“Quite naturally, commandant.  After you left, the lieutenant was for some time pretty wild yet; but soon he quieted down, and finally he asked for something to drink.  I gave him a cup of your tea; he took it, and then asked me to help him turn over towards the wall.  I did so, and I saw him remain so, his arm bent, and his head in his hand, like a man who is thinking profoundly.  But about a quarter of an hour later, all of a sudden, I thought I heard him gasp.  I came up softly on tiptoe, and looked.  I was mistaken; the lieutenant was not gasping, he was crying like a baby; and what I had heard were sobs.  Ah, commandant!  I felt as if somebody had kicked me in the stomach.  Because, you see, I know him; and I know, that, before a man such as he is goes to crying like a little child, he must have suffered more than death itself.  Holy God!  If I knew where I could catch them, these rascals who give him all this trouble”—­

His fists rose instinctively, and most undoubtedly something bright started from his eyes which looked prodigiously like a tear rolling slowly down one of the deep furrows in his cheek.

“Now,” he continued in a half-stifled voice, “I saw why the lieutenant had wished to turn his face to the wall, and I went back without making a noise.  A moment after that, he began talking aloud.  But he was right in his senses now, I tell you.”

“What did he say?”

“Ah! he said something like, ‘Henrietta, Henrietta!’ Always that good friend of his, for whom he was forever calling when he had the fever.  And then he said, ’I am killing her, I!  I am the cause of her death.  Fool, stupid, idiot that I am!  He has sworn to kill me and Henrietta, the wretch!  He swore it no doubt, the very day on which I, fool as I was, confided Henrietta and my whole fortune to him.’”

“Did he say that?”

“The very words, commandant, but better, a great deal better.”

The old surgeon seemed to be amazed.

“That cunning lawyer had judged rightly,” he said.  “He suspected there was something else; and here it is.”

“You say, commandant?” asked the good sailor.

“Nothing of interest to you.  Go on.”

“Well, after that—­but there is nothing more to tell, except that I heard nothing more.  The lieutenant remained in the same position till I came to light the lamp; then he ordered me to make him tack ship, and to let down the screen over the lamp.  I did so.  He gave out two or three big sighs, and then goodnight, and nothing more.  He was asleep as you see him now.”

“And how did his eyes look when he fell asleep?”

“Quite calm and bright.”

The doctor looked like a man to whom something has happened which is utterly inexplicable to him, and said in a low voice,—­

“He will pull through, I am sure now.  I said there could not be another miracle; and here it is!”

Then turning to Lefloch, he asked,—­