In addition to this, a very real calamity was threatening to strike at that household with which we were closely connected. For some time past, Félix Deviolaine, who looked the very picture of health, had been troubled with a cough, and was losing flesh. He grew uneasy at the weakness he felt to be growing on him, and one day he sought me out and begged me to take him to Thibaut, whose medical skill he had often heard me praise. I hastened to do him this service, and took him to Thibaut, begging him to examine Félix very carefully. Thibaut made him strip to the waist, tapped his chest, listened to his breathing both with his ear and with the stethoscope; and, after ten minutes' examination, told him plainly that he was suffering from a serious lung complaint, although he was in no danger. But to me he whispered-- "The lad is doomed." I cannot describe the grief and dismay this curtly expressed declaration caused me. Félix had never been particularly friendly towards me; he was of a somewhat jealous disposition, and had rather repelled than drawn me in to share the enjoyments which, thanks to his father's social position, he could have obtained for me, especially with regard to shooting, which I loved above all else. But, nevertheless, his was one of the tender friendships of my early days, and if this prophecy were fulfilled it would be the first leaf that death would tear from the golden branch of my childish recollections. I did not want to announce this sad news to M. Deviolaine, so I sought out Oudard and told him what had transpired. Oudard utterly declined to believe it; for Félix had seemed, until now, the most unlikely subject to die of pulmonary consumption; but I sent for Thibaut himself, and Thibaut repeated to him the fatal verdict he had told me. Without telling the whole truth to M. Deviolaine, Oudard gave him to understand that Félix required great care, and, as Félix did not wish to have any other doctor than Thibaut, it was arranged that Thibaut should pay him daily visits. It was then that I made the special study of pulmonary consumption which I later turned to account in my romance, _Amaury._ I have already stated that, just as Thibaut's prediction was on the point of being realised, and all hopes were given up--even in his mother's heart, that last sanctuary of hope--Félix Deviolaine was miraculously saved by articular rheumatism, which drew off the inflammation, and did what no other remedies had been able to effect.