empty to the very dregs the glass which Valentine had filled. Valentine and Morrel were exchanging their adieux in the presence of Noirtier when a ring was heard at the doorbell. It was the signal of a visit. Valentine looked at her watch.
“It is past noon,” said she, “and today is Saturday; I dare say it is the doctor, grandpapa.”
Noirtier looked his conviction that she was right in her supposition.
“He will come in here, and M. Morrel had better go—do you not think so, grandpapa?”
“Yes,” signed the old man.
“Barrois,” cried Valentine, “Barrois!”
“I am coming, mademoiselle,” replied he.
“Barrois will open the door for you,” said Valentine, addressing Morrel. “And now remember one thing, Monsieur Officer, that my grandfather commands you not to take any rash or ill-advised step which would be likely to compromise our happiness.”
“I promised him to wait,” replied Morrel; “and I will wait.”
At this moment Barrois entered. “Who rang?” asked Valentine.
“Doctor d’Avrigny,” said Barrois, staggering as if he would fall.
“What is the matter, Barrois?” said Valentine. The old man did not answer, but looked at his master with wild staring eyes, while with his cramped hand he grasped a piece of furniture to enable him to stand upright.
“He is going to fall!” cried Morrel.