three thousand; in case of
success, that sum will bring you in pretty nearly a hundred per cent.
That's my last word, and I shall not listen to any objections."

Cerizet had no time to make any, for at that moment the door of du
Portail's study opened abruptly, and a fair, slender woman, whose face
expressed angelic sweetness, entered the room eagerly. On her arm,
wrapped in handsome long clothes, lay what seemed to be the form of an
infant.

"There!" she said, "that naughty Katte insisted that the doctor was not
here. I knew perfectly well that I had seen him enter. Well, doctor,"
she continued, addressing Cerizet, "I am not satisfied with the
condition of my little one, not satisfied at all; she is very pallid,
and has grown so thin. I think she must be teething."

Du Portail made Cerizet a sign to accept the role so abruptly thrust
upon him.

"Yes, evidently," he said, "it is the teeth; children always turn pale
at that crisis; but there's nothing in that, my dear lady, that need
make you anxious."

"Do you really think so, doctor," said the poor crazed girl, whom our
readers have recognized as du Portail's ward, Lydie de la Peyrade; "but
see her dear little arms, how thin they are getting."

Then taking out the pins that fastened the swathings, she exhibited to
Cerizet a bundle of linen which to her poor distracted mind represented
a baby.

"Why, no, no," said Cerizet, "she is a trifle thin, it is true, but the
flesh is firm and her color excellent."

"Poor darling!" said Lydie, kissing her dream lovingly. "I do think
she is better since morning. What had I better give her, doctor? Broth
disgusts her, and she won't take soup."

"Well," said Cerizet, "try panada. Does she like sweet things?"

"Oh, yes!" cried the poor girl, her face brightening, "she adores them.
Would chocolate be good for her?"

"Certainly," replied Cerizet, "but without vanilla; vanilla is very
heating."

"Then I'll get what they call health-chocolate," said Lydie, with all
the intonations of a mother, listening to the doctor as to a god who
reassured her. "Uncle," she added, "please ring for Bruneau, and tell
him to go to Marquis at once and get some pounds of that chocolate."

"Bruneau has just gone out," said her guardian; "but there's no hurry,
he shall go in the course of the day."

"There, she is going to sleep," said Cerizet, anxious to put an end
to the scene, which, in spite of his hardened nature, he felt to be
painful