The wound ceased to bleed externally, and its inward flow threatened suffocation. The duke's physician, M. Boujou, endeavored to restore circulation by sucking the wound. "What are you doing?" exclaimed the duke. "For God's sake stop! Perhaps the poniard was poisoned." Respiration was now very difficult, and the hand of the duke was clammy with the damp of death. As a last resort, the surgeon, with his knife, opened and enlarged the wound. The duke, grasping the hand of the duchess, patiently bore the painful operation, and then said, "Spare me further pain." Turning to his wife, whom he tenderly loved, he said, "Caroline, take care of yourself for the sake of our infant, which you bear in your bosom." The duke and the duchess of Orleans, being immediately summoned, were the first of the relatives to arrive in this chamber of death. They were speedily followed by the Count d'Artois, the father of the sufferer, and by the Duke d'Angouleme, his elder brother. Other members of the royal family soon arrived. In the feeble accents of approaching death, the duke inquired, "Who is the man who has killed me? I wish I could see him, to inquire into his motives. Perhaps it is some one whom I have unconsciously offended. Would that I might live long enough to ask the king to pardon him. Promise me, my father, promise me, my brother, to ask of the king the life of that man." Another touching scene, of a very delicate nature, which I can not refrain from recording occurred in this solemn hour. It was manifest to the duke, as well as to all of his friends, that before the hour should expire the spirit of the dying would pass to the tribunal of that God in whose presence both prince and peasant are alike. The memory of all past sins, in such an hour, often crowds the soul with its tumultuous array. In whispering tones, inaudible to others, a few words were interchanged between the dying man and his wife. Then two illegitimate children, who were born to the duke when he was an exile in London, were brought in. It seems that he had ever recognized them as his own, and that they had been protected and fostered by both himself and his lawful wife. As these children entered the chamber, and knelt, sobbing convulsively, at their father's dying bed, the duke embraced them tenderly, and, turning his fading eye to his wife, said, "I know you sufficiently, Caroline, to be assured that, after me, you will take care of these orphans." The duchess responded in an action far more impressive than words. Taking her own babe into her arms from its nurse, she drew the unfortunate children to her bosom, and said, "Kiss your sister." It was a noble deed. All eyes were suffused in tears. Few can read the simple record without emotion. The duke then received, from the bishop, absolution, repeatedly attempting the prayer, "My God, pardon me, pardon me; and pardon the man who has taken my life!"