"It's not for us to say," replied Madame Doulce. "What do we know about it?"
"No," said Nanteuil, "he was not in full possession of his faculties."
Pradel shrugged his shoulders.
"After all, it's possible. Insanity and reason, it's a matter of appreciation. To whom could we apply for a certificate?"
Madame Doulce and Pradel called to mind three physicians in succession; but they were unable to find the address of the first; the second was bad-tempered, and it was decided that the third was dead.
Nanteuil suggested that they should approach Dr. Trublet.
"That's an idea!" exclaimed Pradel. "Let us ask a certificate of Dr. Socrates. What's to-day? Friday. It's his day for consultations. We shall find him at home."
Dr. Trublet lived in an old house at the top of the Rue de Seine. Pradel took Nanteuil with him, with the idea that Socrates would refuse nothing to a pretty woman. Constantin Marc, who could not live, when in Paris, save in the company of theatrical folk, accompanied them. The Chevalier affair was beginning to amuse him. He found it theatrical, that is, appropriate to theatrical performers. Although the hour for consultations was over, the doctor's sitting-room was still full of people in search of healing. Trublet dismissed them, and received his theatrical friends in his private room. He was standing in front of a table encumbered with books and papers. An adjustable arm-chair, infirm and cynical, displayed itself by the window. The director of the Odéon set forth the object of his call, and ended by saying:
"Chevalier's funeral service cannot be celebrated in the church unless you certify that the unfortunate young man was not altogether sane."