seemed to her she had hardly closed her eyes when she was rudely awakened. Mrs. Daquin was shaking her roughly, a dressing-gown thrown hastily over her nightdress.
“Mimi, come quickly!” she was calling. “Something’s happened to your father.”
“What’s the matter? Have you called the doctor?” asked Mimi as she hurried down the hall after Mrs. Daquin. Mimi was now thoroughly awake, a strange fear in her heart.
“Yes, he’s on the way here,” the older woman whispered as they entered Jean’s bedroom.
Jean was lying on the bed stretched at full length. His breath came with difficulty and his face was covered with a cold, clammy perspiration. Mimi with a little cry of distress and fear, quickly checked, flung herself on her knees beside the bed. She tried to feel Jean’s pulse but could find no trace. She pressed her head against Jean’s breast, trying to hear or feel his heart beating. An icy terror came over her when she could feel no throbbing. Jean groaned heavily as though in great pain. Mimi was happy to hear it—at least, that was a sign that Jean was not dead.