‘It cured me,’ said Panurge, ‘after I had swallowed, at my master’s orders, a quantity of the St. Nicholas manna enough to kill a horse.’
‘But an ass is a different animal, Panurge,’ said Philippe, as he took up his hat and left the shop.
The humble assistant did not dare to retort, but seeing the Gascon laughing at him, when Philippe had gone, he aimed a blow at him with a bleeding-staff, which would have hurt Blacquart sorely had he not dived down and avoided it. As it was, the staff descended on the counter and broke a bottle, for which he was severely chidden by his master.
In the meantime Philippe Glazer, leaving his father’s, crossed the river by the Petit Pont and took his way towards Notre Dame. The doors of the cathedral were still open, and he entered the southern aisle, now dimly lighted by a few votive tapers, which were flaring and guttering upon their rude iron stands in the currents of air that swept through the interior. A man, who was evidently waiting to meet him, emerged from the shadow of one of the pillars as he advanced.
‘M. de Sainte-Croix!’
‘Philippe Glazer!’
‘We are truly met,’ said the student. ‘I received your note this evening, and you can come to the hospital with me.’
‘You are obliging me,’ said Gaudin; ‘I am anxious respecting the health of an old servant of mine, now an inmate.’
‘Pshaw! Captain Gaudin,’ replied Philippe, ‘between the Gens de la Courte Epée there should be no secrets. It is a matter of gallantry, or I am mistaken; we are freemasons, you know, of a certain sort, and may trust each other.’
Gaudin laughed and made an evasive reply, as he took Philippe’s arm; and the two, crossing the square before Notre Dame, entered the Hôtel Dieu. As they passed the lodge, the porter, recognising Philippe, gave him a note which had been left for the gentleman who was expected to accompany him. Gaudin knew the writing, and hastily opened it. Its contents were as follows:—