And weak as he was, he succeeded in dragging himself to the window in
time to satisfy himself of the truth of his conjectures.

"If my father is going out," he thought, "it can only be to visit
Monsieur Lacheneur---then he has not relinquished all hope."

An arm-chair was standing nearby; he sank into it, intending to watch
for his father's return; by doing so, he might know his destiny a few
moments sooner.

Three long hours passed before the baron returned.

By his father's dejected manner he plainly saw that all hope was lost.
He was sure of it; as sure as the criminal who reads the fatal verdict
in the solemn face of the judge.

He had need of all his energy to regain his couch. For a moment he felt
that he was dying.

But he was ashamed of this weakness, which he judged unworthy of him. He
determined to know what had passed--to know the details.

He rang, and told the servant that he wished to speak to his father. M.
d'Escorval promptly made his appearance.

"Well?" cried Maurice.

M. d'Escorval felt that denial was useless.