"But he's asleep; I really believe that he's asleep!"
Waldemar, beside himself with rage, shook him violently by the shoulder. Lupin fell from his chair, sank to the floor, gave two or three convulsive movements and then lay quite still.
"What's the matter with him?" exclaimed the Emperor. "He's not dead, I hope!"
He took a lamp and bent over him:
"How pale he is! A face like wax! . . . Look, Waldemar. . . . Feel his heart. . . . He's alive, is he not?"
"Yes, Sire," said the count, after a moment, "the heart is beating quite regularly."
"Then what is it? I don't understand. . . . What happened?"
"Shall I go and fetch the doctor?"
"Yes, run. . . ."
The doctor found Lupin in the same state, lying inert and quiet. He had him put on a bed, subjected him to a long examination and asked what he had had to eat.