When he came to himself again, Fandor found he was lying in one of the comfortable leather arm-chairs in Juve's study. His temples and the lobes of his ears were being bathed with some refreshing liquid: the commingled scent of ether and eau-de-Cologne was in the air. When he opened his eyes, it was with difficulty that he could credit the sight that met them! Juve, his dear Juve, was bending over him, gazing at him tenderly, watching his return to consciousness with some anxiety. Fandor vainly strove to rise: he felt dazed. "Fandor!" murmured Juve, in a voice trembling with emotion. "Fandor, my little Fandor. My lad, my own dear lad!" Oh, yes, this was Juve, his own Juve, whom Fandor saw before him!... He had aged a little, this dear Juve of his--had gone slightly grey at the temples: there were some fresh lines on his forehead, at the corners of his mouth, too; but it was the Juve of old times, for all that!... Juve, alert, souple, robust, Juve in his full vigour, in the prime of life! Oh, a living, breathing, fatherly Juve: his respected master and most intimate friend--restored to him, after mourning the irreparable loss of him and his incomprehensible disappearance! While Fandor slowly came to himself, Juve had lessened the disordered state of his appearance; he had taken off his workman's clothes, and also the red beard which he had worn, when he ran up against the journalist in the place de l'Opera. As soon as Fandor was himself again, not only did he feel intense joy, a quite wild joy, but he also knew the good of a keen curiosity. Now he would know why the detective had felt obliged to disappear, officially at any rate, from Paris life for so long a period. Protestations of faithful attachment, or unalterable affection poured from Fandor's excited lips, intermingled with questions: he wanted to know everything at once. Juve smiled in silence, and gazed most affectionately at his dear lad. At last he said: "I am not going to ask you for your news, Fandor, for I have seen you repeatedly, and I know you are quite all right.... Why, I do believe you have put on flesh a little!" Juve was smiling that enigmatic smile of his. Fandor grew impatient, on fire with curiosity. Ah, this was indeed the Juve of bygone days, imperturbable, ironical, rather exasperating also! However, Juve took pity on Fandor, who was still under the influence of the shock he had received. "Well, now, dear lad, did you recognise me, a while ago?" Fandor pulled himself together. "To tell you the truth, Juve, I did not ... but, when our glances met, I had an intuition, a kind of interior revelation of what I had to do, and without any beating about the bush--I knew I had to follow you, follow you wherever you went." Juve nodded his approval.