Convinced that though this compliance would do no harm it could do no good, Madame Cardinal poured out half a glass, and while she gave it with one hand to the sick man, with the other she raised him to a sitting posture that he might drink it.
With his fleshless, eager fingers Toupillier clutched the glass, emptied it at a gulp, and exclaimed:—
“Ah! that’s a fine drop, that is! though you’ve watered it.”
“You mustn’t say that, uncle; I went and bought it myself of Pere Legrelu, and I’ve given it you quite pure. But you let me simmer the rest; the doctor said I might then give you all you wanted.”
Toupillier resigned himself with a shrug of the shoulders. At the end of fifteen minutes, the infusion being in condition to serve, Madame Cardinal brought him, without further appeal, a full cup of it.
The avidity with which the old pauper drank it down prevented him from noticing at first that the wine was drugged; but as he swallowed the last drops he tasted the sickly and nauseating flavor, and flinging the cup on the bed he cried out that some one was trying to poison him.
“Poison! nonsense!” said the fishwife, pouring into her own mouth a few drops of that which remained in the bottle, declaring to the old man that if the wine did not seem to him the same as usual, it was because his mouth had a “bad taste to it.”
Before the end of the dispute, which lasted some time, the narcotic began to take effect, and at the end of an hour the sick man was sound asleep.
While idly waiting for Cerizet, an idea took possession of the Cardinal’s mind. She thought that in view of their comings and goings with the treasure, it would be well if the vigilance of the Perrache husband and wife could be dulled in some manner. Consequently, after carefully flinging the refuse poppy-heads into the privy, she called to the portress:—
“Madame Perrache, come up and taste his wine. Wouldn’t you have thought to hear him talk he was ready to drink a cask of it? Well, a cupful satisfied him.”