By good fortune, he found him at home, as it was quite early; and, while explaining the pressing case that brought him, spied the doctor's wagon under the shed, and quickly harnessed to it the horse which he had ridden, so that, in less time than it takes to say it, doctor, wagon, horse, and Jean-Louis were on the way to Muiceron, and reached there before any one else had thought that, before such great lamentation, no matter what was the trouble, it would have been better to have run promptly for assistance.
And here you will excuse me if I add, by way of advice, that presence of mind, which is not counted among the virtues, is one nevertheless, and not at all to be disdained in the life of this world; and, therefore, I beg of you always to keep a good share in reserve, for I do not doubt you may soon find use for it, if not to-day, perhaps to-morrow, and you will always do well to remember what I say.
XIII.
The doctor, on seeing the room of the patient filled with people lamenting from useless tenderness of heart, instead of doing something for her relief, began by being very angry. He was a good man, rather rough and coarse in manner, but skilful in his profession, and understood perfectly how to manage peasants, for he had always practised in the country, and was himself of the upper class of villagers.
"What is such a lot of noisy, lazy bawlers doing around a sick girl, who needs air and quiet?" he cried. "Get out of here, the whole of you, and don't one dare come within ten yards. You, Ragaud, can stay if you choose, but keep as quiet as you are now, and don't look as if you were more dead than alive, with your miserable face a foot long; you, Mme. Ragaud, stop hugging your daughter. Let her go; don't you see you are smothering her? And above all, don't be dropping your tears on her face; she don't know you. Jean-Louis, don't stir from here; you are reasonable and courageous, and will be useful to me. And now open the window, and let out this smell of the stables brought by those abominable cow-herds, who ought to have been driven out with a pitchfork. Good. Now tell me what has happened to this child."
All being thus quieted, and the room purified by the fresh morning air, which came freely in through the open window, a slight change for the better was soon seen in Jeannette. She let them lay her head on the pillow, and, although she was still insensible, her pretty face, crimson and swollen with the fever, looked less excited. The doctor counted her pulse while he listened to the night's adventure, which was correctly related by Jean-Louis, as neither the father nor mother could have put two ideas together at that particular moment.
"Just as I thought," said the doctor; "a violent fever brought on by exposure to the cold, and wet feet. All the danger is in the head, and I do not deny that it is very great. The child has a cerebral fever; do you understand? Cerebral means of the brain. Now the brain is the inside of the head; so the sickness is there, under this beautiful blonde hair, which you must instantly cut off. I hope, Mme. Ragaud, you will not hesitate to sacrifice your daughter's hair to save her life?"
"O my God!" cried poor Pierrette, sobbing. "Do what you please, my dear doctor; if it would be of any use to cut off one of my arms, I would willingly allow it."
"Yes, my good woman, but that would not help you much, and her not at all; so keep your arms, we will need them for something else. Come, we must relieve her. Jump in the wagon, Jeannet, and go to the château, and tell them to send me some ice, mustard, and other things that I will write on this slip of paper; and remember to tell mademoiselle not to be uneasy, and not to put her foot in this house short of a week. While waiting for the return of Jean-Louis, Mme. Ragaud, draw a bucket of water from the well, and bring it to me immediately."
Poor Pierrette obeyed without saying a word, which was very beautiful in her; for hearing it announced that her daughter was ill from cold, the words ice and well-water confused her terribly. She had already been horrified when commanded to open the window. Indeed, Dr. Aubry was no fool, as had been well proved for twenty years; and the best way was to think that he knew what he was about, no matter how unreasonable his words might sound.