On the table were some bottles and the remains of an ample repast. The prince lay sleeping on a bed against the wall. Bernard tapped him on the shoulder:
"Courage, sir."
The prisoner sprang up, terrified:
"Eh? What's that?"
"I said, courage, sir. The hour has come."
Pale as death, the prince stammered:
"Courage? . . . Courage? . . . I don't understand. . . . Oh Lord, oh Lord, is it possible?"
"Everything is always possible," said Bernard, "and what has to happen always happens, especially calamities." And he suggested, "A glass of rum, sir, to pull you together? A cigarette?"
"Oh Lord, oh Lord!" the prince repeated, trembling like a leaf.
Mechanically he took the cigarette offered him. But it fell from his lips after the first few puffs.