There followed a few hours of comparative calm; and Mme. Morestal, although tortured at Philippe's absence and fearing that he might do something rash, was able to lie down on the sofa.
It was then that Catherine rushed into the room, at the risk of disturbing the patient's rest.
Mme. Morestal ended by bundling her off:
"Hold your tongue, can't you? Don't you see that your master's asleep?"
"They're mobilizing the troops, ma'am.... It's certain that we shall have war...."
"Oh, don't bother us with your war!" growled the good woman, pushing her out of the room. "Boil some water for your master and don't waste your time talking nonsense."
She herself went to work at once. But all around her was a confused noise of murmurs and exclamations, coming from the terrace, the garden and the house.
Morestal woke up at nine o'clock.
"Suzanne! Where's Suzanne?" he asked, almost before he opened his eyes.
"What! Suzanne!..."