"I was afraid that master would have an attack; he has been beside himself all the morning. Ah, there he is moving his eyes a little. His hands are not so cold. Across the park there came a cry of "Long live the Prefect!" It entered the drawing-room wafted on the warm breeze, where such words had never been heard before. M. Philippe Oberlé did not seem to hear them. But after some minutes he made a sign that he wished to be taken to his room. Some one came up the steps quickly, and before coming in asked: "What, again! What are those cries? Ah! my father!" He changed his tone and said: "I thought it was you, Monica--that you had a nervous attack. But then who screamed like that?" "He!" "He?" said M. Oberlé; "that is not possible!" He did not dare to ask the question again. His father, now standing, supported by Jean and by his servant, trembling and wavering, moved across the room. "Jean," said Madame Oberlé, "see to everything. Do not leave your grandfather; I am coming up." Her husband had kept her back. She wished to get Jean away from this. As soon as she was alone with M. Oberlé on the staircase they heard the noise of footsteps and the rustling of materials, and voices saying: "Hold him up--take care in turning." "What did he call out?" asked M. Oberlé. "He called out: 'Go away! Go away!' Those are words that he often uses, you know." "The only ones he had at his disposal to show his hatred. Did he say nothing else?" "No. I came down at once and I found him on the floor. Jean was near him." "Happily M. von Kassewitz did not witness this second act. The first was enough. In truth, the whole household was leagued together to make this visit--such an honour for us--an occasion of offence and scandal: my father; Victor, who was not ashamed to be an accomplice of the delirious old man; Jean, who was impertinent; you----" "I did not think you could have had to complain of me!" "Of you the very first! It is you who are the soul of this resistance, which I _will_ overcome. I shall overcome it! I answer for that." "My poor friend," she said, clasping her hands; "you are still set on that!" "Exactly." "You cannot overcome everything, alas!" "That is what we are going to see." Madame Oberlé did not answer and went upstairs quickly. A new anxiety, stronger than the fear of her husband's threats, tortured her now. "What did my father-in-law wish to say?" she asked herself. "The old man is not delirious. He remembers; he foresees; he watches over the house; he always thinks things out carefully. If only Jean did not understand it as I understand it!" At the top of the stairs she met her son, who was coming out of the grandfather's room. "Well?" "Nothing serious, I hope--he is better--he wishes to be alone." "And you?" questioned the mother, taking her son's hand, and leading him towards the room he used. "And you?" "How? I?"