Jarnonville seemed to reflect before he replied; at last he said to the friends:
"Your conjectures may be well founded; yes, it may well be that, instead of a duel, the count was the victim of an ambuscade."
"Besides, you have made inquiries, chevalier, have you not? you have seen a number of gentlemen who are friends of Léodgard, and no one of them knows of his having fought a duel?"
"No, madame; nor has anyone heard even of a possible quarrel. But, in truth, since the cardinal issued such a severe edict against duellists, there is little inclination to boast of such affairs; on the contrary, whoever has one on hand tries to keep it entirely secret. For that reason, whatever the cause of the count's wound, it is prudent to attribute it to a nocturnal attack."
"Especially as it is probably the truth; otherwise, would my husband think so constantly of that Giovanni?"
On the twenty-first day, the surgeon, having paid an early visit to his patient, because he expected a crisis which would be decisive of his fate, sent the ladies away, allowing no one to remain with him save the Sire de Jarnonville; then he waited to see what Providence rather than his skill would do for the count.
He had been in a violent fever since the night before, but the delirium had ceased. Toward morning the fever subsided and was ere long succeeded by a peaceful sleep.
Then the surgeon went to Bathilde, who was in an adjoining room, on her knees, with her daughter kneeling beside her. Both were praying; and they were such pure and spotless creatures that their prayers were granted.
"Saved! I will answer for him now!" said the surgeon, as he approached the countess.
She seized the doctor's hands, pressed them to her heart, and would have kissed them if he had not prevented her.—Is not he who restores to us a person whom we love a god in our eyes? and do we not always feel that words are powerless to express our gratitude?