"Tell me what is the matter with her, what is the matter with her?"
Servigny picked up the bottle of chloroform which had fallen upon the floor.
"She has drugged herself," said he.
He placed his ear to her heart; then he added:
"But she is not dead; we can resuscitate her. Have you any ammonia?"
The maid, bewildered, repeated: "Any what, Monsieur?"
"Any smelling-salts."
"Yes, Monsieur." "Bring them at once, and leave the door open to make a draft of air."
The Marquise, on her knees, was sobbing: "Yvette! Yvette, my daughter, my daughter, listen, answer me, Yvette, my child. Oh, my God! my God! what has she done?"
The men, frightened, moved about without speaking, bringing water, towels, glasses, and vinegar. Some one said: "She ought to be undressed." And the Marquise, who had lost her head, tried to undress her daughter; but did not know what she was doing. Her hands trembled and faltered, and she groaned: