Then, kneeling down by Frederick, he put his hand upon the poor boy's heart. It was not beating, his extremities were stiff and cold, his lips blue and convulsively closed, nor did one breath escape from them. David, terrified, lifted the half-closed eyelid of the youth: his eye was immovable, dull and glassy. The rain continued to flow in torrents over this inanimate body. David could no longer restrain his sobs. Alone, on this solitary shore, with no help near, when help was so much needed,--powerful and immediate help, even if one spark of life still remained in the body before him! David was looking around him, in desperate need, when at a little distance he saw a thick column of smoke rising from behind a projecting angle of the embankment, which, no doubt, hid some inhabited house from his sight. To carry Frederick in his arms, and, in spite of his heavy burden, to run to this hidden habitation, was David's spontaneous act. When he had passed this angle, he perceived at a little distance one of the brick-kilns so numerous on the borders of the Loire, as brickmakers find in this latitude all the necessary materials of clay, sand, water, and wood. Making use of his reminiscences of travel, David recalled the fact that the Indians inhabiting the borders of the great lakes, often restore their half-drowned companions to life, and awaken heat and circulation of the blood, by means of large stones which are made hot,--a sort of drying-place, upon which they place the body while they rub the limbs with spirits. The brickmakers came eagerly to David's assistance. Frederick, enveloped in a thick covering, was extended on a bed of warm bricks, and exposed to the penetrating heat which issued from the mouth of the oven. A bottle of brandy, offered by the head workman, was used in rubbing. For some time David doubted the success of his efforts. Nevertheless some little symptoms of sensibility made his heart bound with hope and joy. * * * * * An hour after having been carried to the brick-kiln, Frederick, completely restored, was still so feeble, notwithstanding his consciousness, that he was not able to utter a word, although many times he looked at David with an expression of tenderness and unspeakable gratitude. The preceptor and his pupil were in the modest chamber of the master workman, who had returned to his work near the embankment, and with his labourers was observing the level of the stream, which had not reached such a height in many years, for the inhabitants of these shores were always filled with fear at the thought of an overflow of the Loire. David had just administered a warm and invigorating drink to Frederick, when the youth said, in a feeble voice: "M. David, it is to you that I shall owe the happiness of seeing my mother again!"