed. The vague and often senseless fears which have haunted me from infancy seem to have vanished. The terrible reality seems to have dispelled these phantoms. I tell you this, my friends, so you may understand that it is no longer necessary to manifest so much caution and consideration in your treatment of me, and that you can tell me the entire truth with safety, no matter how terrible it may be. One word more: I adjure you, Suzanne, and you too, Segoffin, in the name of your devotion to me and to--other members of my family, to answer all my questions fully and truthfully. Will you promise to do this?" "I promise," replied Suzanne. "I promise," said Segoffin. A brief silence followed.