When he once more opened his eyes Léon found himself in bed with a surgeon seated beside him. His wound had been redressed, and everything done for him that kindness could suggest. His servant, whom he tried to question, was eager to tell him, in a few words, what had happened, but the surgeon interrupted him and ordered silence and rest.
To Mme. de Roselis, who was anxiously awaiting news of the sick man, it was a shock to learn that he was extremely weak from loss of blood and that, in the event of fever setting in, he could hardly be expected to resist it. Perfect quiet was ordered. It was decided that the ladies must not go into his room, but should content themselves with seeing that he had everything he needed.
Next morning, Elinor rang her bell before dawn, and was terrified to learn that fever had set in during the night, to be followed by delirium. It was only then, in the surprise she felt at her own despair, that she realized how dear Léon had become to her, and she now admitted to herself that she could never be happy without him. Of her pride and futile prejudices nothing remained; her whole being was engrossed by the thought of his danger. Mme. de Gernancé was so afraid her agitation would betray her that she took great trouble throughout the day to keep her out of the patient's room; but the next night, when her household was in bed, and she was once more alone and sleepless in the solemn silence which intensifies suffering and renders fear unbearable, Elinor, unable any longer to wrestle with her anxiety, rose and slipped out into the corridor to listen at the door of Léon's room and find out how he was. He was still evidently delirious, and the distressed accents of his trembling voice came brokenly to her ear. Forgetting everything but her grief, she opened the door softly and went in.
The nurse had fallen asleep. By the dim light of the lamp she recognized the pleasant features that were so deeply graven on her memory; but the eyes were now fixed, the face bright with fever; his labored breathing could scarcely lift the sheet that seemed to weigh all too heavily on his chest. Elinor dropped into an arm-chair that was close to the door and hid her face and her tears in her two hands.
The slight noise she made roused Léon from his momentary stupor.
"Is that she?" he said. "Will she come? I am going to die. Let me see her at last. Tell her I am dying. But where is she to be found? I have lost her—lost her forever."
He paused, and then began again.
"My daughter—bring her to me. Can they refuse to let me see my child when I am dying? Poor little thing! Don't try to find your father. You have none. He was not able even to give you his blessing in his last moments."
This was too much for Elinor, and she burst out sobbing.
Léon started and turned his head slightly, but his eyes, still fixed, saw nothing.