“To M. Dufay.”
“By whom?”
“A military gentleman whom I do not know.”
“Of what does he write?”
“He is ill—he writes of his illness.”
“Can you name his illness?”
“Oh, yes; very well. It is like the old woodcutter’s of Mesland, who is not yet well.”
“I understand; it is dysentery. Now listen, Marie. It would give M. Dufay much pleasure if you would go and see his friend, the military gentleman, and find out how he is at present.”
“Oh, it is too far; it would be a long journey.”
“But we are waiting for you. Please go without losing time.”