Rousing his sleeping assistant, he ordered him
to raise the patient's head a little, while, with a small spatula, he
pried the firmly set teeth apart sufficiently to allow the liquid he
had prepared to trickle slowly into the mouth. As it reached the throat
there was a spasmodic contraction that gave Maitre Laurent an instant
of intense anxiety--but it was only momentary, and the remainder of the
dose was swallowed easily and with almost instantaneous effect. A slight
tinge of colour showed itself in the pallid cheeks, the eyelids trembled
and half unclosed, and the hand that had lain inert and motionless upon
the counterpane stirred a little. Then the young duke heaved a deep
sigh, and opening his eyes looked vacantly in about him, like one
awakening from a dream, or returning from those mysterious regions
whither the soul takes flight when unconsciousness holds this mortal
frame enthralled. Only a glance, and the long eyelashes fell again upon
the pale cheeks--but a wonderful change had passed over the countenance.
"I staked everything on that move," said Maitre Laurent to himself,
with a long breath of relief, "and I have won. It was either kill or
cure--and it has not killed him. All glory be to Aesculapius, Hygeia,
and Hippocrates!"
At this moment a hand noiselessly put aside the hangings over the door,
and the venerable head of the prince appeared--looking ten years older
for the agony and dread of the terrible night just passed.
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