in conditions; for instance, that tuberculosis is
the result of fatigue, privations, and physiological miseries. Well,
recently it has been admitted, that is to say, the revolutionists admit,
a parasitical origin for these diseases, and in France and Germany there
is an army looking for these parasites. I am a soldier in this army, and
to help me in these researches I established a laboratory in the
dining-room. It is to the parasites of tuberculosis and cancers that I
devote myself, and for seven years, that is, since I was house-surgeon,
my comrades have called me the cancer topic. I have discovered the
parasite of the tuberculosis, but I have not yet been able to free it
from all its impurities by the process of culture. I am still at it. That
is to say, I am very near it, and to-morrow, perhaps, or in a few days, I
may make a discovery that will be a revolution, and cover its discoverer
with glory. The same with the cancer. I have found its microbe. But all
is not done. See what I must give up in leaving Paris."

"Why give all this up? Could you not continue your researches in
Auvergne?"

"It is impossible, for many reasons that are too long to explain, but one
will suffice. The culture of these parasites can be done only in certain
temperatures rigorously maintained at the necessary degree, and these
temperatures can be obtained only by stoves, like the one in my
laboratory, fed by gas, the entrance of which is automatically regulated
by the temperature of the water. How could I use this stove in a country
where there is no gas? No, no! If I leave Paris, everything is at an end
my position, as well as my work. I shall become a country doctor, and
nothing but a country doctor. Let the sheriff turn me out to-morrow, and
all the four years' accumulations in my laboratory, all my works en train
that demand only a few days or hours to complete, may go to the
second-hand dealer, or be thrown into the street. Of all my efforts,
weary nights, privations, and hopes, there remains only one souvenir--for
me. And yet, if it did not remain, perhaps I should be less exasperated,
and should accept with a heart less sore the life to which I shall never
resign myself. You know very well that I am a rebel, and do not submit
tamely."

She rose, and taking his hand, pressed it closely in her own.

"You must stay in Paris," she said. "Pardon me for having insisted that
you could live in the country. I thought more of myself than of