“Yes, sir,” he said, “I have come on behalf of Mme. la Presidente de Marville, her husband, and her daughter, to express their regret. They learned quite by accident that you are ill, and they would like to nurse you themselves. They want you to go to Marville and get well there. Mme. la Vicomtesse Popinot, the little Cecile that you love so much, will be your nurse. She took your part with her mother. She convinced Mme. de Marville that she had made a mistake.” “So my next-of-kin have sent you to me, have they?” Pons exclaimed indignantly, “and sent the best judge and expert in all Paris with you to show you the way? Oh! a nice commission!” he cried, bursting into wild laughter. “You have come to value my pictures and curiosities, my snuff-boxes and miniatures!... Make your valuation. You have a man there who understands everything, and more--he can buy everything, for he is a millionaire ten times over.... My dear relatives will not have long to wait,” he added, with bitter irony, “they have choked the last breath out of me.... Ah! Mme. Cibot, you said you were a mother to me, and you bring dealers into the house, and my competitor and the Camusots, while I am asleep!... Get out, all of you!--” The unhappy man was beside himself with anger and fear; he rose from the bed and stood upright, a gaunt, wasted figure. “Take my arm, sir,” said La Cibot, rushing to the rescue, lest Pons should fall. “Pray calm yourself, the gentlemen are gone.” “I want to see the salon....” said the death-stricken man. La Cibot made a sign to the three ravens to take flight. Then she caught up Pons as if he had been a feather, and put him in bed again, in spite of his cries. When she saw that he was quite helpless and exhausted, she went to shut the door on the staircase. The three who had done Pons to death were still on the landing; La Cibot told them to wait. She heard Fraisier say to Magus: “Let me have it in writing, and sign it, both of you. Undertake to pay nine hundred thousand francs in cash for M. Pons’ collection, and we will see about putting you in the way of making a handsome profit.” With that he said something to La Cibot in a voice so low that the others could not catch it, and went down after the two dealers to the porter’s room. “Have they gone, Mme. Cibot?” asked the unhappy Pons, when she came back again. “Gone?... who?” asked she. “Those men.” “What men? There, now, you have seen men,” said she. “You have just had a raving fit; if it hadn’t been for me you would have gone out the window, and now you are still talking of men in the room. Is it always to be like this?” “What! was there not a gentleman here just now, saying that my relatives had sent him?” “Will you still stand me out?” said she. “Upon my word, do you know where you ought to be sent?--To the asylum at Charenton. You see men--” “Elie Magus, Remonencq, and--”