His beard and fair hair made a golden patch on the white linen; he did not wake, but he ceased snoring.
Pierre, leaning over him, gazed at him with hungry eagerness.

No, this youngster was not in the least like Roland; and for the second time the recollection of the little portrait of Marechal, which had vanished, recurred to his mind.

He must find it! When he should see it perhaps he should cease to doubt! His brother stirred, conscious no doubt of a presence, or disturbed by the light of the taper on his eyelids.

The doctor retired on tip-toe to the door which he noiselessly closed; then he went back to his room, but not to bed again.
Day was long in coming.

The hours struck one after another on the dining-room clock, and its tone was a deep and solemn one, as though the little piece of clockwork had swallowed a cathedral-bell.