Auguste said no more; he simply sighed as he took Virginie’s hands in his; and she pretended to be more lighthearted than ever, and sang all day to prove that she did not regret her shawl.
The doctor came to see his patient; he found him much better, and complimented Virginie on her nursing. She, although she had no idea how she was going to pay him, asked him to tell her how much she owed him. But the doctor replied that he never charged anything when he went higher than the fourth floor; and he ran away from the thanks of Auguste and Virginie, enjoining anew upon the convalescent to be careful and to wait until his strength had returned before going out.
“There’s a mighty fine man!” cried Virginie, looking after the doctor. “He isn’t handsome; certainly no one can say he’s handsome; in fact, one eye’s smaller than the other. But for all that he’s been a little Cupid in my eyes ever since I saw what zeal he showed in his care of you.”
Auguste smiled; Virginie’s remarks often made his eyes sparkle; but when he thought of his plight, his brow darkened and he sighed, despite all the efforts of his nurse, who said to him constantly:
“You didn’t use to sigh like that when you made love to me.”
Auguste was anxious to get up and go out, but he was not strong enough; and yet Virginie gave him everything that the doctor ordered. But his convalescence seemed certain to be very slow, and although she told Auguste every day that he must not worry, that she had money enough to last a long while, Virginie discovered one morning that she had nothing left of the proceeds of the sale of her shawl.
But the doctor, who had called on the evening before, had said that Auguste could eat chicken, and Virginie, after searching her boxes, her drawers and her purse, where she found nothing, muttered under her breath:
“It’s no use for me to look; there’s nothing to raise money on—not even enough to buy a lark; and my work won’t be done till day after to-morrow! No matter! if I have to put myself in pawn, he shall eat chicken to-day!”
And Virginie put on her cap and the little neckerchief which had replaced her shawl; then, leaving Auguste still asleep, she stole softly from her room, saying to herself:
“I won’t come back without a chicken.”