"Sir," I finally said, "will you kindly inform me if what you told me yesterday was the truth, or was there some motive behind it? Moreover, as there is not a physician in the neighborhood who can be called, in case of necessity, it is important that I should know whether her condition is serious."
He protested that Madame Pierson was ill, but that he knew nothing more, except that she had sent for him and asked him to notify me as he had done. While talking, we had walked down the road some distance and had now reached a deserted spot. Seeing that neither strategy nor entreaty would serve my purpose, I suddenly turned and seized him by the arms.
"What does this mean, sir? You intend to resort to violence?" he cried.
"No, but I intend to make you tell me what you know."
"Sir, I am afraid of no one, and I have told you what you ought to know."
"You have told me what you think I ought to know, but not what you know.
Madame Pierson is not sick, I am sure of it."
"How do you know?"
"The servant told me so. Why has she closed her door against me, and why did she send you to tell me of it?"
Mercanson saw a peasant passing.
"Pierre!" he cried, calling him by name, "wait a moment, I wish to speak with you."