Though his death had often been threatened as a means of assuring the secrecy of enterprises in which he had taken part against his will, his life had never been so endangered as at that moment.

He resolved, before all things, to find out who it was who now employed him, and to discover the actual extent of his danger, in order to save, if possible, his own little person.
"What is the trouble ?" he said to the countess in a low voice, as he placed her in a manner to receive his help.
"Do not give him the child--" "Speak loud!" cried the count in thundering tones which prevented Beauvouloir from hearing the last word uttered by the countess.

"If not," added the count who was careful to disguise his voice, "say your 'In manus.'" "Complain aloud," said the leech to the lady; "cry! scream! Jarnidieu! that man has a necklace that won't fit you any better than me.

Courage, my little lady!" "Touch her lightly!" cried the count.
"Monsieur is jealous," said the operator in a shrill voice, fortunately drowned by the countess's cries.
For Maitre Beauvouloir's safety Nature was merciful.

It was more a miscarriage than a regular birth, and the child was so puny that it caused little suffering to the mother.
"Holy Virgin!" cried the bonesetter, "it isn't a miscarriage, after all!" The count made the floor shake as he stamped with rage.