He was all but insensible for some moments. Then the color
came back to his lips, and he sighed heavily.

"An attack of the nerves," he said, shaking his head feebly. "An attack
of the nerves, Messieurs."

My father looked doubtful.

"Are you often taken in this way?" he asked, with unusual gentleness.

"_Mais oui_, Monsieur," admitted the Frenchman, reluctantly. "He does
often arrive to me. Not--not that he is dangerous. Ah, bah! _Pas
du tout_!"

"Humph!" ejaculated my father, more doubtfully than before. "Let me feel
your pulse."

The Chevalier bowed and submitted, watching the countenance of the
operator all the time with an anxiety that was not lost upon me.

"Do you sleep well?" asked my father, holding the fragile little wrist
between his finger and thumb.

"Passably, Monsieur."

"Dream much?"

"Ye--es, I dream."

"Are you subject to giddiness?"

The Chevalier shrugged his shoulders and looked uneasy.

"_C'est vrai_" he acknowledged, more unwillingly than ever, "_J'ai des
vertiges_."

My father relinquished his hold and scribbled a rapid prescription.

"There, sir," said he, "get that preparation made up, and when you next
feel as you felt just now, drink a wine-glassful. I should recommend you
to keep some always at hand, in case of emergency. You will find further
directions on the other side."

The little Frenchman attempted to get up with his usual vivacity; but
was obliged to balance himself against the back of a chair.

"Monsieur," said he, with another of his profound bows, "I thank you
infinitely. You make me too much attention; but I am grateful. And,
Monsieur, my little girl--my child that is far away across the sea--she
thanks you also. _Elle m'aime, Monsieur--elle m'aime, cette pauvre
petite_! What shall she do if I die?"

Again he raised his hand to his brow. He was unconscious of anything
theatrical in the gesture. He was in sad earnest, and his eyes were wet
with tears, which he made no effort to conceal.

My father shuffled restlessly in his chair.

"No obligation--no obligation at all," he muttered, with a touch of
impatience in his voice. "And now, what about those tickets? I suppose,
Basil, you're dying to see all this tomfoolery?"

"That I am, sir," said I, joyfully. "I should like it above all things!"

The Chevalier glided forward, and laid a couple of little pink cards
upon my father's desk.

"If," said he, timidly, "if Monsieur will make me the honor to
accep