"She would probably
not notice his presence; and if--"
"Oh, she would perceive nothing!" said the priest. "I have just spoken
to her, taken her hand, she remained quite insensible."
The old soldier reflected deeply.
"Enter," said he at last to the count; "perhaps it is God's will."
The count tottered so that the doctor offered to assist him. He gently
motioned him away.
The doctor and the priest entered with him; Claire and the old soldier
remained at the threshold of the door, facing the bed.
The count took three or four steps, and was obliged to stop. He wished
to, but could not go further.
Could this dying woman really be Valerie?
He taxed his memory severely; nothing in those withered features,
nothing in that distorted face, recalled the beautiful, the adored
Valerie of his youth. He did not recognise her.
But she knew him, or rather divined his presence. With supernatural
strength, she raised herself, exposing her shoulders and emaciated arms;
then pushing away the ice from her forehead, and throwing back her still
plentiful hair, bathed with water and perspiration, she cried, "Guy!
Guy!"
The count trembled all over.
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