hour passed, and no Valentine appeared; and to account for his absence, I must now relate his part in the adventures of the night.
"Anxious to finish the work he had in hand, he had sat up far beyond his usual hour, and was still diligently plying his pen through the concluding lines of the document he was preparing, when he was roused by the loud and hasty summons of the bell, which has already been alluded to. At first, imagining from the lateness of the hour, that it was either a mistake, or a piece of mischief of some wanderer of the night, he did not move; but a second peal, louder than the first, succeeding, he hastened to the door to inquire the cause of so unusual a disturbance.
"'Is this the house of Monsieur Le Moine?' eagerly asked a man who stood there, muffled in a blue mantle and a slouched hat.
"'It is,' replied Valentine.
"'Then come quickly,' cried the man, seizing his arm as he spoke—'the patient is dying of a wound—there is no time to lose—bring with you what is needful; and in the name of God, make haste!'
"'I'll only fetch my hat and cloak,' said Valentine, who concluded that the service re-
