pasm, by contracting his ghastly
countenance, made it appear still more hideous.

"Yes," replied he, trying to conceal his emotion, "a sudden darting pain
seized me, and--Pray excuse my interrupting your kind and sensible
discourse, and be pleased to proceed."

"It really is a great pity," resumed the old labourer, "that this
excellent doctor should not be with us at present; but I tell you what,
he is as good as he is skilful, and I am quite sure if you let your
little lad conduct you to his house when you return to Paris, that he
will cure you. His address is not difficult to recollect, it is 17 Allee
des Veuves. Even should you forget the number, it will not matter, for
there are but very few doctors in the neighbourhood, and no other negro
surgeon,--for, only imagine, this clever, kind, and charitable man is a
black, but his heart is white and good. His name is David,--Doctor
David,--you will be able to remember that name, I dare say."

The features of the Schoolmaster were so seamed and scarred that it was
difficult to perceive when his colour varied. He did, however, on the
present occasion, turn ghastly pale as he first heard the exact number
mentioned of Rodolph's house, and afterwards the description of the
black doctor,--of David, the negro surgeon, who, by Rodolph's orders,
had inflicted on him the fearful punishment, the terrible results of
which were each hour more painfully developed. Father Chatelain,
however, was too much interested in his subject to notice the deadly
paleness of the Schoolmaster, and proceeded with his discourse:

"When you leave us, my poor fellow, we will be sure to write his address
on a slip of paper and give it to your son, for I know that, besides
putting you in a certain way to be cured of your painful wound, it would
be gratifying to M. David to be able to relieve your sufferings. Oh, he
is so good,--never so happy as when he has rendered any person a
service. I wish he had not always that mournful and dejected look. I
fear he has some heavy care near his heart; and he is so good, so full
of pity for all who suffer. Well, well, Providence will bless him in
another world; but come, friend, let us drink to the health and
happiness of your future benefactor,--here take this mug."

"No, thank you!" returned the Schoolmaster, with a gloomy air; "none for
me. I--I am not thirsty, and I never drink unless I am."

"Nay, friend, but this is good old wine I have poured out for you; n