"Louise—Louise Fougeres!" he cried, beside himself.
The invalid looked sharply at Pierre, and tremblingly said:
"Who called me? Who pronounced my name just now?"
"I, Louise," replied Pierre. "Louise Fougeres, do you not recollect your husband, Jules, and your children, Jacques and Louison?"
"Of course I remember them. Ah, how glad I would be if I could see them again! Where can Jules be? and Jacques—Jacques—"
The maniac was silent, and ran her crippled fingers through her gray hair, as if she were trying to recollect something.
"Yes, I know," she murmured pensively, "Louison is here, she sleeps in a neat white bed, but she is away now—and—and—"
Expectantly Pierre gazed at the poor woman, who was palpably confounding imagination with reality, and after a pause she continued:
"Oh, the door opens now, and Jacques enters! Welcome, my dear child. How handsome you have become. Thank God, I have you again!"
"Has she really found Jacques again?" asked Labarre, tremblingly, and turning to Caillette. "Is he living?"