There came into the doctor’s voice at this moment a note of intense feeling; for these were matters of which evidence came to him every day. “I tell you, sir, that such people are deserving of sympathy, because they are suffering. If they have committed a fault, they have at least the plea that they are expiating it. No, sir, let me hear no more of that hypocrisy. Recall your own youth, sir. That which afflicts your son-in-law, you have deserved it just as much as he--more than he, perhaps. Therefore, have pity on him; have for him the toleration which the unpunished criminal ought to have for the criminal less fortunate than himself upon whom the penalty has fallen. Is that not so?” Monsieur Loches had been listening to this discourse with the feeling of a thief before the bar. There was nothing that he could answer. “Sir,” he stammered, “as you present this thing to me--” “But am I not right?” insisted the doctor. “Perhaps you are,” the other admitted. “But--I cannot say all that to my daughter, to persuade her to go back to her husband.” “You can give her other arguments,” was the answer. “What arguments, in God’s name?” “There is no lack of them. You will say to her that a separation would be a misfortune for all; that her husband is the only one in the world who would be devoted enough to help her save her child. You will say to her that out of the ruins of her first happiness she can build herself another structure, far stronger. And, sir, you will add to that whatever your good heart may suggest--and we will arrange so that the next child of the pair shall be sound and vigorous.” Monsieur Loches received this announcement with the same surprise that George himself had manifested. “Is that possible?” he asked. The doctor cried: “Yes, yes, yes--a thousand times yes! There is a phrase which I repeat on every occasion, and which I would wish to post upon the walls. It is that syphilis is an imperious mistress, who only demands that one should recognize her power. She is terrible for those who think her insignificant, and gentle with those who know how dangerous she is. You know that kind of mistress--who is only vexed when she is neglected. You may tell this to your daughter--you will restore her to the arms of her husband, from whom she has no longer anything to fear, and I will guarantee that you will be a happy grandfather two years from now.” Monsieur Loches at last showed that he was weakened in his resolution. “Doctor,” he said, “I do not know that I can ever go so far as forgiveness, but I promise you that I will do no irreparable act, and that I will not oppose a reconciliation if after the lapse of some time--I cannot venture to say how long--my poor child should make up her mind to a reconciliation.” “Very good,” said the other. “But let me add this: If you have another daughter, take care to avoid the fault which you committed when you married off the first.” “But,” said the old man, “I did not know.”