The youth saw nothing. He had gone downstairs
three steps at a time, and was in the
vehicle and angry with impatience long
before the man of science bustled out,
thinking that he had been extraordinarily
energetic, and wondering how much more
decision of character was required to make
a general of division or an emperor.

"Now that we are in full march," quoth
he, as the driver was endeavouring to make
his drenched hacks step out briskly, "I
should like to know something of the case;
not the particular symptoms, but the general
facts. What is your mother's age?"

The youth replied that she was about
forty, and had been ill some time. Her
family had supposed, however, until then,
that her disease was rather mental than
physical. He said other things; but the
doctor felt certain that there was something
behind which shame had concealed.

The vehicle continued to roll; but it had
left the Rue de Sèvres, and was threading
some of the sombre streets between that and
the Rue de Varennes.

"You came a long way to look for me,"
said the physician, half enquiringly.

The youth muttered some answer that was
unintelligible, and was saved from further
questioning by the stopping of the cabriolet.
On getting out, the doctor recognised the
house as one of the largest private hotels in
that quarter. He had often passed by, and
thought it was uninhabited. The porte
cochère was opened by an elderly serving-man.
who looked sad and sorrowful.

"She is not yet—" exclaimed the youth,
not daring to utter the word of the omen.

"No, no! but she has begun to talk
reasonably."

"Be frank," whispered Doctor Dubois, as
they crossed the court under the hastily opened
umbrella. "Has your mother's mind been
affected? It is necessary that I should know
this."

"Yes—in one particular—in one particular
only. I will explain all; but—it is very
humiliating."

"Medical men are confessors," said the
Doctor, sententiously.

"Well, you shall know everything; but
first let me entreat you to come in and see
my poor mother, and tell us whether there is
any immediate danger. I think—yes, I am
sure, that if we can prolong her life but just
a little—health will return; and we shall
have her with us for many happy years."

"Let us hope so," Doctor Dubois ejaculated,
as, after stamping his feet and shaking his hat
muffler and coat and depositing his umbrella,
he crossed a scarcely furnished hall, and
entered at once upon a large apartment on
the ground-floor, preceded by his guide.

The inmates of the room were two, beside
the sick person, who lay in a bed at the
further extremity. There was first an old
man—a very old man—sitting in a chair,
with his knees advanced towards the
remnant of a fire, which he was watching
intently with lack-lustre eye. His garments
were scanty and threadbare, but it was not
difficult for a practised eye to see that he had
formerly lived amidst wealth and ease. He
rose when the doctor entered, made a graceful
bow, and then sank back into his chair as if
exhausted with fatigue.

A girl of about seventeen sat by the
bedside of the sick person, in whose hand her
hand was clasped. She was evidently the
sister of the youth who had disturbed Doctor
Dubois from his comfortable dessert. The
invalid was deadly pale and fearfully thin;
but traces both of beauty and intelligence
remained on her countenance. At least so
thought the doctor, whilst at the same time
he was detaching as it were from those sickly
features the expression which formed their
chief characteristic, and which indicated to
him the state of her mind. Combining what
he had already heard with what he saw, he
easily came to the conclusion that one at
least of the mental faculties of his new
patient was in abeyance. He sat down in a
chair which the youth had placed for him,
felt the lady's pulse, put on his usual wise
look, and after having received answers to a
variety of questions, seemed to fill the apartment
with life and joy by announcing that
there was no immediate danger. The old
man near the fire-place, who had been looking
eagerly over his shoulder, clasped his hands,
and cast up a rapid glance to heaven. The
servant, who still remained in the room,
muttered a prayer of thanksgiving; and the
two young people absolutely sprang into
each other's arms, embracing, laughing, and
crying. The person who seemed least
interested in this good news was the sick lady
herself.

"What is the matter?" she enquired at
length, in a tone of mingled tenderness and
pride. "Why are you so pleased with what
this good man says? You will make me
believe I have really been in danger. But
this cannot be; or else the Duchess of
Noailles would have come to see me, and the
Countess of Malmont, and the dowager of
Montsorrel. They would not let me be in
danger of dying without paying me one visit.
By the way, what cards have been left
today, Valerie?"

These words, most of which were rather
murmured than spoken, were greedily caught
by the observant doctor, who began dimly to
perceive the true state of the case. He
received further enlightenment from the answer
of Valerie; who, glancing furtively at him
and becoming very red, recited at random a
list of names; some of them belonging to
persons whom he knew to be in the country
or dead.

"I wish to write a prescription," said
Doctor Dubois.

"Will you step this way?" replied the