Nobody dared to answer. Everybody waited for Monsieur Roger; but Monsieur Roger kept silent. He let nature take care of itself. Indeed, he even hid himself slightly behind Monsieur Dalize. Paul's looks passed over the faces which were in front or beside him; but they did not stop there: they seemed to look for something or some one which they did not meet. Then, with a sudden movement, Paul bent over a little. He saw Monsieur Roger; he started; the blood came back to his face; he tried to speak, and could only let fall a few confused words. But, though they could not understand his words, what they did understand was his gesture. He held out his arms towards Monsieur Roger. The latter advanced and clasped Paul Solange in a fatherly embrace.
The effort made by the sick boy had wearied him. He closed his eyes in sleep; but this time it was a healthy sleep, a refreshing sleep.
Monsieur Roger and Monsieur Dalize took the sleeping Paul up to his room. And Miss Miette, as she regained her boudoir, said to herself, with astonishment,—
"It is extraordinary! Monsieur Roger embraced Paul as if he were his papa."
[CHAPTER XXII.]
GEORGE! GEORGE!
Monsieur Roger stayed up all the remainder of that night by the side of Paul, whose sleep was calm and dreamless, like the sleep which succeeds to some strong emotion, some great fatigue. Paul was still sleeping in the morning when Monsieur Dalize softly turned the handle of the door and entered the room on tiptoe. His entrance was made with so much precaution that Monsieur Roger himself did not hear him.
Monsieur Dalize had some seconds in which to observe Roger. He saw him sitting beside the bed, his eyes fixed upon the child, in a thoughtful attitude. Monsieur Roger was studying the delicate face which lay upon the pillow. He examined its features one by one, and, thinking himself alone, thinking that he would not be interrupted in this examination, he was calling up the mysterious resemblance with which he had already acquainted his friend. But he had not just now begun this study,—he had pursued it all night. The light, however, of the lowered lamp had not been favorable, and the emotion which he felt agitated him still too much to leave his judgment clear. When the morning sun had risen, chasing away all the vague images of the darkness and the doubts of the mind. Roger, having recovered his composure, looked at the child whom he had saved, and asked himself if the child was not his own. He was drawn from these reflections by feeling himself touched upon the shoulder. Monsieur Dalize had approached and asked,—