“The one who received a superior education in a fashionable convent?”
“Exactly; and I asked her what she would think of a young doctor, full of talent, future professor of the Faculty, actually considered already a savant of the first order, handsome—because you are handsome, my dear sir, and it is no flattery to say this—in good health, a peasant by birth, who presented himself as a husband. She appeared flattered, I tell you frankly. But immediately afterward she said, ‘And the child?’ To which I replied that you were too good, too noble, too generous, not to have the indulgence of superior men, who accept an involuntary fault with serenity. Did I go too far?”
He did not wait for an answer.
“No?” he went on. “Exactly. The child was present, for the mother watches over it with a solicitude that promises much for the future, and I examined it leisurely. It is very delicate, my dear sir, and like its father. The poor baby! I doubt if you, with all your skill, can make it live. If it should die, as it is to be feared it will, it would not injure your reputation. You can give it care, but not life.”
“Speaking of health,” interrupted Saniel, who did not wish to reply, “did you do what I advised about yourself?”
“Not yet. The chemists of this quarter are only licensed cutthroats; but I am going this evening to see one of my clients who is a chemist, and he will deal honestly with me.”
“I will see you again, then.”
“When you wish, my dear sir; when you have reflected. You have the password.”
Before leaving home Saniel gave his key to the concierge, so that on her arrival Phillis might go immediately to his rooms. On his return the concierge told him that “madame” was up-stairs, and when he rang the bell, Phillis opened the door.
“Well?” she asked in a trembling voice, before he had time to enter.