The old man made no reply, but pressed Louis's hand convulsively to his panting breast. The younger man, conscious of a strange and increasing emotion, felt the tears spring to his eyes. "Listen to me, my good father," he began. "Oh, say that once more--just once more," murmured the old man, hoarsely. "Ah, well, my good father--" But Louis did not finish the sentence, for his guest, unable to restrain himself any longer, raised himself up in bed, at the same time exclaiming, in a voice vibrating with tenderness: "Louis!" That name, uttered with all the passion of a despairing soul, was a revelation. The younger man turned as pale as death, started back, and stood as if petrified, with fixed, staring eyes. The shock was too great, and several seconds elapsed before the thought, "My father is not dead," could penetrate his brain. Does not the sudden transition from intense darkness into bright sunlight blind us for a time? But when the blissful truth dawned upon Louis's mind, he threw himself on his knees by the old man's bedside, and, putting back his long white locks with a feverish hand, studied his father's features with eager, radiant eyes, until, convinced beyond a doubt, he could only murmur in a sort of ecstasy: "My father, oh, God, my father!" * * * * * The scene that ensued between father and son beggars description; but when the first transports of happiness had given place to a momentary calm, Father Richard said to his son: "I will tell you my story in a few words, my dear Louis. I have been asleep for five years, and woke only forty-eight hours ago." "What do you mean?" "I was with poor Ramon and his daughter in one of the worst wrecked carriages. In some providential way my life was saved, though my right leg was broken, and fright deprived me of reason." "You, father?"