wn. The poor
Pompon, exceedingly perplexed, tugged at his beard, thoughtfully gnawing
wisps of it.

"Come," said he suddenly to Mme. Polge, whose long face had grown still
longer between her ringlets, "we have only one course to take. We must
remove the infirmary and carry all the sick into the dormitory. They
will be neither better nor worse for passing another half-day there. As
for those with the rash, we will put them out of the way in some corner.
They are too ugly, they must not be seen. Come along, you up there! I
want every one on the bridge."

The dinner-bell being violently rung, immediately hurried steps are
heard. Seamstresses, infirmary-nurses, servants, goatherds, issue from
all directions, running, jostling each other across the court-yards.
Others fly about, cries, calls; but that which dominates is the noise
of a mighty cleansing, a streaming of water as though Bethlehem had been
suddenly attacked by fire. And those groanings of sick children snatched
from the warmth of their beds, all those little screaming bundles
carried across the damp park, their coverings fluttering through the
branches, powerfully complete the impression of a fire. At the end of
two hours, thanks to a prodigious activity, the house is ready from top
to bottom for the visit which it is about to receive, all the staff at
their posts, the stove lighted, the goats picturesquely sprinkled over
the park. Mme. Polge has donned her green silk dress, the director a
costume somewhat less _neglige_ than usual, but of which the simplicity
excluded all idea of premeditation. The Departmental Secretary may come.

And here he is.

He alights with Jenkins and Jansoulet from a splendid coach with the
red and gold livery of the Nabob. Feigning the deepest astonishment,
Pondevez rushes forward to meet his visitors.

"Ah, M. Jenkins, what an honour! What a surprise!"

Greetings are exchanged on the flight of steps, bows, shakings of hands,
introductions. Jenkins with his flowing overcoat wide open over
his loyal breast, beams his best and most cordial smile; there is
a significant wrinkle on his brow, however. He is uneasy about the
surprises which may be held in store for them by the establishment, of
the distressful condition of which he is better aware than any one. If
only Pondevez had taken proper precautions. Things begin well, at any
rate. The rather theatrical view from the entrance, of those white
fleeces frisking about among the bus