"I am the mother of Count Tristan de Gramont whom you are attending."
Dr. Bayard bowed.
"I hear that he is much better."
"Much better," was the physician's laconic reply.
"It would no longer be dangerous for him to be removed from his present most unfit abode," the countess asserted rather than interrogated.
Dr. Bayard, in answering the queries of patients, or those of their families, did not follow the practice of physicians in general, but adhered to the exact truth. He replied, "It would not be dangerous, madame, but it would be unwise,—confounded folly, I might say. He is very comfortable where he is, and he has capital care. I do not believe there is such another nurse as Mademoiselle Melanie in Christendom."
If fiery arrows ever flash from human eyes, as some who have felt their wound declare they do, such darts flew fast and thick from the eyes of the countess as she regarded him.
"Sir, it is not a question of nurses. A mother is the fittest person to watch beside her son."
Dr. Bayard differed with her, but did not give her the benefit of his private opinion.