She was now stretched motionless on her bed. The old crones had come about her less from humanity than to discover the secrets of her _den_, the access to which she had hitherto strictly defended. She held in her left hand a small packet wrapped up in half a pocket-handkerchief, which she clutched convulsively. It was the _treasure_, they all exclaimed. Her case was a grave one--a congestion of the brain. The doctor bled her, and then wrote his prescription--his first! The bleeding brought the Countess to herself. When she heard him tell one of the bystanders to go to the chemist and get the potion,-- "Potion!" she exclaimed, laying hold of the paper, "I want no potion--I am not ill. Do you think I have money to pay for your drugs? Go away!--all of you--go!" She crumpled the prescription in her hand, and was about to throw it on the floor, when something in the paper apparently arrested her. She read the prescription, and, turning to the doctor with a manner quite changed and subdued, asked how much it would cost? She then opened the little packet she had held till then so jealously in her hand. All the old crones stretched forward. A few franc-pieces and some great sous were all the _treasure_ it contained. That first client, so long looked for, was come at last. Our doctor had his patient--that first patient whom one pets and caresses, to whom one is nurse as well as physician. No uncertain diagnostics _there_--no retarded visits, no hasty prescriptions. If this one die, it is verily his fault. He devoted himself, body and soul, to the old woman. Certainly the fees would not be very brilliant, nor would the cure spread his reputation very widely. He thought not of this--but save her he must! He absolutely loved this unamiable Countess. He assembled the _ban et arrière-ban_ of science, and armed himself _cap-à-pie_ in knowledge for her defence. The object of all this solicitude received his attentions, however, with an increasing ill-humour, for each fresh medicine made a fresh demand upon her purse. "How long will this last?" she said one day; "I must go out--I have no more money--I must go out this very day." "Do not disturb yourself," began the Doctor. "Not disturb myself!" she interrupted; "easy to say! Instead of giving me these drinks and draughts, give me something that will put a little strength into me--for I must go out." "Listen to me! remain tranquil a few days"--She turned round from him with impatience. "To leave your chamber now would be to expose your life. Give me but four days; and if you have no more money, I will charge myself with the medicines." "You!" cried the Countess, looking up with astonishment. "And why not me?" said the young Doctor. "You shall return it to me some time--when you will." "You! who have not often a dinner for yourself!" "Who says that?" asked the Doctor, blushing involuntarily. "All the house says it."