Chapter 21 - Page 2

gradually increasing in size. A deep sigh broke from her
lips. She leaned against one of the columns of the bed, and gazed,
through the apertures in her mask, upon the harrowing spectacle before
her. A hoarse harsh groan passed like a death-rattle through the comte's
clenched teeth. The masked lady seized his left hand, which scorched
like burning coals. But at the very moment she placed her icy hand upon
it, the action of the cold was such that De Guiche opened his eyes, and
by a look in which revived intelligence was dawning, seemed as though
struggling back again into existence. The first thing upon which he
fixed his gaze was this phantom standing erect by his bedside. At that
sight, his eyes became dilated, but without any appearance of
consciousness in them. The lady thereupon made a sign to her companion,
who had remained at the door; and in all probability the latter had
already received her lesson, for in a clear tone of voice, and without
any hesitation whatever, she pronounced these words: - "Monsieur le
comte, her royal highness Madame is desirous of knowing how you are able
to bear your wound, and to express to you, by my lips, her great regret
at seeing you suffer."

As she pronounced the word Madame, Guiche started; he had not as yet
remarked the person to whom the voice belonged, and he naturally turned
towards the direction whence it preceded. But, as he felt the cold hand
still resting on his own, he again turned towards the motionless figure
beside him. "Was it you who spoke, madame?" he asked, in a weak voice,
"or is there another person in beside you in the room?"

"Yes," replied the figure, in an almost unintelligible voice, as she bent
down her head.

"Well," said the wounded man, with a great effort, "I thank you. Tell
Madame that I no longer regret to die, since she has remembered me."

At the words "to die," pronounced by one whose life seemed to hang on a
thread, the masked lady could not restrain her tears, which flowed under
the mask, and appeared upon her cheeks just where the mask left her face
bare. If De Guiche had been in fuller possession of his senses, he would
have seen her tears roll like glistening pearls, and fall upon his bed.
The lady, forgetting that she wore her mask, raised her hand as though to
wipe her eyes, and meeting the rough velvet, she tore away her mask in
anger, and threw it on the floor. At the unexpected apparition before
him, which seemed to issue from a cloud, De Guiche uttered a cry and
stretched his arms towards her; but every word perished on his lips, and
his strength seemed utterly abandoning him. His right hand, which had
followed his first impulse, without calculating the amount of strength he
had left, fell back again upon the