The excellent doctor hesitated.
“I will hand them to you,” he said at last, “if you will assure me that the interests of justice require it. But why not wait”—
He did not dare say, “Why not wait for M. Champcey’s death?” but the lawyer understood him.
“I will wait,” he said.
While thus talking, they had reached the door. They shook hands; and the chief surgeon, his heart fall of darkest presentiments, slowly made his way to the hospital.
A great surprise awaited him there. Daniel, whom he had left in a desperate condition, almost dying,—Daniel slept profoundly, sweetly. His pale face had recovered its usual expression; and his respiration was free and regular.
“It is almost indescribable,” said the old doctor, whose experience was utterly at fault. “I am an ass; and our science is a bubble.”
Turning to Lefloch, who had respectfully risen at his entrance, he asked,—
“Since when has your master been sleeping in this way?”
“For an hour, commandant.”