An hour later, delirium took possession of Uncle Cyprien. At first, there were nothing but vague exclamations, inarticulate complaints. But they soon became more precise. He named people, insulted certain enemies, all the immemorial enemies of Uncle Cyprien, the whole troop of grafters, _youpins_, _calotins_ and _rastas_! It was as if they were dancing with triumphant laughter a Satanic round about his cot, breaking his chest with heavy boots, at times, for he took on attitudes of defense or of fear as if he were under the iron shoes of a horse. To exercise this evil rout, he tired his lungs with words of abuse, with insults taken from the vocabulary of his favorite author. His forefinger threatened; his fist hammered the empty space. Suddenly, it seemed that the saraband was scattered. By a chance turn of his memory, one preponderating image effaced the malice of the others: the image of an illustrious statesman, of a minister renowned for his fight against Boulangism. That legendary figure appeared before the bed and, without bending, it reached Uncle Cyprien with the hands that completed its enormous arms. "Oh! Oh!..." M. Raindal, the younger, roared out in terror. "Here is the old Pirate now!... Oh! those arms!... What arms he has!... Will you go away, old Pirate! Will you let go of me!" The imaginary grasp was stronger than his cries. In vain he put his hands to his throat. He was choking. He fell back in a coma. He stayed in it all the evening, all night. The family waited in the next room and took turns watching the patient with Schleifmann, Boerzell and a medical student sent by Dr. Gombauld. At eleven, when the women and Schleifmann had fallen asleep on couches and chairs, M. Raindal signaled with his eyes for the young savant to come to him. "My dear M. Boerzell," the master whispered softly, "Thérèse has told me everything this afternoon.... It seems that, while at Langrune, you came to an agreement. For my part, I am very glad of it.... But you know what disaster has befallen us.... Without speaking of poor Cyprien, it is complete ruin for us, and Thérèse will have neither dowry nor expectations of any kind. I wanted formally to warn you, knowing by experience what are the expenses of a _ménage_, ... children to be brought up, expenses...." "I am very much obliged to you for your sincerity, dear master!" Boerzell interrupted him, in the same tone. "However, these sad events have not modified my intentions towards Mlle. Thérèse...."