tioned Pascal concerning Charles with an air of paternal
interest, which concealed a growing anxiety. The doctor constrained
by his mother's imperious glances, softened the truth. Well, the boy's
health was certainly not very robust; it was on that account, indeed,
that they were glad to leave him for weeks together in the country with
his uncle: but he had no definite disease. Pascal did not add that he
had for a moment cherished the dream of giving him a brain and muscles
by treating him with his hypodermic injections of nerve substance,
but that he had always been met by the same difficulty; the slightest
puncture brought on a hemorrhage which it was found necessary to stop
by compresses; there was a laxness of the tissues, due to degeneracy; a
bloody dew which exuded from the skin; he had especially, bleedings at
the nose so sudden and so violent that they did not dare to leave him
alone, fearing lest all the blood in his veins should flow out. And the
doctor ended by saying that although the boy's intelligence had been
sluggish, he still hoped that it would develop in an environment of
quicker mental activity.

They arrived at the asylum and Macquart, who had been listening to the
doctor, descended from his seat, saying:

"He is a gentle little fellow, a very gentle little fellow! And then, he
is so beautiful--an angel!"

Maxime, who was still pale, and who shivered in spite of the stifling
heat, put no more questions. He looked at the vast buildings of the
asylum, the wings of the various quarters separated by gardens, the
men's quarters from those of the women, those of the harmless insane
from those of the violent insane. A scrupulous cleanliness reigned
everywhere, a gloomy silence--broken from time to time by footsteps and
the noise of keys. Old Macquart knew all the keepers. Besides, the doors
were always to open to Dr. Pascal, who had been authorized to attend
certain of the inmates. They followed a passage and entered a court; it
was here--one of the chambers on the ground floor, a room covered with
a light carpet, furnished with a bed, a press, a table, an armchair, and
two chairs. The nurse, who had orders never to quit her charge, happened
just now to be absent, and the only occupants of the room were the
madwoman, sitting rigid in her armchair at one side of the table, and
the boy, sitting on a chair on the opposite side, absorbed in cutting
out his pictures.

"Go in, go in!" Macquart repeated. "Oh,