commander bravely held his ground, and at the end of five or six days,
during which no one disturbed him, began to think the only result of the
incident would be the anxiety it had caused him.

Every evening as soon as it was dark he betook himself to the doctor's,
wrapped in his cloak, armed to the teeth, and his hat pulled down over
his eyes. For two days and nights, Charlotte, whom to avoid confusion we
shall continue to call the Chevalier de Moranges, hovered between life
and death. Her youth and the strength of her constitution enabled her at
last to overcome the fever, in spite of the want of skill of the surgeon
Perregaud.

Although de Jars was the only person who visited the chevalier, he was
not the only one who was anxious about the patient's health. Maitre
Quennebert, or men engaged by him to watch, for he did not want to
attract attention, were always prowling about the neighbourhood, so that
he was kept well informed of everything that went on: The instructions he
gave to these agents were, that if a funeral should leave the house, they
were to find out the name of the deceased, and then to let him know
without delay. But all these precautions seemed quite useless: he always
received the same answer to all his questions, "We know nothing." So at
last he determined to address himself directly to the man who could give
him information on which he could rely.

One night the commander left the surgeon's feeling more cheerful than
usual, for the chevalier had passed a good day, and there was every hope
that he was on the road to complete recovery. Hardly had de Jars gone
twenty paces when someone laid a hand on his shoulder. He turned and saw
a man whom, in the darkness, he did not recognise.