For myself, I felt once more at home.
Catherine dared no longer to venture to
undertake fatiguing walks, so I again resorted
to the companionship of my old friend
Lemaire.

"Did you ever see chloroform administered?"
he asked. "Because, if not, you can
see your old acquaintance, André Boisson
who came to market here a week ago, and,
as usual, got three-quarters drunk—under
its influence. In returning home to the
Folly, he fell into a ditch and dislocated his
thigh. I have tried once to reduce it, by
the help of chloroform, but only succeeded
imperfectly. I dared not do any more for fear
of killing him; not that I should deeply
regret the demise of such a worthy, but I do
not wish chloroform to suffer the discredit of
causing his death; I shall make a second and
last attempt this afternoon. I fear he is a
sad old villain, with more to answer for than
we suspect."

"What makes you think so?"

"You are aware," said Lemaire—we were
now crossing the fields—"that I usually make
use both of ether and chloroform. I begin
by causing the patient to inhale the
vapour of ether, and then finish with chloroform."

"Have you already treated André in this
way?"

"Yes. The result was very droll. The
effects upon different individuals vary much,
according to constitution and mental power.
The ether at first produces an intoxication
which excites the patient to the highest
degree. He laughs; his mind is filled with all
sorts of pleasant images; his bodily sensations
are indescribably delightful; he unbosoms
himself of his inmost secrets. However, in
the great majority of cases, the emotions which
the patient experiences are of an agreeable
character."

"A medical man, then, who etherises," I
observed, "had need be a prudent and
confidential person."

"He had indeed. Ether has been employed
to discover secrets."

"In what way is André affected by it?" I
asked.

"I have rarely seen a patient give way to
such an excess of hilarity. The talkative
phase lasted thrice as long with him as with
must other men. In such cases as soon as
the subject begins to chatter and prate, I
begin to shout and bawl as loud as I can, in
order to distract the attention of those who
are present and hide any chance indiscretion.
What does it matter to me—as a medical
man—who has committed, or dreams he has
committed, murder, adultery, or theft? I am
not there to hear their confessions and to give
them absolution. My business is to cure their
bodily ills. But André boasted of having
become rich in such a strange and dishonest
way, that I could not help listening, though I
believe I prevented others from hearing him.
I have great difficulty in stopping his tongue
and in getting him to fall off in the insensible
state." Here the doctor suddenly
slopped to beckon towards us two gensdarmes,
who were passing; "their strong arms," he
remarked, "will help me to get the thigh-
bone properly into its socket."

The men, on being applied to, obligingly
consented to lend their aid, if required, during
the operation, and we all walked to the Folly
in company. The woman Boisson started
when she saw me enter with Lemaire, and
turned deadly pale and trembled when the
two gensdarmes followed us. The doctor
explained the reason of the reinforcement,
and she appeared re-assured. Two powerful
labouring men were already there. They
accompanied Lemaire into the room where the
patient was,—the same in which his father
had died. In about ten minutes, Lemaire
half-opened the door, and said,

"Messieurs, you may come in now. You,
Madame Boisson, had better remain where
you are."

He shut the door again, and whispered to
me: "This time he's in a lugubrious fit. He
fancies he is going to the devil headlong. It
will be a long job."

We found the sick man lying on his back
on a thick wool mattress, in the middle of the
floor, holding a white pocket-handkerchief
with both his hands over his face, and weeping
bitterly.

"Oh! my God," he cried, ''they will not
send for the curé to confess me, and my soul
will remain in flames for ever! They will
not say masses for me, after I am dead, as I
made them do for my father, when I caused
him to die without absolution, by telling the
curé to go to Lefebvre first. But,—it would
have ruined us all if the curé had not arrived
too late; because—"

"Hold your tongue!" shouted Lemaire into
his ear. "Don't talk such nonsense, but go
to sleep as fast as you can. Do you feel
that?"

"Yes, yes; you are pricking my leg with a
pin. The pain is sharp; but it is nothing,—
nothing compared to the tortures I shall feel
in purgatory. Oh, this Folly! It has cost
me dear; it has cost me my soul."

"Have done! have done!" exclaimed
Lemaire impatiently. "Do you feel anything
now?"

"You prick me again. If Catherine had
lived to be the Englishman's mistress I would
save my soul at last by telling them to dig in
the floor of my hut;—yes, even if we were
all to die of starvation. I would tell them
where to find the plate, the parchments, and
the letters; God would pardon me, and
so, perhaps, would they. But alas, alas!
Poor Catherine Reynolds, the little English
baby—"

"I must put a stop to this," said
Lemaire, "or we shall do nothing to the
thigh."