The truth was that, in spite of his good intentions, Bobichel was dead with sleep, and presently he tumbled upon his mattress, and loud snores informed the two friends that he had succumbed to their entreaties. Then, and not until then, Fanfar leaned toward Gudel.
"You will admit," he said, "that I do not easily become a prey to illusions, but the truth is, that I am greatly disturbed by something that has happened. Will you answer a few questions?"
"Certainly, my boy—any questions."
"You know, my second father, the strange accident by which I was thrown in your way. You have told me of the researches you made in the village of Leigoutte. You learned, did you not, that my mother perished in a fire?"
"Yes—a fire set by the Cossacks."
"And my father?"
"Died on the field of battle, in the defence of France!"
"I am haunted by a dim remembrance of a flight through the darkness, leading my little sister by my side, and then she seemed to vanish."
"And you have never seen her since?"