"No," said the old man, "I will not consent to this. You shall not quit the house which shelters you from your enemies: no, you shall not. Ah! sir," continued the Duke, "if you will not remain for your own sake do so for mine, for you alone have preserved the life of my daughter thus far." The Doctor said, as he gave a paper to the Duke: "Here is the result of my study, in which I have traced out all the means known to science calculated to strengthen the health of your daughter, and to parry the dangers which menace her." "Doctor," said the Duke, "do not distress me by leaving the hotel. Do not make me perpetually miserable, Doctor, I am already unfortunate enough." "Well," said the young man, unable to resist his prayers any longer, "you shall know what forces me to go, and shall yourself judge of my duty." He fell at the Duke's feet, and told him all he had learned during Marie's slumber, his combats with himself, and his resolution. "You are an honest man," said the Duke, with an expression of poignant grief, and lifting him up: "but I am a most unfortunate father." D'Asbel just then came in with a letter. "From my son," said the Duke, and he opened it. The features of the old man assumed, as he read, such an expression of terror, that Von Apsberg and the Secretary advanced towards him and sustained him, for he seemed ready to faint. "Read," said he, with a voice half indistinct, and he gave the Doctor the letter. It was as follows: "MY DEAR FATHER:--I can conceal no longer that I am dying. One man alone, who has often soothed me by his care and advice, can now save me. This is Von Apsberg. I cannot, though, ask him to accompany you, for he would endanger his own liberty. Come, then, dear father, to see me for the last time." "Let us go, sir," said the Doctor. "Let us not delay a minute, for in an hour--it may be too late." "But you expose your life, Doctor, by going among your enemies," said the Duke. "But I will save his," said Von Apsberg. The Duke rushed into his arms.