up and down the room three or four times,
then, after having put on his mantle, buckled on his sword, and put on a
broad-brimmed felt hat, opened the door and went out.

Coconnas breathed again. He thought that he was freed from his phantom.
For two or three hours his blood circulated more calmly and coolly in
his veins than it had done since the duel. La Mole's absence for one day
would have restored Coconnas to his senses; a week's absence would
perhaps have cured him; unfortunately, La Mole returned at the end of
two hours.

This reappearance of La Mole was like a poniard-stab for Coconnas; and
although La Mole did not return alone, Coconnas did not give a single
look at his companion.

And yet his companion was worth looking at.

He was a man of forty, short, thick-set, and vigorous, with black hair
which came to his eyebrows, and a black beard, which, contrary to the
fashion of the period, thickly covered the chin; but he seemed one who
cared little for the fashion.

He wore a leather jerkin, all covered with brown spots; red hose and
leggings, thick shoes coming above the ankle, a cap the same color as
his stockings, and a girdle, from which hung a large knife in a leather
sheaf, completed his attire.

This singular personage, whose presence in the Louvre seemed so
anomalous, threw his brown mantle on a chair and unceremoniously
approached Coconnas, whose eyes, as if fascinated, remained fixed upon
La Mole, who remained at some distance. He looked at the sick man, and
shaking his head, said to La Mole:

"You have waited till it was rather late, my dear gentleman."

"I could not get out sooner," said La Mole.

"Eh! Heavens! you should have sent for me."

"Whom had I to send?"

"True, I forgot where we are. I had told those ladies, but they would
not listen to me. If my prescriptions had been followed instead of those
of that ass, Ambroise Pare, you would by this time have been in a
condition to go in pursuit of adventures together, or exchange another
sword-thrust if such had been your good pleasure; but we shall see. Does
your friend listen to reason?"

"Scarcely."

"Hold out your tongue, my dear gentleman."

Coconnas thrust out his tongue to La Mole, making such a hideous grimace
that the practitioner shook his head a second time.

"Oho!" he muttered, "contraction of the muscles. There's no time to be
lost. This evening I will send you a potion ready prepared; you must
make him take it three