"Ah, doctor, I have had a hard time of it; but you were right, I am
doing better. Thank you, my good Abbe; I was wondering what had become
of Schmucke--"
"Schmucke has had nothing to eat since yesterday evening, and now it
is four o'clock! You have no one with you now and it would be wise to
send for Mme. Cibot."
"She is capable of anything!" said Pons, without attempting to conceal
all his abhorrence at the sound of her name. "It is true, Schmucke
ought to have some trustworthy person."
"M. Duplanty and I have been thinking about you both--"
"Ah! thank you, I had not thought of that."
"--And M. Duplanty suggests that you should have Mme. Cantinet--"
"Oh! Mme. Cantinet who lets the chairs!" exclaimed Pons. "Yes, she is
an excellent creature."
"She has no liking for Mme. Cibot," continued the doctor, "and she
would take good care of M. Schmucke--"
"Send her to me, M. Duplanty . . . send her and her husband too. I
shall be easy. Nothing will be stolen here."
Schmucke had taken Pons' hand again, and held it joyously in his own.
Pons was almost well again, he thought.
"Let us go, Monsieur l'Abbe," said the doctor. "I will send Mme.
Cantinet round at once. I see how it is. She perhaps may not find M.
Pons alive."
While the Abbe Duplanty was persuading Pons to engage Mme. Cantinet as
his nurse, Fraisier had sent for her. He had plied the beadle's wife
with sophistical reasoning and subtlety. It was difficult to resist
his corrupting influence.
Pages:
906
907
908
909
910
911
912
913
914
915
916
917
918
919
920
921
922
923
924
925
926
927
928
929
930