l. There is not
a day that she does not say that but for you she would be at this time
like her brother Valentin."

"Bah! We will save him, too. He is getting better, Valentin is. I have
just been to see him."

Sophie seized the doctor's hands; large tears stood in her eyes, and she
could only stammer:

"Oh, M. Pascal!"

How they loved him! And Clotilde felt her affection for him increase,
seeing the affection of all these people for him. They remained chatting
there for a few moments longer, in the salubrious shade of the green
oaks. Then they took the road back to Plassans, having still another
visit to make.

This was to a tavern, that stood at the crossing of two roads and was
white with the flying dust. A steam mill had recently been established
opposite, utilizing the old buildings of Le Paradou, an estate dating
from the last century, and Lafouasse, the tavern keeper, still carried
on his little business, thanks to the workmen at the mill and to the
peasants who brought their corn to it. He had still for customers on
Sundays the few inhabitants of Les Artauds, a neighboring hamlet. But
misfortune had struck him; for the last three years he had been dragging
himself about groaning with rheumatism, in which the doctor had finally
recognized the beginning of ataxia. But he had obstinately refused to
take a servant, persisting in waiting on his customers himself, holding
on by the furniture. So that once more firm on his feet, after a dozen
punctures, he already proclaimed his cure everywhere.

He chanced to be just then at his door, and looked strong and vigorous,
with his tall figure, fiery face, and fiery red hair.

"I was waiting for you, M. Pascal. Do you know that I have been able to
bottle two casks of wine without being tired!"

Clotilde remained outside, sitting on a stone bench; while Pascal
entered the room to give Lafouasse the injection. She could hear
them speaking, and the latter, who in spite of his stoutness was very
cowardly in regard to pain, complained that the puncture hurt, adding,
however, that after all a little suffering was a small price to pay for
good health. Then he declared he would be offended if the doctor did
not take a glass of something. The young lady would not affront him by
refusing to take some syrup. He carried a table outside, and there was
nothing for it but they must touch glasses with him.

"To your health, M. Pascal, and to the health of all the poor devils to