The poor page ran to fetch a doctor. He was not skilful; he irritated the wound still more by his remedies. Mario was very ill. His impatience and disappointment at being thus delayed aggravated his condition. Clindor decided to send a messenger to the marquis; but he lost his head and sent him to Nice instead of to Suse. One evening when he was weeping in desperation on the landing outside the room in which Mario lay helpless, he thought that he heard him talking to himself and hastily entered the room. Mario was not alone; a slender, pale-faced creature, dressed in red, was leaning over him as if to question him. Clindor was afraid. He thought that the devil had come to torment his poor young master's last moments, and he was trying to remember some formulas of exorcism, when by the dim light of the night lamp he recognized Pilar. His fear increased. He had overheard her conversation with Mario at Chaumont. He knew therefore that she loved him to frenzy. He believed that she was entirely under the influence of Satan, and fear produced its accustomed effect upon him, that is to say it made him brave; he threw himself upon her, sword in hand, and nearly wounded Mario, whom Pilar exposed as she avoided the blow. He was not able to strike a second time; Pilar disarmed him, he knew not how, jumping upon him so quickly and unexpectedly that he was forced to fall back. "Be quiet, stupid idiot that you are!" she said; "I did not come here to injure Mario, but to save him: don't you know that I love him, and that his life is mine? Do what I bid you do, and in two days he will be on his feet." Clindor, not knowing which way to turn, and realizing that the charlatan whom he had summoned made the patient worse with each new prescription, yielded to Pilar's ascendancy. Despite the fear she caused him, she acted upon his will by virtue of a fascination which he did not admit, but which he could not shake off. At times he trembled to entrust Mario's life to her, but he obeyed, saying to himself that he was bewitched by her. In Mario's case the fever was simply a result of nervous irritation: a day of repose would have cured his wound. But the physician had applied a healing ointment which produced the effect of poison throughout his whole system. Pilar washed and purified the wound. She possessed those _secrets_ of the Moors to which the Christians of Spain had recourse as a last resort. She administered powerful antidotes. The purity of the patient's blood and the wonderful equilibrium of his constitution seconded the effect of the remedies. He partly recovered consciousness that same night; and on the following morning he was no longer delirious. In the evening, although terribly weak, he felt that he was saved.