is with his hands. And you will see when you
have brightened him up in Paris, in a different way from what we have
been able to do at Plassans, eh?"

"No doubt," murmured Maxime. "I do not say no; I will think about it."

He seemed embarrassed for a moment, and then added:

"You know I came only to see him. I cannot take him with me now as I am
to spend a month at St. Gervais. But as soon as I return to Paris I will
think of it, I will write to you."

Then, taking out his watch, he cried:

"The devil! Half-past five. You know that I would not miss the nine
o'clock train for anything in the world."

"Yes, yes, let us go," said Felicite brusquely. "We have nothing more to
do here."

Macquart, whom his sister-in-law's anger seemed still to divert,
endeavored to delay them with all sorts of stories. He told of the days
when Aunt Dide talked, and he affirmed that he had found her one morning
singing a romance of her youth. And then he had no need of the carriage,
he would take the boy back on foot, since they left him to him.

"Kiss your papa, my boy, for you know now that you see him, but you
don't know whether you shall ever see him again or not."

With the same surprised and indifferent movement Charles raised his
head, and Maxime, troubled, pressed another kiss on his forehead.

"Be very good and very pretty, my pet. And love me a little."

"Come, come, we have no time to lose," repeated Felicite.

But the keeper here re-entered the room. She was a stout, vigorous girl,
attached especially to the service of the madwoman. She carried her to
and from her bed, night and morning; she fed her and took care of her
like a child. And she at once entered into conversation with Dr. Pascal,
who questioned her. One of the doctor's most cherished dreams was to
cure the mad by his treatment of hypodermic injections. Since in their
case it was the brain that was in danger, why should not hypodermic
injections of nerve substance give them strength and will, repairing
the breaches made in the organ? So that for a moment he had dreamed
of trying the treatment with the old mother; then he began to have
scruples, he felt a sort of awe, without counting that madness at
that age was total, irreparable ruin. So that he had chosen another
subject--a hatter named Sarteur, who had been for a year past in the
asylum, to which he had come himself to beg them to shut him up to
prevent him from committing a crime. In his paroxysms, so s