At length fatigue proved too much for him, and flinging himself down on his bed, he fell into a deep slumber. It was not until François brought the café au lait to his bedside next morning that Riche awoke. "By Jove!" he exclaimed, "it's ten o'clock." "Oui, monsieur," said François, "I came to call you three times, but you were so fast asleep that I did not have the heart to wake you." "And the others?" enquired Riche. "They are all fast asleep too." "I don't wonder after all we have gone through." "Ah! monsieur, it is terrible," said François, and he shook his head solemnly. "I have been in Doctor Villebois' service seventeen years now, and never have I spent a night so horrible as this one." "Yes, François. What Bossuet said in his great funeral oration will apply equally well here. 'O nuit désastreuse! O nuit effroyable! ou retentit tout-à-coup comme un éclat de tonnerre cette étonnante nouvelle. Monsieur est mort.'" "Ah, mon Dieu! Monsieur le professor was indeed a good man. He will go straight to heaven without any purgatory." "Are you sure that he will go to heaven?" asked Riche with a smile at the worthy man's earnestness. "Oh! I think so, I think so. You will pardon me for speaking so plainly, mon docteur, but there is a difficulty, yes, just a little difficulty. You see he never went to Mass, or even to church, but then he was so noble and so good to the poor, that he would be certain to go to Paradise. Of course the good God would be obliged to give him a little purgatory as a mere matter of form just to keep up appearances, but He would be sure to let him out at the end of an hour or two. Don't you think so, mon docteur?" "Let us hope so," said Riche fervently, but with a slight shrug of the shoulders, as François bowed and left the room. In a little while the servant returned with a message. "My master requests you to be good enough to come and see him as soon as possible," said François, as Riche was putting the finishing touches to his toilette. "Tell your master I will be with him in a few minutes." "Ah, my dear Riche," said Villebois, as the doctor entered the parlour, "I want you to come to Renée's room and hold a consultation with me. I fear the poor child has taken Delapine's death too much to heart. She appears to be heart-broken, and is making herself ill with sobbing. Anyone could see that she was fond of him, but I had no idea that she loved him to this degree. It is really very touching, n'est-ce pas?" They found poor Renée lying in bed, her face flushed with fever, and moaning as if in pain. Her maid had applied ice compresses to her head, and she barely noticed the doctors as they entered the room. At length Villebois persuaded her to sit up, and take a little nourishment. "By the way, mademoiselle, did Delapine ever give you any packets or letters to take care of for him?" said Riche.