t," answered the poet.

"This man swears that it is so."

D'Argenton looked at the man, whose face was not absolutely unknown to
him.

"Did you come from the gentleman,--that is to say, did he send you?"

"No; he is too sick to send any one. It is three weeks since he has been
in his bed, and very, very ill."

"What is his disease?"

"Something on the lungs, and the doctors say that he cannot live; so I
thought I had better come and tell his mother."

"What is your name?"

"Belisaire, sir; but the lady knows me."

"Very well, then," said the poet, "you will say to the one who sent you,
that the game is a good one, though rather old, and he had better try
something else."

"Sir?" said the pedler, interrogatively, for he did not comprehend these
sarcastic words.

But D'Argenton had left the room, and Belisaire stood in silent
amazement, having caught a glimpse of the lighted salon and its crowd of
people.

"It is nothing, only a mistake," said the poet on his entrance; and
while he majestically resumed his reading, the pedler hurried home
through the dark streets, through the sharp hail and fierce wind, eager
to reach Jack, who lay in a high fever, on the narrow iron bed in the
attic-room.

He had been taken ill on his return from Etiolles; he lay there, almost
without speaking, a victim to fever and a severe cold, so serious, that
the physicians warned his friends that they had everything to fear.
Belisaire wished to summon M. Rivals, but to this Jack refused to
consent. This was the only energy he had shown since his illness, and
the only time he had spoken voluntarily, save when he told his friend to
take his watch, and a ring he owned, and sell them.

All Jack's savings had been absorbed in furnishing the rooms at
Charonne, and the Belisaire household was equally impoverished through
their recent marriage. But it mattered very little; the pedler and his
wife were capable of every sacrifice for their friend; they carried
to the Mont de Piete the greater part of their furniture, piece by
piece--for medicines were so dear. They were advised to send Jack to the
hospital. "He would be better off; and, besides, he would then cost you
nothing," was the argument employed. The good people were now at the end
of their resources, and decided to inform Charlotte of her son's danger.

"Bring her back with you," said Madame Belisaire to her husband. "To see
his mother would be such a comfort to the lad. He never