When Reed comes back from his search for a doctor, they find the old lawyer sitting by the window, with his wet eyes covered by his hands, and the woman kneeling by the bed, with the sick man's head on her breast. "You must leave this place," says the doctor, in affright. "No, I will nurse him best," she smiles. So she has her way, good, faithful Margaret. CHAPTER XXX. A REVELATION. Madame Hesslein, standing on the deck where Margaret had bidden her adieu--weeping in her lace handkerchief until it was wet, and waving it after her until it was dry, seemed so well worth losing a thousand pounds for, that the Chevalier Calembours quickly overcame his sincere regrets at the mad Margaret's departure into the jaws of death, and, flinging all uncomfortable emotions into the limbo of forgetfulness, he abandoned himself to the care of this fair creature who was left upon his hands. "There they go, these doomed ones!" sobbed madame, with a great gush of tears. "Farewell, farewell, poor devoted Griselda." "Be content, dear madame, I do not forsake thee--take comfort of thy slave!" "Oh, chevalier, is there ever a man on this stale old globe who can show a heart like faithful Margaret's?" "_Mon Dieu!_ I know such a man." "I do not. I have yet to meet the man who is content to love without one hope of recompense; who counts it joy to lay his all at the feet of the one who has scorned him--who rushes with a willing soul to brave death in the service of his enemy." "Madame is skeptical, madame is cruel. Ah--could she read the heart of Calembours----" "Ha, ha, ha!" mocked madame, wildly, "perhaps I can. Perhaps I have met with such before, and sifting it well, found it the heart of a fiend. But enough, 'tis a long time since I have believed in love, and faithfulness, and such mawkish sentimentality; now, do you know what I believe in, monsieur?" "_Pardieu_, no--cruel that thou art." "Ambition is my god," breathed madame, tauntingly. "I will climb to the highest step of the social ladder, and there I'll feel content." The chevalier grew pale with envy. "If madame would accept my poor help to raise her to her throne," sighed he. "_Yours!_" she interrupted, scornfully. "Madame, I am not what I seem." "Faith, I don't think you are." "Madame, on the honor of a chevalier, I possess some fine titles and estates." "Foolish man, to cloak your royalty with this disguise!" "I am Count de S. S. Turin." "I salute you, count." "I am Knight of the Three Sicilies." "Receive my obeisance, knight." "I possess fine vineyards in Hungary, and a jewel-mine." "My congratulations, illustrious sir."