The Chevalier knelt, not because he was in sympathy with Chaumonot's Latin, but because he desired not to be conspicuous. God was not in his heart save in a shadowy way; rather an infinite weariness, a sense of drifting blindly, a knowledge of a vague and futile grasping at the end of things. And winding in and out of all he heard was that mysterious voice asking: "Whither bound?" Aye, whither bound, indeed! Visions of golden days flitted across his mind's eye, snatches of his youth; the pomp and glory of court as he first saw it; the gallant epoch of the Fronde; the warm sunshine of forgotten summers; and the woman he loved! … The Chevalier was conscious of a pain of stupendous weight bearing down upon his eyes. Waves of dizziness, accompanied by flashes of fire, passed to and fro through his aching head. His tongue was thick and his lips were cracked with fever. It seemed but a moment gone that he had been shaking with the cold. He found himself fighting what he supposed to be an attack of seasickness, but this was not the malady which was seizing him in its pitiless grasp.
Chaumonot's voice rose and fell. Why had the marquis given this man a thousand livres? What evil purpose lay behind it? The marquis gave to the Church? He was surprised to find himself struggling against a wild desire to laugh. Sometimes the voice sounded like thunder in his ears; anon, it was so far away that he could hear only the echo of it. Presently the mass came to an end. The worshipers rose by twos and threes. But the Chevalier remained kneeling. The next roll of the ship toppled him forward upon his face, where he lay motionless. Several sprang to his aid, the vicomte and Victor being first. Together they lifted the Chevalier to his feet, but his knees doubled up. He was unconscious.
"Paul?" cried Victor in alarm. "He is seasick?" turning anxiously toward the vicomte.
"This is not seasickness; more likely a reaction. Here comes Lieutenant Nicot, who has some fame as a leech. He will tell us what the trouble is."
A hasty examination disclosed that the Chevalier was in the first stages of brain fever, and he was at once conveyed to his berthroom. Victor was inconsolable; the vicomte, thoughtful; and even the Comte d'Hérouville showed some interest.
"What brought this on?" asked Nicot, when the Chevalier was stretched on his mattress.
The vicomte glanced significantly at Victor.
"He … The Chevalier has just passed through an extraordinary mental strain," Victor stammered.
"Of what nature?" asked Nicot.
"Never mind what nature, Lieutenant," interrupted the vicomte. "It is enough that he has brain fever. The question is, can you bring him around?"