"And did you also discover a bitter taste?"
"Yes."
"Oh, doctor," cried Barrois, "the fit is coming on again.
Oh, do something for me."
The doctor flew to his patient.
"That emetic, Villefort--see if it is coming."
Villefort sprang into the passage, exclaiming,
"The emetic! the emetic!--is it come yet?"
No one answered.
The most profound terror reigned throughout the house.
"If I had anything by means of which I could inflate the lungs," said d'Avrigny, looking around him, "perhaps I might prevent suffocation.
But there is nothing which would do--nothing!"
"Oh, sir," cried Barrois, "are you going to let me die without help?
Oh, I am dying! Oh, save me!"
"A pen, a pen!" said the doctor.
There was one lying on the table; he endeavored to introduce it into the mouth of the patient, who, in the midst of his convulsions, was making vain attempts to vomit; but the jaws were so clinched that the pen could not pass them.
This second attack was much more violent than the first, and he had slipped from the couch to the ground, where he was writhing in agony.
The doctor left him in this paroxysm, knowing that he could do nothing to alleviate it, and, going up to Noirtier, said abruptly,
"How do you find yourself?--well?"
"Yes."
"Have you any weight on the chest; or does your stomach feel light and comfortable--eh?"
"Yes."
"Then you feel pretty much as you generally do after you have had the dose which I am accustomed to give you every Sunday?"
"Yes."
"Did Barrois make your lemonade?"
"Yes."
"Was it you who asked him to drink some of it?"
"No."
"Was it M. de Villefort?"
"No."
"Madame?"
"No."
"It was your granddaughter, then, was it not?"
"Yes."
A groan from Barrois, accompanied by a yawn which seemed to crack the very jawbones, attracted the attention of M. d'Avrigny; he left M. Noirtier, and returned to the sick man.
"Barrois," said the doctor, "can you speak?"
Barrois muttered a few unintelligible words.
"Try and make an effort to do so, my good man." said d'Avrigny.
Barrois reopened his bloodshot eyes.
"Who made the lemonade?"
"I did."
"Did you bring it to your master directly it was made?"
"No."
"You left it somewhere, then, in the meantime?"
"Yes; I left it in the pantry, because I was called away."
"Who brought it into this room, then?"
"Mademoiselle Valentine."
D'Avrigny struck his forehead with his hand.
"Gracious heaven," exclaimed he.
"Doctor, doctor!" cried Barrois, who felt another fit coming.