That shriek caused the invalid to open his eyes; he tried to give Virginie his hand, while she threw herself upon him, kissed him again and again, wiped the perspiration from his forehead, and the next moment drenched his face with her tears, crying:
“It is you, Auguste! it is really you! O mon Dieu! in this garret! on this wretched bed! My poor dear! sick, alone—and I didn’t know it! Poor Auguste! and I sang last night while he was groaning here! Oh! I feel as if I should choke! I can’t say any more.”
But at last Virginie realized that her tears and kisses were no longer sufficient for the invalid, who motioned that he was consumed by thirst.
“Wait—wait, my dear,” she said, “I’ll give you—Great God! there’s nothing here but water! Why, that’s no good—it increases the fever. I’ll go—the doctor must come right away; I’ll go and fetch him. I’m going. Don’t be impatient, my friend; I won’t be long; and after this you won’t be alone any more; I shan’t leave you again!”
Virginie ran to the door, returned to the bed, pulled the clothes over the sick man, arranged his head, then ran downstairs four at a time, and arrived at the concierge’s door all out of breath, saying:
“A doctor! where’s there a doctor?”
“Why, there’s several in the quarter. Is the gentleman sicker?”
“His address—quick!”
“A doctor’s address? There’s one on this street—yonder, next to the fruit store; then there’s the one that bled me; but——”
Virginie was no longer listening; she was already at the door the concierge had pointed out. She ran up to the doctor’s room and begged him to come instantly to see a sick man, in the tone that only women can assume when the object of their affection is involved. The doctor made no reply but took his hat, which was much better, and followed Virginie, who led the way to Auguste’s garret. He ascended the six flights almost as quickly as she did, and when he entered the room apparently saw nothing but the invalid. All honor to the men who devote their lives to relieving the ills of mankind, and who show the same zeal for the poor as for the rich. Their number is large, and although Molière did poke fun at the doctors, doubtless he would be the first to do them justice to-day.