Acute Roman fever is a very serious matter. For seven days Audouin lay in extreme danger, hovering between life and death, with the crisis always approaching but never actually arriving. Every day, when the English doctor came to see him, Audouin asked feebly from his pillow, \'Am I getting worse?\' and the doctor, who fancied he was a nervous man, answered cheerfully, \'Well, no, not worse; about the same again this morning, though I\'m afraid I can\'t exactly say you\'re any better. Audouin turned round wearily with a sigh, and thought to himself, \'How hard a thing it is to die, after all, even when you really want to.\'

Colin Churchill came to see him as soon as ever he heard of his illness, and sitting in the easy-chair by the sick man\'s bedside, he said to him in a reproachful tone, \'Mr. Audouin, you don\'t play fair. You\'ve broken the spirit of the agreement. Our compact was, no suicide. Now, I\'m sure you\'ve been recklessly exposing yourself out upon the Campagna, or else why should you have got this fever so very suddenly?\'

Audouin smiled a faint smile from the bed, and answered half incoherently, \'Chapter of accidents. Put your trust in bad luck, and verily you will not be disappointed. But I\'m afraid it\'s a terribly long and tedious piece of work, this dying.\'

\'If you weren\'t so ill,\' Colin answered gravely and sternly, \'I think I should have to be very angry with you. You haven\'t stood by the spirit of the contract. As it is, we must do our best to defeat your endeavours, and bring you back to life again.\'

Audouin moved restlessly in the bed. \'You must do your worst, I recognise,\' he said; \'but I don\'t think you\'ll get the better of the fever for all that: she\'s a goddess, you know, and had her temple once upon the brow of the Palatine. Many have prayed to her to avoid them; it must be a novelty for her to hear a prayer for her good company. Perhaps she may be merciful to her only willing votary. But she\'s long about it; she might have got through by this time. Anyhow, you mustn\'t be too hard upon me, Churchill.\'

As for Hiram, Audouin\'s illness came upon him like a final thunderclap. Everything had gone ill with him lately; he had reached almost the blackest abyss of despondency already; and if Audouin were to die now, he felt that his cup of bitterness would be overflowing. Besides, though he knew nothing, of course, of Audouin\'s interview with Colin Churchill, he had a grave suspicion in his own mind that his friend had egged himself into an illness by brooding over Truman\'s visit and Hiram\'s own proposals for returning to America. Of course all that was laid aside now, at least for the present. Whatever came, he must stop and nurse Audouin; and he nursed him with all the tender care and delicacy of a woman.

Gwen came round often, too, and sat watching in the sick-room for hours together. The colonel objected to it seriously—so very extraordinary, you know; indeed, really quite compromising; but Gwen was not to be kept away by the colonel\'s scruples and prejudices; so she watched and waited in her own good time, taking turns with Hiram in day and night nursing. It was all perfect misery to Audouin; the more he wanted to die for Gwen\'s and Hiram\'s convenience, the more utterly determined they both seemed to be to keep him living somehow at all hazards.

On the seventh day, the crisis came, and Audouin began to sink rapidly. Gwen and Hiram were both by his bedside, and Colin Churchill and Minna were waiting anxiously in the little salon alongside. When the doctor came, he stopped longer than usual; and as he passed out, Colin asked him what news this morning of the poor patient. The doctor twirled his watch-chain quietly. \'Well,\' he said, in his calm professional manner, \'I should say it was probable he would get through the night; but I doubt if he\'ll live over Sunday.\'

\'Then there\'s no hope, you think?\' Minna asked with tears in her eyes.

\'Well, I couldn\'t exactly say that,\' the doctor answered. \'A medical man always hopes to the last moment, especially in acute diseases. The critical point\'s hardly reached yet. Oh yes, he might recover; he might recover, certainly; but it isn\'t likely.\'

Colin and Minna sat down once more in the empty salon, and looked at one another long, without speaking. At last there came a knock at the door. Colin answered \'Enter,\' and a servant entered. \'A card for Signor Vintrop,\' he said, handing it to Colin. \'The bringer says he must see him on important business immediately.\'

Colin cast a careless glance at the card. It was that of a well-known Roman picture-dealer, agent for one of the largest firms of fine art auctioneers in London. \'How very ill-timed,\' he said to Minna, handing her the card. At any other moment, Hiram would have been delighted; but it\'s quite impossible to trouble him with this at such a crisis.

\'Does he want to buy some of Mr. Winthrop\'s pictures, do you think, Colin?\' Minna asked anxiously.

\'I\'m sure he does; but it can\'t be helped now. Tell the gentleman that Mr. Winthrop can\'t see him now, if you please, Antonio. He\'s watching by the side of the American signor who is dying.\'

Antonio bowed and went out. In a minute he returned once more. \'The person can\'t wait,\' he said; \'the affair is urgent. He wishes to give Signor Vintrop an important commission. He wishes to buy pictures, many pictures, immediately. He has come from the studio, hearing that Signor Vintrop was at the hotel, and he wishes particularly to speak with him instantaneously.\'

Colin looked at Minna and shook his head.

\'This is very annoying, really, Minna,\' he said with a sigh. \'At any other time, it would have been a perfect godsend; but now—one can\'t drag him away from poor Audouin\'s bedside. Tell the gentleman, Antonio,\' he went on in Italian, \'that Mr. Winthrop can\'t possibly see him. It is most absolutely and decidedly impossible.\'

Antonio went away, and for half an hour more Colin and Minna conversed together in an undertone without further interruption. Then a knock came again, and Antonio entered with a second card. It bore the name of another famous Roman picture-dealer, the agent for the rival London firm. \'He says he must see Signor Vintrop without delay,\' Antonio reported, \'upon important business of the strictest urgency.\'

Colin hesitated a moment. \'This is really very remarkable, Minna,\' he said slowly, turning over the card in great perplexity. \'Why on earth should the two principal picture-dealers in Rome want to see Hiram Winthrop so very particularly on the same morning?\'

\'I can\'t imagine,\' Minna answered, looking at the card curiously. \'Don\'t you think, Colin, you\'d better see the man and ask him what\'s the meaning of it?\'

Colin nodded assent, and went to the door to speak to the dealer. As he did so, a second servant stepped up with yet another card, that of a Manchester picture-agent in person.

\'What do you want to see Mr. Winthrop for in such a hurry?\' Colin asked the Italian dealer. \'How is it you all wish to buy his pictures the same morning? He\'s been in Rome a good many years now, but nobody ever seemed in any great haste to ............