The Marquess seated himself in a chair by the side of the sofa, which Sidonia had advanced to the middle of the room. Lord Monmouth was silent and very serious. Sidonia opened the window, and touched the brow of Lucretia with water. At this moment M. Villebecque and a surgeon entered the chamber. ‘The brain cannot be affected, with that pulse,’ said the surgeon; ‘there is no fracture.’ ‘How pale she is!’ said Lord Monmouth, as if he were examining a picture. ‘The colour seems to me to return,’ said Sidonia. The surgeon applied some restoratives which he had brought with him. The face of the Marchioness showed signs of life; she stirred. ‘She revives,’ said the surgeon. The Marchioness breathed with some force; again; then half-opened her eyes, and then instantly closed them. ‘If I could but get her to take this draught,’ said the surgeon. ‘Stop! moisten her lips first,’ said Sidonia. They placed the draught to her mouth; in a moment she put forth her hand as if to repress them, then opened her eyes again, and sighed. ‘She is herself,’ said the surgeon. ‘Lucretia!’ said the Marquess. ‘Sidonia!’ said the Marchioness. Lord Monmouth looked round to invite his friend to come forward. ‘Lady Monmouth!’ said Sidonia, in a gentle voice. She started, rose a little on the sofa, stared around her. ‘Where am I?’ she exclaimed. ‘With me,’ said the Marquess; and he bent forward to her, and took her hand. ‘Sidonia!’ she again exclaimed, in a voice of inquiry. ‘Is here,’ said Lord Monmouth. ‘He carried you in after our accident.’ ‘Accident! Why is he going to marry?’ The Marquess took a pinch of snuff. There was an awkward pause in the chamber. ‘I think now,’ said Sidonia to the surgeon, ‘that Lady Monmouth would take the draught.’ She refused it. ‘Try you, Sidonia,’ said the Marquess, rather dryly. ‘You feel yourself again?’ said Sidonia, advancing. ‘Would I did not!’ said the Marchioness, with an air of stupor. ‘What has happened? Why am I here? Are you married?’ ‘She wanders a little,’ said Sidonia. The Marquess took another pinch of snuff. ‘I could have borne even repulsion,’ said Lady Monmouth, in a voice of desolation, ‘but not for another!’ ‘M. Villebecque!’ said the Marquess. ‘My Lord?’ Lord Monmouth looked at him with that irresistible scrutiny which would daunt a galley-slave; and then, after a short pause, said, ‘The carriage should have arrived by this time. Let us get home.’ CHAPTER VI. After the conversation at dinner which we have noticed, the restless and disquieted Coningsby wandered about Paris, vainly seeking in the distraction of a great city some relief from the excitement of his mind. His first resolution was immediately to depart for England; but when, on reflection, he was mindful that, after all, the assertion which had so agitated him might really be without foundation, in spite of many circumstances that to his regardful fancy seemed to accredit it, his firm resolution began to waver.