A little later Mme. de Gernancé joined them, looking anxiously for her friend. She too had risen before daybreak and, not finding Elinor in her own apartments, had hastened to the sick room, where the spectacle before her eyes arrested her at the door. Léon was asleep, supported on Elinor's shoulder, while she, seated motionless on the edge of the bed with her head bent over her lover's, was vainly endeavoring to check the tears that streamed from her eyes. Mme. de Gernancé hastened up to the bed. "What are you doing here, Elinor?" she said in a low whisper. "How imprudent you are!" "Leave me alone," her friend rejoined. "Nothing will induce me to leave this bed until this unfortunate man is either dead or saved. I don't care who knows that I love him and that I am his; it is a just punishment for my offenses. If only he might live! Nothing else matters." Fear of disturbing the patient kept them both silent after that, and Léon's sleep continued as calm as it was sound. He had slept several hours when, half opening his eyes, and making an effort to lift the heavy lids, his first glance fell on the trembling Elinor, who was trying gently to put him back on the pillows. He closed his eyes again. Then, once more opening them, "Where am I?" he said in a weak voice. Then, seeing that he was almost in the arms of a woman who did not look like a nurse, he made a movement to try to help her to set down her burden. His eyes, wild no longer, but filled with surprise and doubt, followed Elinor behind the curtain, where she was attempting to conceal herself. "Is it a dream?" he said, speaking with difficulty. "I seem to have seen that face before. Ah, madame, am I to believe--" "He has recognized me," she said to herself in a fright and blushing crimson. "Once, I think, at Mme. de B.'s house, but once is sufficient. One could never forget you," and his large languid eyes were still riveted on her. "Be quiet! Be quiet! No more talking. You are ordered the strictest silence. Keep still, and do not even think. Hope and sleep." The doctor arrived shortly. He declared that the long sleep had done the patient a world of good, that the fever had gone down, and if the temperature now remained steady through the coming night he might be considered to be saved. Elinor listened, holding her breath, and drinking in the reassuring words. Her joy, too great to be repressed, brought back a charming color to her pale, wet cheeks. When night fell she insisted on taking her place in a corner of Léon's room, to await the dreaded attack of fever. It did not come, however, and the night proved a good one. The following day the doctor announced that there was no longer any danger, but he thought it his duty to warm Mme. de Roselis that convalescence would probably be slow, and that it would be dangerous to move the patient until the wound was thoroughly healed.