"But go, Monsieur," the King exclaimed again. "These priests are effective only in the pulpit; they can advise well, but cannot act with energy." The horror of that note imparted speed to the abbé; he ran to the Parc-aux-Cerfs, preceded by the Marquis de Pontecoulant, who was sent specially by the King. The mansion was in an indescribable state, its inmates filled with consternation at the desperate course adopted by the hapless Helene. Several physicians were present, and various antidotes had been tried, but without any satisfactory results. At sight of the abbé, the bedside was left free for his approach. "Oh! my niece," said the priest, in a voice almost choked with grief, "how could you presume to dispose of your life?" "I preferred death to infamy." "My niece, your honor is respected, and the King concedes your requests. The Vicomte de Benavent and his comrades are at liberty." "Then I go to my grave consoled and contented." "Dearest Helene! live to make a husband happy; live to impart joy to your family." "It is too late." The abbé cast imploring looks on the medical men, whose countenances mutely indicated their conviction of the hopelessness of the case. The sad sacrifice appeared nearly consummated. How she had obtained the poison none could tell. Dissolution seemed imminent, when a man of lofty stature, whose features, though extremely swarthy, expressed great intelligence, entered the room. In one hand he bore a small glass, and in the other a phial, containing a liquid of the deepest green color, and perfectly clear. "I come by the King's command," he exclaimed; and passing, through the yielding crowd, to the bedside, he half filled the glass with water, into which he dropped a portion of the green elixir. Directing Justine to raise the drooping head of the apparently expiring girl, he succeeded in getting her to swallow the medicine. Immediately a fierce spasm convulsed her frame; she raised herself with surprising energy, but instantly fell back on the pillow. "She is dead!" exclaimed many of those present. "She is saved," replied the tall, swarthy man, in a tone of perfect confidence. He was the celebrated Comte de Saint-Germain, whose influence with Louis XV. appeared mysterious to the courtiers, but really arose from his extensive information and research. In theory and practice his scientific attainments were of a very high order, and appeared still more surprising when contrasted with the ignorance and imbecility of the aristocracy of that period. Mademoiselle de Pal---- recovered so speedily as to be capable of removing, under her uncle's care, in about a week. On leaving the Parc-aux-Cerfs, THE ESCAPED FAWN received, by order of the King, a splendid note-case, in which there was a draft on the Controller-General for five hundred thousand francs (£20,000.) On the previous evening, the King said to the Vicomte de Benavent:--