The doctor had looked in late and said that the crisis was at hand.
"To-morrow your friend will either sink or he will turn the corner.
He is asleep now and will probably sleep for many hours.

He may never wake again; he may wake, recognize you for a few minutes, and then go off in a last stupor; he may wake stronger and with a chance of life.

Here is a draught that you will give him as soon as he opens his eyes; pour besides three or four spoonfuls of soup down his throat, and if he keeps awake do the same every half hour." It was not until ten o'clock in the morning that Victor opened his eyes.

He looked vaguely round the room and there was no recognition in his eyes as they fell upon Harry's face, but they had lost the wild expression they had worn while he had lain there, and Harry felt renewed hope as he lifted his head and poured the draught between his lips.

Then he gave him a few spoonfuls of soup and had the satisfaction of seeing his eyes close again and his breathing become more and more regular.
The doctor, when he came in and felt Victor's pulse, nodded approval.
"The fever has quite left him," he said; "I think he will do now.
It will be slow, very slow, but I think he will regain his strength; as to his mind, of that I can say nothing at present." About mid-day Elise returned.
"I have good news, monsieur," she said at once.