desk, and a large
writing table, on which were a mortar and a microscope, he was
completing with infinite care the preparation of a vial of his liquor.
Since the day before, after pounding the nerve substance of a sheep in
distilled water, he had been decanting and filtering it. And he had
at last obtained a small bottle of a turbid, opaline liquid, irised by
bluish gleams, which he regarded for a long time in the light as if he
held in his hand the regenerating blood and symbol of the world.

But a few light knocks at the door and an urgent voice drew him from his
dream.

"Why, what is the matter, monsieur? It is a quarter-past twelve; don't
you intend to come to breakfast?"

For downstairs breakfast had been waiting for some time past in the
large, cool dining-room. The blinds were closed, with the exception of
one which had just been half opened. It was a cheerful room, with pearl
gray panels relieved by blue mouldings. The table, the sideboard, and
the chairs must have formed part of the set of Empire furniture in
the bedrooms; and the old mahogany, of a deep red, stood out in strong
relief against the light background. A hanging lamp of polished brass,
always shining, gleamed like a sun; while on the four walls bloomed four
large bouquets in pastel, of gillyflowers, carnations, hyacinths, and
roses.

Joyous, radiant, Dr. Pascal entered.

"Ah, the deuce! I had forgotten! I wanted to finish. Look at this, quite
fresh, and perfectly pure this time; something to work miracles with!"

And he showed the vial, which he had brought down in his enthusiasm. But
his eye fell on Clotilde standing erect and silent, with a serious
air. The secret vexation caused by waiting had brought back all her
hostility, and she, who had burned to throw herself on his neck in the
morning, remained motionless as if chilled and repelled by him.

"Good!" he resumed, without losing anything of his gaiety, "we are still
at odds, it seems. That is something very ugly. So you don't admire my
sorcerer's liquor, which resuscitates the dead?"

He seated himself at the table, and the young girl, sitting down
opposite him, was obliged at last to answer:

"You know well, master, that I admire everything belonging to you. Only,
my most ardent desire is that others also should admire you. And there
is the death of poor old Boutin--"

"Oh!" he cried, without letting her finish, "an epileptic, who succumbed
to a congestive attack! See! since you