"What is it, my boy, you have to say to me?" inquired the old man, kindly.
"Ah, my kind sir, I only wanted to say that my father is frequently seized during the night with most violent convulsion-fits, which require a much stronger person than I am to hold him; should I be obliged to call for help, is there any person near who could hear me?"
"Poor child!" said the labourer, sympathisingly; "make yourself easy. There,—do you see that door beside the staircase?"
"Oh, yes, good, kind gentleman; I see it."
"Well, one of the farm labourers sleeps in that room. You will only just have to run to him. He never locks his door; and he will come to your father in an instant."
"Thank you, sir; God bless you! I will remember all your kindness when I say my prayers. But suppose, sir, the man and myself were not strong enough together to manage my poor father when these violent convulsions come on, could you, who look so good, and speak so kind—could you be kind enough to come and tell us what to do?"
"Me, my boy? Oh, I sleep, as well as all the other men servants, out of the house, in a large outbuilding in the courtyard. But make yourself quite comfortable. Jean René could manage a mad bull, he is so powerful. Besides, if you really wished any further help he would go and call up our old cook; she sleeps on the first floor, even with our mistress and young mademoiselle, and I can promise you that our old woman is a most excellent sick-nurse should your father require any one to attend to him when the fit is over."
"Thank you, kind gentleman, a thousand times. Good-night, sir. I will go now and pray of God to bless you for your kindness and pity to the poor blind."
"Good night, my lad! Let us hope both you and your father will enjoy a sound night's rest, and have no occasion to require any person's help. You had better return to your room now; your poor father may be wanting you."
"I will, sir. Good night, and thank you!"