A slight fog had again begun to fall, and the streets were steeped in icy dampness.
By the time it was nine o'clock Pierre realised that his brother would never be able to sleep if he were thus left without news.

Amidst his growing feverishness the injured man experienced keen anxiety, a haunting desire to know if Salvat were arrested and had spoken out.

He did not confess this; indeed he sought to convey the impression that he had no personal disquietude, which was doubtless true.

But his great secret was stifling him; he shuddered at the thought that his lofty scheme, all his labour and all his hope, should be at the mercy of that unhappy man whom want had filled with delusions and who had sought to set justice upon earth by the aid of a bomb.

And in vain did the priest try to make Guillaume understand that nothing certain could yet be known.