Without wishing to analyze his feelings towards Marie, the Doctor was under their influence. He did not dream of ever possessing that aristocratic heart from which he was separated by rank, birth, and fortune. The heart of man, nevertheless, is so constituted, that the most honest and loyal man is never exempt from a shadow of egotism. Perhaps, therefore, in the Doctor's mind there was a feeble hope of approaching that class whose position he so envied. Let this be as it may, abandoning himself to the luxury of seeing always by his side this beautiful creature, whose health his care had already revived, the Doctor blessed his captivity, and lived in anxious expectation of the hours when Marie used to visit him. Von Apsberg possessed that Platonic heart which enabled him to look on Marie as a creature of pure poetry. He entertained so respectful a tenderness for the young girl, that he distrusted her no more than she did him. On the day we found the Doctor writing in his retreat with such ardor, he was writing out a _regime_ for his patient. He told her what to do, and, as if gifted with prescience, provided for her future life. "If," said he, "I be discovered--if the future have in reserve for the heiress d'Harcourt"--and his heart felt as if a sharp iron had transfixed it--"if a noble marriage separate me from her; at least in this painful study of her health she will be able to contend against her family disease, and perhaps will be indebted to me for life, happy and unsuffering." The idea seemed too much for the strength of the young physician as he saw thus fade before him all hope of a union with Marie. Steps just then were heard outside his room just as he was concluding the sad _memoire_ we have spoken of. The Doctor, in obedience to the request of his host, answered no knock, and gave no evidence of life, except at a concerted signal known only to three persons--the Duke, his daughter, and D'Arbel. Therefore he listened. The person who advanced paused for a time before his door, and then left rapidly as it had come. Von Apsberg, however, by means of that lover's intuition, guessed who it was. The eyes of his heart pierced the opacity of the door, to enable him to admire the charming angel who had alighted at his door and flown away. Before this angel had disappeared from the long corridor which led to the Doctor's room, the door was opened, and he paused to glance at the young girl who was ready to escape. Marie returned to the Doctor, and advanced slowly towards him. "Ah! Monsieur," said she to Matheus, "it is wrong in you not to keep your promise better. You promised my father never to open the door without a signal--" "Why then, Mademoiselle, did you not give the signal?" "I did not come to see you," said Marie; "but I brought you books and flowers. I am so afraid you will grow weary in this little room, where you are always alone and sad."