THE AMERICAN
sleep, and she had slept she did n't know how long. When she woke up all was over. 'It's surely death, my son, it's unmistakeably death,' she said to the Count. Mr. Urbain said they must have the doctor immediately from Poitiers, and that he would ride off and fetch him. He kissed his father's face—oh!—and then he kissed his mother and went away. My lady and I stood there at the bedside. As I looked at my poor master it came to me ever so sharply that he was n't dead, that he was only in a stupor of weakness. And then my lady repeated 'My poor Bread, it's death, it's just death'; and I said 'Yes, my lady, it's certainly death.' I said just the opposite to what I believed; it was my particular notion. Then my lady said we must wait for the doctor, and we sat there and waited. It was a long time; the poor Marquis neither stirred nor changed. 'I've seen death before,' said my lady, 'and it's terribly like this.' 'Yes, please, my lady,' said I; and I thought things I did n't say. The night wore away without the Count's coming back, and the Marquise began to be frightened. She was afraid he had had an accident in the dark or met with some prowling people. At last she got so restless that she went below to watch in the court for his return. I sat there alone and the Marquis never stirred."
Here Mrs. Bread paused again, and, for her listener, the most expert story-teller could n't have been more thrilling. Newman made almost the motion of turning the page of a "detective story." "So he was dead!" he exclaimed.
"Three days later he was in his grave," said Mrs.
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