Mrs. Prince looked at the long, heavy plaits, then up at the nurse, her gray eyes darkening.
"If you cannot take care of it," she said quietly, "I will tell the superintendent to send me another woman."
The nurse colored.
"Oh, I don't mind," she said awkwardly.
When the toilet of the condemned was completed Mr. Prince came in with a huge handful of roses, smiling genially as his eyes fell on his wife.
"Why, P'tite, you look like John Chinaman in that funny shirt."
She smiled in return, but wanly.
"I suppose I do look absurd." She held out her arms; he filled them with the roses, and sat down by the narrow bed. She turned aside her head to hide the sudden tears. He drew her plaits of hair from neck to heel and bent to kiss her cheek as the doctors came in to administer ether.
"Madame Kanaris is here," he said softly, "and begs to see you. May she come in?"
"Madame Kanaris!" She stared up at him with dilating eyes. "When did she come to B—? What is she doing here?"
"The nurse said I might come in for one little moment," said an exquisitely melodious voice at the door directly facing the sick woman.
The men all looked up. A woman, young, beautiful as the day, stood on the threshold, her tender deep blue eyes fixed upon the patient with an expression of the liveliest emotion.
Her radiant hair, her dazzling complexion, her superb figure enveloped in furs, and the indescribable grace of her attitude made the sick woman appear grotesquely skeleton-like and ghastly.
It was Life confronting Death. Death raised itself upon an emaciated arm, and spoke to Life:—
"I cannot see you now, madame. The physicians have just come in, as you see. I beg that you will go away."
Prince sprang to his feet and approached the visitor.
"I did not know the physicians would be here," he murmured. "Shall I take you downstairs? Will you wait for me in the parlors?"
