"I missed him, but patience, patience!"
These words, which were only too significant to Madame Bastien, showed how persistently the idea of vengeance still clung to Frederick. Thanks to Doctor Dufour's almost providential presence, the promptest and most efficacious attentions were lavished upon Frederick, and the physician spent the remainder of the night and the morning of the next day with the sick youth. Toward evening there was a decided change for the better in his condition. The delirium ceased, and it was with unusual effusiveness that the poor boy thanked his mother for her devotion, weeping freely the while.
Madame Bastien's relief was so great that she deluded herself with the idea that the violence of this crisis had effected a salutary change in the condition of her son's mind, and that he was saved, so about ten o'clock in the evening she yielded to the doctor's persuasions, and consented to lie down and rest while old Marguerite watched over her son.
When she returned to her son's bedside she found him sleeping soundly, so motioning Marguerite to follow her, she asked:
"Has he rested well?"
"Very well, madame. He woke only twice, and talked very sensibly, I assure you."
"What did he say?"
"Oh, he talked about different things. Among others he asked me where his gun was, and when I told him madame had made me put it away, he said: 'That's all right, Marguerite, but don't tell my mother I've been asking for my gun. It might worry her if she thought I had any idea of hunting again, weak as I am.'"
So he had hardly recovered from this attack before Frederick's mind was again engrossed with thoughts of vengeance. Marie had only just made this deplorable discovery when a letter was handed to her. Madame Bastien recognised her husband's handwriting, consequently this was the reply to the letter in which she had announced her intention of travelling with Frederick.
"BOURGES, November 5, 1846.