rised that you did not address your inquiry about Catherine Curieux
to him. All that you wished has been done immediately, with the utmost
promptitude and devotion. Three months hence Catherine Curieux will be
sent to you."

"Where is she?" asked Veronique.

"She is now in the hospital Saint-Louis," replied the old man; "they are
awaiting her recovery before sending her from Paris."

"Ah! is the poor girl ill?"

"You will find all necessary information in these papers," said
Grossetete, giving Veronique a packet.

Madame Graslin returned to her guests to conduct them into the
magnificent dining-room on the ground-floor. She sat at table, but did
not herself take part in the dinner; since her arrival at Montegnac
she had made it a rule to take her meals alone, and Aline, who knew the
reason of this withdrawal, faithfully kept the secret of it till her
mistress was in danger of death.

The mayor, the _juge de paix_, and the doctor of Montegnac had been
invited.

The doctor, a young man twenty-seven years of age, named Roubaud, was
extremely desirous of knowing a woman so celebrated in Limoges. The
rector was all the more pleased to present him at the chateau because he
wanted to gather a little society around Veronique to distract her mind
and give it food. Roubaud was one of those thoroughly well-trained
young physicians whom the Ecole de Medecine in Paris sends forth to the
profession. He would undoubtedly have shone on the vast stage of the
capital; but frightened by the clash of ambitions in Paris, and knowing
himself more capable than pushing, more learned than intriguing, his
gentle disposition led him to choose the narrow career of the provinces,
where he hoped to be sooner appreciated than in Paris.

At Limoges, Roubaud came in contact with the settled practice of the
regular physicians and the habits of the people; he therefore let
himself be persuaded by Monsieur Bonnet, who, judging by the gentle and
winning expression of his face, thought him well-suited to co-operate
in his own work at Montegnac. Roubaud was small and fair; his general
appearance was rather insipid, but his gray eyes betrayed the depths of
the physiologist and the patient tenacity of a studious man. There was
no physician in Montegnac except an old army-surgeon, more devoted to
his cellar than to his patients, and too old to continue with any vigor
the hard life of a country doctor. At the present time he was dying.

Roubaud had be