When dinner was over he went to his room, and when his mother, who had gone again and again to listen at his door, finally decided to enter his chamber, she found him lying upon the bed, muttering incoherently.
She approached him.

He did not appear to recognize or even to see her.
She spoke to him.

He did not seem to hear.

His face was scarlet, his lips were parched.

She took his hand; it was burning; and still he was shivering, and his teeth were chattering as if with cold.
A mist swam before the eyes of the poor woman; she feared she was about to faint; but, summoning all her strength, she conquered her weakness and, dragging herself to the staircase, she cried: "Help! help! My son is dying!" With a bound M.d'Escorval reached his son's chamber, looked at him and dashed out again, summoned a servant, and ordered him to gallop to Montaignac and bring a physician without a moment's delay.
There was, indeed, a doctor at Sairmeuse, but he was the most stupid of men--a former surgeon in the army, who had been dismissed for incompetency.