. You will easily
perceive that I am announcing a calamity for you. Do not,' he broke out
in tones of real solicitude--'do not give way to tears after a meal,
Anastasie. You will certainly give yourself a false digestion.'

Anastasie controlled herself. 'You know how willing I am to humour you,'
she said, 'in all reasonable matters. But on this point--'

'My dear love,' interrupted the Doctor, eager to prevent a refusal, 'who
wished to leave Paris? Who made me give up cards, and the opera, and the
boulevard, and my social relations, and all that was my life before I
knew you? Have I been faithful? Have I been obedient? Have I not borne
my doom with cheerfulness? In all honesty, Anastasie, have I not a right
to a stipulation on my side? I have, and you know it. I stipulate my
son.'

Anastasie was aware of defeat; she struck her colours instantly. 'You
will break my heart,' she sighed.

'Not in the least,' said he. 'You will feel a trifling inconvenience for
a month, just as I did when I was first brought to this vile hamlet; then
your admirable sense and temper will prevail, and I see you already as
content as ever, and making your husband the happiest of men.'

'You know I can refuse you nothing,' she said, with a last flicker of
resistance; 'nothing that will make you truly happier. But will this?
Are you sure, my husband? Last night, you say, you found him! He may be
the worst of humbugs.'

'I think not,' replied the Doctor. 'But do not suppose me so unwary as
to adopt him out of hand. I am, I flatter myself, a finished man of the
world; I have had all possibilities in view; my plan is contrived to meet
them all. I take the lad as stable boy. If he pilfer, if he grumble, if
he desire to change, I shall see I was mistaken; I shall recognise him
for no son of mine, and send him tramping.'

'You will never do so when the time comes,' said his wife; 'I know your
good heart.'

She reached out her hand to him, with a sigh; the Doctor smiled as he
took it and carried it to his lips; he had gained his point with greater
ease than he had dared to hope; for perhaps the twentieth time he had
proved the efficacy of his trusty argument, his Excalibur, the hint of a
return to Paris. Six months in the capital, for a man of the Doctor's
antecedents and relations, implied no less a calamity than total ruin.
Anastasie had saved the remainder of his fortune by keeping him strictly
in the country. The very