But never in all his ravings did he mention the marquis or the tragedy of the last rout.
Some secret consciousness locked his lips.

Sometimes Brother Jacques entered the berthroom and applied cold cloths, and rarely the young priest failed to quiet the patient.

Often Victor came in softly to find the Chevalier sleeping that restless sleep of the fever-bound and the priest, a hand propping his chin, lost in reverie.

One night Victor had been up with the Chevalier.

The berthroom was close and stifling.