time?” asked he, fixing his two large eyes upon the impassible countenance of the physician.

“My lord, we never tell that.”

“To ordinary men, perhaps not; — but to me — to me, whose every minute is worth a treasure. Tell me, Guenaud, tell me!”

“No, no, my lord.”

“I insist upon it, I tell you. Oh! give me a month, and for every one of those thirty days I will pay you a hundred thousand crowns.”

“My lord,” replied Guenaud, in a firm voice, “it is God who can give you days of grace, and not I. God only allows you a fortnight.”

The cardinal breathed a painful sigh, and sank back down upon his pillow, murmuring,