id the last good by to him on
board the ship, the hopes which his family had founded on his journey,
the desolation of his mother on the arrival of the letter; and he
thought of death: he beheld his father dead, his mother dressed in
black, the family in misery. And he remained a long time thus. A light
hand touched him on the shoulder, and he started up: it was a nun.

"What is the matter with my father?" he asked her quickly.

"Is he your father?" said the sister gently.

"Yes, he is my father; I have come. What ails him?"

"Courage, my boy," replied the sister; "the doctor will be here soon
now." And she went away without saying anything more.

Half an hour later he heard the sound of a bell, and he saw the doctor
enter at the further end of the hall, accompanied by an assistant; the
sister and a nurse followed him. They began the visit, pausing at every
bed. This time of waiting seemed an eternity to the lad, and his anxiety
increased at every step of the doctor. At length they arrived at the
next bed. The doctor was an old man, tall and stooping, with a grave
face. Before he left the next bed the boy rose to his feet, and when he
approached he began to cry.

The doctor looked at him.

"He is the sick man's son," said the sister; "he arrived this morning
from the country."

The doctor placed one hand on his shoulder; then bent over the sick man,
felt his pulse, touched his forehead, and asked a few questions of the
sister, who replied, "There is nothing new." Then he thought for a while
and said, "Continue the present treatment."

Then the boy plucked up courage, and asked in a tearful voice, "What is
the matter with my father?"

"Take courage, my boy," replied the doctor, laying his hand on his
shoulder once more; "he has erysipelas in his face. It is a serious
case, but there is still hope. Help him. Your presence may do him a
great deal of good."

"But he does not know me!" exclaimed the boy in a tone of affliction.

"He will recognize you--to-morrow perhaps. Let us hope for the best and
keep up our courage."

The boy would have liked to ask some more questions, but he did not
dare. The doctor passed on. And then he began his life of nurse. As he
could do nothing else, he arranged the coverlets of the sick man,
touched his hand every now and then, drove away the flies, bent over him
at every groan, and when the sister brought him something to drink, he
took the glass or the spoon from her hand, an