for years
in the same village, but, though he was her own son, she had never given
him a look of recognition, had used him as she used all others. In turn,
the dwarf had never told any one but Valmond of the relationship; and
so the two lived their strange lives in their own singular way. But the
Cure knew who it was that kept the old woman's house supplied with
wood and other necessaries. Parpon himself had tried to summon her to
Valmond's bedside, for he knew well her skill with herbs, but the little
hut was empty, and he could get no trace of her. She had disappeared the
night Valmond was seized of the fever, and she came back to her little
home in the very hour that Elise visited her. The girl found her boiling
herbs before a big fire. She was stirring the pot diligently, now and
then sprinkling in what looked like a brown dust, and watching the brew
intently.

She nodded, but did not look at Elise, and said crossly:

"Come in, come in, and shut the door, silly."

"Madame," said the girl, "His Excellency has the black fever."

"What of that?" she returned irritably.

"I thought maybe your herbs could cure him. You've cured others, and
this is an awful sickness. Ah, won't you save him, if you can?"

"What are you to him, pale-face?" she said, her eyes peering into the
pot.

"Nothing more to him than you are, madame," the girl answered wearily.

"I'll cure because I want, not because you ask me, pretty brat."

Elise's heart gave a leap: these very herbs were for Valmond! The old
woman had travelled far to get the medicaments immediately she had heard
of Valmond's illness. Night and day she had trudged, and she was more
brown and weather-beaten than ever.

"The black fever! the black fever!" cried the old woman. "I know it
well. It's most like a plague. I know it. But I know the cure-ha, ha!
Come along now, feather-legs, what are you staring there for? Hold that
jug while I pour the darling liquor in. Ha, ha! Crazy Joan hasn't lived
for nothing. They have to come to her; the great folks have to come to
her!"

So she meandered on, filling the jug. Later, in the warm dusk, they
travelled up to Dalgrothe Mountain, and came to Valmond's tent. By the
couch knelt Parpon, watching the laboured breathing of the sick man.
When he saw Madame Degardy, he gave a growl of joy, and made way for
her. She pushed him back with her stick contemptuously, looked Valmond
over, ran her fingers down his cheek, felt his throat, a