"No, madame, only he has had considerable difficulty in breathing once or twice."
"Heaven grant that his wound may not prove fatal!" exclaimed Suzanne, clasping her hands imploringly, and raising her tearful eyes heavenward.
"The surgeon assured you to the contrary, you know, madame."
"He told me that he had hopes of his recovery, that is all, alas!"
"I think he is waking, madame," whispered the peasant woman, for Onésime had just made a slight movement and uttered a deep sigh.
Suzanne peeped in again, and, seeing that Onésime was not asleep, she said to the peasant:
"Go down and get your dinner. I will ring for you when I want you."
The nurse left the room, and Suzanne seated herself in the chair the woman had just vacated.
On hearing his aunt's voice, Onésime looked greatly relieved; and when he saw her seat herself near him, he exclaimed:
"So you have come at last! How glad I am!"