A Parisian Romance — page 47: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

38 A PARISIAN ROMANCE. my skill is powerless here, the end is not far off, and I considered it best to allow him to have his way.” “Do you mean, doctor, that my father is in imme- diate danger?” exclaimed Henri. “Yes. Itis a question of hours.” The shock to Henri was great. Although he had cared but little for his father, it was impossible to hear of his being thus suddenly stricken down with no apparent warning, without a feeling of awe. There was but little conversation between the two men after this. They sat there in the dimly lhghted study, each absorbed by his own thoughts, silently awaiting they knew not what. Suddenly, the stillness was broken by the sound of the opening of a door, and in another moment Madame de Targy stood before them. She still wore the superb reception-dress of gray silk and purple velvet she had appeared in at the wedding, but she had removed her jewels. Her snow-white hair had become unloosened and hung in elf locks about her pallid face; the lines about her mouth were drawn, and her eyes, in their hollow sockets, had that vacant stare seen in somnambulists. With an exclamation of horror, Henri started to his feet. His mother had aged ten years since the morning. Without a word, he stretched out his arms to her, but with an imperious gesture, she waved him back: “Do not come near me! Do not touch me! Leare Eomicbooks.¢co