"My lord! My lord!" cried Clemence and Murphy at the same time, equally alarmed at the excited manner of Rodolph, and the increasing paleness of Fleur-de-Marie, who gazed on her father in silent amazement. "Ashamed of you!" continued he. "Oh, if ever I rejoiced in my princely rank it is now that it affords me the means of raising you from the depths to which the wickedness of others consigned you. Yes, my child! My long-lost, idolised child! In me behold your father!" And utterly unable longer to repress his feelings, the prince threw himself at the feet of Fleur-de-Marie, and covered her hand with tears and caresses. "Thanks, my God," exclaimed Fleur-de-Marie, passionately clasping her hands, "for permitting me to indulge that love for my benefactor with which my heart was filled. My father! Oh, blessed title, that enables me to love him even as I--" And unable to bear up against the suddenness of the disclosure, Fleur-de-Marie fell fainting in the prince's arms. Murphy rushed to the waiting-room, and shouted vehemently: "Send for Doctor David directly! Directly, do you hear? For his royal highness,--no--no, for some one who is suddenly taken ill here." "Wretch that I am!" exclaimed Rodolph, sobbing almost hysterically at his daughter's feet, "I have killed her! Marie, my child, look up! It is your father calls you! Forgive--oh, forgive my precipitancy--my want of caution in disclosing to you this happy news! She is dead! God of heaven! Have I then but found her to see her torn from me for ever?" "Calm yourself, my lord," said Clemence, "there is no danger, depend upon it. The colour returns to her cheeks; the surprise overcame her." "But so recently risen from a bed of sickness that surprise may kill her! Unhappy man that I am, doomed for ever to misery and suffering!" At this moment the negro doctor, David, entered the room in great haste, holding in one hand a small case filled with phials, and in the other a paper he handed to Murphy. "David!" exclaimed Rodolph, "my child is dying! I once saved your life, repay me now by saving that of my daughter." Although amazed at hearing the prince speak thus, David hurried to Fleur-de-Marie, whom Madame d'Harville was supporting in her arms, examined her pulse and the veins of her temples, then turning towards Rodolph, who in speechless agony was awaiting his decree, he said: "Your royal highness has no cause for alarm; there is no danger." "Can it be true? Are you quite sure she will recover?" "Perfectly so, my lord; a few drops of ether administered in a glass of water is all that is requisite to restore consciousness." "Thanks, thanks, my good, my excellent David!" cried the prince, in an ecstasy of joy. Then addressing Clemence, Rodolph added, "Our daughter will be spared to us." Murphy had just glanced over the paper given him by David; suddenly he started, and gazed with looks of terror at the prince.