.

"True," said the girl, replacing the bandages and rising; "I'll put her
to bed. Adieu, doctor; it is very kind of you to come sometimes without
being sent for. If you knew how anxious we poor mothers are, and how,
with a word or two, you can do us such good. Ah, there she is crying!"

"She is so sleepy," said Cerizet; "she'll be much better in her cradle."

"Yes, and I'll play her that sonata of Beethoven that dear papa was so
fond of; it is wonderful how calming it is. Adieu, doctor," she said
again, pausing on the threshold of the door. "Adieu, kind doctor!" And
she sent him a kiss.

Cerizet was quite overcome.

"You see," said du Portail, "that she is an angel,--never the least
ill-humor, never a sharp word; sad sometimes, but always caused by a
feeling of motherly solicitude. That is what first gave the doctors the
idea that if reality could take the place of her constant hallucination
she might recover her reason. Well, this is the girl that fool of a
Peyrade refuses, with the accompaniment of a magnificent 'dot.' But
he must come to it, or I'll forswear my name. Listen," he added as the
sound of a piano came to them; "hear! what talent! Thousands of sane
women can't compare with her; they are not as reasonable as she is,
except on the surface."

When Beethoven's sonata, played from the soul with a perfection of
shades and tones that filled her hardened hearer with admiration, had
ceased to sound, Cerizet said:--

"I agree with you, monsieur; la Peyrade refuses an angel, a treasure, a
pearl, and if I were in his place--But we shall bring him round to your
purpose. Now I shall serve you not only with zeal, but with enthusiasm,
I may say fanaticism."

As Cerizet was concluding this oath of fidelity at the door of the
study, he heard a woman's voice which was not that of Lydie.

"Is he in his study, the dear commander?" said that voice, with a
slightly foreign accent.

"Yes, madame, but please come into the salon. Monsieur is not alone; I
will tell him you are here."

This was the voice of Katte, the old Dutch maid.

"Stop, go this way," said du Portail quickly to Cerizet.

And he opened a hidden door which led through a dark corridor directly
to the staircase, whence Cerizet betook himself to the office of the
"Echo de la Bievre," where a heated discussion was going on.

The article by which the new editors of every newspaper lay before the
public their "profession of faith," as the technical sayi