The comte spoke to nobody; he did not even talk to himself.

His thought feared noise; it approached to that degree of over-excitement which borders upon ecstasy.

Man thus absorbed, though he does not yet belong to God, already appertains no longer to the earth.
The doctor remained for several hours studying this painful struggle of the will against superior power; he was terrified at seeing those eyes always fixed, ever directed on some invisible object; was terrified at the monotonous beating of that heart from which never a sigh arose to vary the melancholy state; for often pain becomes the hope of the physician.

Half a day passed away thus.

The doctor formed his resolution like a brave man; he issued suddenly from his place of retreat, and went straight up to Athos, who beheld him without evincing more surprise than if he had understood nothing of the apparition.
"Monsieur le comte, I crave your pardon," said the doctor, coming up to the patient with open arms; "but I have a reproach to make you--you shall hear me." And he seated himself by the pillow of Athos, who had great trouble in rousing himself from his preoccupation.
"What is the matter, doctor ?" asked the comte, after a silence.
"The matter is, you are ill, monsieur, and have had no advice." "I! ill!" said Athos, smiling.
"Fever, consumption, weakness, decay, monsieur le comte!" "Weakness!" replied Athos; "is it possible?
I do not get up." "Come, come! monsieur le comte, no subterfuges; you are a good Christian ?" "I hope so," said Athos.
"Is it your wish to kill yourself ?" "Never, doctor." "Well! monsieur, you are in a fair way of doing so.