The servant took him in his arms, and carried him into his house; and then, terrified at the unexpected accident, had hastened to the marchioness to inform her that Achard required the attendance of a physician and a priest, which message was delivered to her by the servant then in waiting, to which the marchioness refused to accede, under the pretext that they were required as urgently by the marquis as the old servant, and that superiority of rank, powerful, even when at the point of death, gave her husband the right of first employing. But the intelligence which had been announced to the marchioness at the moment of that dreadful agony, into which their varying interests and varying passions had thrown the actors in this family drama, of which we have become the historian, this intelligence, we say, was heard by Paul. Conceiving that the signature of the contract had now become impossible from the state of the marquis, he had only allowed himself time to whisper to Marguerite, that should she need his assistance, she would find him at Achard’s cottage, and then he rushed into the park, and winding his way amid its serpentine walks and thickets, with the skill of a sear man, who reads his path in the starry firmament, he soon reached the house, entered it panting from his rapid course, and found Achard just as he was recovering from his fainting fit, and clasped him in his arms. The delight of again seeing him renewed the strength of the old man, who now felt certain of having a friendly hand to close his eyes. “Oh! it is you--it is you!” exclaimed the old man. “I did not hope to see you again.” “And could you possibly believe that I should have been apprized of the state in which you were, and that I would not instantly fly to your assistance?” “But I knew not where to find you--where I could send to tell you that I wished once more to see you before I died.” “I was at the castle, father, where I learned that you were dangerously ill, and I hastened hither.” “And how was it that you were at the castle?” said the old man, with amazement. Paul related to him all that had occurred. “Eternal Providence!” cried the old man, when Paul had concluded his recital, “how hidden and inevitable are thy decrees. Thou, who, after twenty years, hast conducted this youth to the cradle of his infancy, and hast killed the assassin of the father, by the mere aspect of the son!” “Yes, yes, thus it happens,” replied Paul, “and it is Providence, also, who conducts me to you, that I might save you. For I heard them refuse to send you the physician and the priest.” “According to common justice,” rejoined Achard, “they might have made a fair division. The marquis, who fears death, might have retained the physician, while to me who am tired of life, they might have sent the priest.” “I can go on horseback,” said Paul, “and in less than an hour--”