The comtesse always felt Madame Valade to be not of her class, of course. I bear the marks of some of them about me still," he continued, taking off his wig, and laying bare a bald skull, covered with cicatrices and plates of silver. Still, I'm glad she didn't accept my invitation to join us. For a time I must do journalism and work hard. Sebastian was gone and another doctor came to bleed her, to rid her of the black humors that were causing the plague. The cell in which she was confined was about six feet long and four wide; the walls were scored all over with fantastic designs, snatches of poetry, short sentences and names,—the work of its former occupants, and of its present inmate. At length the task was done, and she jabbed the needle into a cushion, folded the coat, and rose.
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