“Heaven needs to watch over you!” murmured Suzon.
“They think he got away—the obvious conclusion. So now we have nothing to do but to make that surmise a fact.” Suddenly she turned her head. “What, in heaven’s name, is the poor boy doing in there now?”
He was singing; and as the two women went hastily in, it was apparent that his choice was that gay little air, La Double Violette.
“Suzon,” said the Duchesse in alarm, after a moment, “he is light-headed. Is he worse? What ought I to do?”
“I expect,” replied Mme Tessier, “that a surgeon would say he should be bled.”
“Bled! when he has lost so much blood already!”
“Rossignol prend sa volée,
Au château d’amour s’en va,”
chanted Roland, more and more out of tune.
“Oh, poor nightingale!” exclaimed Valentine, half laughing. “ ‘Château d’amour,’ indeed!”