"You can see for yourself, monsieur!" the Galician replied. "A stroke!... He fell in the street. My own physician, Doctor Chesnard, has just been here and suggests that it is an embolism. He is coming again to-night. Cyprien had gambled in mining stock and lost enormous sums." He added more details. The master interrupted him with distressed exclamations. "Is it possible!... Had I but known!... Oh! poor fellow!... poor fellow!... Why did he hide it from me?" When Schleifmann had told him all, there were a few minutes of mutual embarrassment. The two men had at no time felt any affinity for each other. Schleifmann considered M. Raindal a narrow-minded man, timorous and dried up with erudition. He did not deny the merit of the master's works but reproached him with keeping out of the great contemporary problems. M. Raindal, on the other hand, had always disliked Schleifmann, whom he charged with stimulating the subversive instincts of his brother. Now, compelled to sympathize over a pious duty, they both would have liked to destroy those ancient grievances which their loyalty blushed to keep back. M. Raindal was the first to be emboldened enough to fib. He spoke most cordially. "M. Schleifmann! Circumstances have been such that we have not become fast friends.... But I knew your affection for my poor Cyprien; I knew the wide range of your culture, the reliability of your character; you may be sure that I have always felt the most earnest esteem for you." The Galician replied with tactful praise of M. Raindal's books. The discomfort disappeared. It vanished altogether when the concierge came back with drugs, mustard plasters and leeches. Both busied themselves nursing the patient; they had no leisure until the evening. At the approach of night, Uncle Cyprien awoke from his torpor. He opened his eyes and looked absently about the room. Gradually he appeared to remember. "Ah, yes!" he murmured. "The Bourse! The smash!" He tried to stretch himself. A resistance on his left side caused him to frown. He felt his left shoulder with his right hand, which remained free. "Ah! I am paralyzed, somewhere there.... That's nice!" he grunted. Again he inspected the room with the same infant-like stare of his mobile, toneless eyes. The presence of Schleifmann and his brother, who were watching him at the foot of the bed, caused him a momentary perplexity. Who were those men? He hesitated, having the impression that he knew them without being able to call them by name. "Eusèbe ..." he uttered at last. "Sch ... Schleifmann!" M. Raindal went forward, stretching out his hand. Uncle Cyprien smiled sadly and said in a hoarse voice, stammering a little: "Heh! What a state they have put me in, these fellows!... I fell on the pavement.... Did Schleifmann explain to you?" "Yes, my dear, fellow! Don't get yourself tired!"