alone with the physician.

"It is almost part of my profession," replied Magnian laughing.
"However, the terrible affair is nearly arranged. I have done my share;
do yours. When shall you set out for the south?"

The satisfaction depicted on Bouchereau's physiognomy vanished, and was
replaced by sombre anxiety.

"Doctor," said he, in an altered voice, "You must tell me the truth; I
have resolution to hear my sentence with calmness; my chest is attacked,
is it not?"

"You mean your head."

"My head also!" cried Bouchereau, positively green with terror.

"You are mad," said the Doctor, shrugging his shoulders; "I would
willingly change my chest for yours."

"You deceive me. I cannot forget what escaped you yesterday. I coughed
all night long, and I have a pain between my shoulders which I never
perceived before."

"All fancy!"

"I feel what I feel," continued Bouchereau gloomily; "I do not fear
death; but I confess that I could not, without regret, bid an eternal
adieu, in the prime of life, to my wife and family. It is my duty to be
cautious for their sake, if not for my own. Instead of writing to
Virginia to return home, I will join her at Fontainbleau, and start at
once for Nice."

"Go," said the doctor, "the journey cannot hurt you."

"But do you think it will benefit me?"

"Without a doubt."

"It is not too late, then, to combat this frightful malady."

"Oh, you are not very far gone," said Magnian ironically. "I shall be at
Nice myself in less than six weeks, so that you are sure to be attended
by a physician in whom you have confidence, if, contrary to all
probability, your state of health requires it."

The two friends parted: the Doctor laughing at his patient's fears, the
patient imagining himself in imminent peril, and almost doubting whether
it would not have been better to fall by the terrible sword of Captain
Pelletier than to linger and expire, in the flower of his age, upon an
inhospitable foreign shore. In two days, Bouchereau, haunted by his
funereal visions, had taken out his passport, arranged his affairs, and
completed his preparations. Getting into a post-chaise, he made his
unexpected appearance at Fontainbleau; and, exerting his marital
authority to an extent he had never previously ventured upon, he carried
off his wife, stupified by such a sudden decision, and greatly vexed to
leave Paris, which Pelletier's languishing epistles had lately made her
find an unusually agreeable