He dropped it, and threw a glance
on Julian. There was a scream of interrogation in Julian's fixed eyes.
Doctor Levillier avoided it by dropping his own, and again turning his
attention to the figure on the divan. He undid Valentine's shirt, bared
the breast, and laid his hand on the heart, keeping it there for a long
time.
"Fetch me a hand-glass," he said to Julian.
Mechanically, Julian went into the bedroom, and groped in the dark upon
the dressing-table.
"Well, have you got it? Why don't you turn up the light?"
"I don't know," Julian answered, drily.
Doctor Levillier saw that anxiety was beginning to unnerve him. When the
glass was found the doctor led Julian back to the tentroom and pushed him
gently down in a chair.
"Keep quiet," he said. "And--keep hoping."
"There is--there is--hope?"
"Why not?"
Then the doctor held the little glass to Valentine's lips. The bright
surface was not dimmed. No breath of life tarnished it to dulness. Again
the doctor felt his heart, drew his eyelids apart, and carefully examined
the eyes, then turned slowly round.
"Doctor--doctor!" Julian whispered. "Why do you turn away? What are you
going to do?"
Doctor Levillier made a gesture of finale, and knelt on the floor by
Valentine.
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