"Madame Georges is in the chamber of Mlle. Marie, who found herself somewhat indisposed on her return from escorting M. le Curé to the rectory," replied Claudine, the girl who had conducted La Goualeuse back from the rectory, and thus unconsciously frustrated the evil designs of the Chouette.
"I trust Mlle. Marie is only indisposed, not seriously ill, is she, Claudine?" inquired the old man, with almost paternal anxiety.
"Oh, dear, no, Father Châtelain! God forbid! I hope and believe our dear mademoiselle is only just a little struck with the cold of the night, and her walk perhaps fatigued her. I trust she will be quite well by to-morrow; indeed Madame Georges told me as much, and said that, if she had had any fears, she should have sent to Paris for M. David, the negro doctor, who took such care of mademoiselle when she was so ill. Well, I cannot make out how any one can endure a black doctor! For my part I should not have the slightest confidence in anything he said or did. No, no! if one must have a doctor, let it be a Christian man with a white skin; but a downright blackamoor! O saints above! why, the very sight of him by my bedside would kill me!"
"But did not this Monsieur David cure Mlle. Marie from the long illness with which she suffered when she first came here?" inquired the old man.
"Yes, Father Châtelain, he certainly did."
"Well?"
"Ah! but for all that, Father Châtelain, a doctor with a black face is enough to terrify any one—I should scream myself into fits if he were to come rolling up the great whites of his eyes at me."
"But is not this M. David the same person who cured Dame Anica of that dreadful wound in her leg, which had confined her to her bed for upwards of three years?"
"Yes, exactly so, Father Châtelain; he certainly did set old Dame Anica up again."
"Well, then, my child?"