Augustinovich. The count had become livid, he was twisted up, the fingers of his hands were balled into lumps; the second attack had come evidently.
At that moment Yosef rushed to the sick man and straightened his arm almost by force.
"Ys!—Bleed him!" said he in a low voice.
There was silence. By a wonderful chance the lamp at that moment grew darker. From instant to instant was heard the quick low voice of Yosef,—
"His pulse? Water!"
"He is stifling," whispered Augustinovich.
Both held the breath in their breasts; the dull sound of the lance was heard. The steel sank in the old man’s flesh, but blood did not come.
"This is the end! All is useless!" said Yosef, drawing a deep breath.
Drops of sweat came out on his forehead.
"He lived—he lived till he died," said Augustinovich, with the most indifferent mien in the world. "We have done our part, now to sleep."
