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These afflictions, the rapidity with which they had followed one another and their magnitude impaired the health of the Marquis. He fell ill in his turn, and for more than a month Coursegol thought the shadow of death was hovering over his master. But the Marquis was young and strong; and the thought that if he succumbed his son would be left an orphan produced a salutary reaction.
The youthful Royalist was the next victim, and the preceding scene with all its horrors was repeated. Then the Republican, accused of Modérantisme, met his fate, then the priest, and then, one by one, the three women, each execution having a similar finale. Dolores and Coursegol alone were left of all the condemned.
Never had his skill been needed more than now, for poor Tiepoletta had not recovered consciousness, and her rigidity and the ghastly pallor which had overspread her features seemed to indicate that she had already been struck with death. Anxious to resuscitate her, Coursegol set energetically to work, but not without emotion.
For four years he had buried his secret so deeply in his own heart that even Coursegol had not suspected it, so he did not find it difficult to continue this rôle under the eyes of his father; and, though the burden he imposed upon himself had become much heavier by reason of the presence of Dolores, his hopes supplied him with strength to endure it. For his hopes were great!
After the exciting and terrible scenes of the Reign of Terror through which he had passed, he longed for quiet and repose. Coursegol was made the steward of his estate and managed it with such shrewdness and intelligence that Philip became rich and all the prestige of the Chamondrins was restored.
She saw him approaching and advanced to meet him, laughing and crying and displaying the child; then, overcome by the violence of her emotion, she fell in his extended arms, devoid of consciousness. "She is saved!" said Coursegol, who had followed his master. "Ah, Coursegol, can it be true?" demanded the Marquis, who could scarcely believe his own eyes. "Did she not recognize you?
Teach her not to scorn the poor gypsies. Tell her that her father and her mother belonged to that despised race." She uttered these phrases slowly, speaking, not without difficulty, French words that would clearly express her meaning. "Have no fears," replied Coursegol. "The child shall want for nothing. Rest in peace." "Yes," she repeated, "rest in death."
Coursegol and the Marquis both sprang forward, lifted her, and endeavored to restore her, but in vain. The unfortunate Tiepoletta was dead. Her heart had broken like a fragile vase, shattered by the successive misfortunes she had undergone. A great tear fell from the eyes of Coursegol. "Poor woman!" said he. "What shall we do with the child?" inquired the Marquis.
They obeyed: all the servants vanished; the Marquise alone remained. Then Coursegol deposited the child upon a wide bench that stood against the wall, and, departing in his turn, ran to conceal himself behind a window where he could see his mistress without being seen. It was there the Marquis found him. "Ah! sir," exclaimed Coursegol on beholding his master, "I believe madame is saved.
During their journey, Coursegol had done his best to cheer his young master, but as they neared Chamondrin he, too, became a victim to the melancholy he had endeavored to dissipate.
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