Jean-Louis performed his errand with his usual promptitude; he brought back what was needed for the first applications. During his absence, the doctor had constantly applied bandages, soaked in very cold water, to Jeannette's head; but that was not effective enough, and, as soon as the ice was brought from the château, he prepared to use it. It was the moment to accomplish the sacrifice of Jeannette's beautiful hair, which was still dressed as for the previous night's dance. To tell the truth, the thick, heavy braids were enough to weigh down the poor sick head. Pierrette showed great courage; she only cared for the relief of her child. As for the doctor, he thought no more of cutting off this splendid hair than of pulling up a bunch of nettle out of the flower-beds in his garden.
Ragaud sat as though nailed to his chair, and seemed neither to hear nor see anything passing around him. You would have pitied the poor old man. But our Jeannet, so brave until then, could not look on indifferently at the murderous play of the scissors around that dear head, which would so soon be shorn of its crowning beauty. As the doctor cut off a tress and threw it on the floor, as if it were a noxious weed, he picked it up and smoothed it with his hand, as though to repay by caresses the condemnation it had received. Thus he soon had all the fair hair in his hands; and then, as he thought that soon—too soon, perhaps—it might be the only living vestige of Jeannette, his courage vanished; he sank on a chair near the window, hid his face in the mass of hair, that was still warm, and sobbed as though his heart would break....
This touched Dr. Aubry, who was kind-hearted under his rough exterior. He never talked sentiment, being too much accustomed to tears and lamentations around sick-beds; but he loved Jeannet, and thought him more refined and superior in tone to the surrounding boys. So he approached the poor child, and, tapping him on the shoulder, he said by way of consolation: "Bah! you big ninny, that will improve her hair; in one year it will be handsomer and thicker than ever, and you will have enough of this to make a hundred yards of watch-chain."
"In one year!" cried Jean-Louis, who only heard this word of all the fine consolation. "Then you don't think she will die?"
"What are you talking about? Die? A beautiful young girl of seventeen, who has always been healthy and good, don't die from having got her feet soaked on a stormy night. Be reasonable, follow my orders, keep everything around quiet and fresh, don't fatigue her with words and embraces when she recovers her senses, and, with the help of God, I will answer for her."
"Oh!" said Jean-Louis, throwing his arms around the doctor's neck, "may Heaven listen to you, M. Aubry!"
These cheering words brought old Ragaud back to life; big tears rolled from his dry, fixed eyes, and relieved him greatly. Pierrette fell on her knees by the bedside; for, before thanking the doctor, it was right to raise her heart to God, who saw further still than he.
M. Aubry again repeated his orders, which he always did—oftener six times than once with his village patients; for it must be acknowledged we are very stupid about nursing, and, outside of the common remedies, which are purgatives, emetics, and quinine to break the fever, all the rest of the medical gibberish appears to us very strange, and often rather contrary to good sense. That is the reason those who are cured burn a candle to S. Sylvain. But for his kind protection, there would be as many deaths as sick people; and if you find fault with that expression, I will tell you that I am very sorry for it, but that is the way we talk, and I cannot express myself differently or more delicately than I was taught.
The doctor drove off in his wagon, to which the farm-horse was still harnessed, and he had the privilege of keeping it several days, which was a great convenience to him, as his own beast was out at pasture. He took care to pass by Val-Saint, where he found mademoiselle very anxious and sad about her god-daughter's accident. As soon as she heard it was a serious illness, she rushed to the bell, crying that she must have the carriage immediately to go to her darling; but M. Aubry, who had his own way with every one, caught her by the arm.
"I beg your pardon," said he; "but you are not going there at all."