I believed that, if I could embrace my little Henriette, I should be entirely cured at once. I determined to go to see her before leaving Paris, and to take her in my arms without her mother’s knowledge; and even if her mother should know it, had I not the right to kiss my daughter? I would be patient until then. The doctor came again to see me. He was a man whom I did not know; he seemed abrupt and cold; he talked little, but he neither made a show of his knowledge nor used long words to his patients. I like doctors of that sort. After a few days I was much better, and I began to recover my strength. Pettermann was still in my room; he had told me to dismiss him as soon as he annoyed me, and I had kept him. I had become accustomed to his services and attentions. I could not doubt his attachment, for he had given me proofs of it. One especially convincing proof was that he had not drunk too much a single time since he had constituted himself my nurse. It was not selfish interest that guided him, for by refusing my purse when I went up to his room he had proved that he did not care for money. I had noticed also that he was neither prying nor talkative. I indulged in all these reflections one evening as I lay upon a couch. Pettermann was seated by the window; he said nothing, for he never tried to converse when I did not speak to him. Sometimes we passed several hours in succession without a word; that was another quality which I liked in him. “Pettermann.” “Monsieur.” “Are you very much attached to your tailor’s trade?” “Faith, monsieur, I have had so little work lately that I shall end by forgetting my trade. And then, I may as well admit that I have never been able to distinguish myself at it, and I am sick of it!” “As soon as I have fully recovered my strength, I propose to leave Paris and travel, for a very long time perhaps. If I should suggest to you to go with me, to remain with me, not as a servant, but as a confidential friend and trusted companion, how would that suit you?” “Suit me! prout! that would suit me completely, monsieur. I will be your groom, your valet, whatever you choose; for I am sure that you will never treat me in a way to humiliate me.” “Of course not. But, Pettermann, you have one failing----” “I know what you mean; I get drunk. That is true; but it never happened to me except when I had nothing to do. You will keep me busy, and that will correct my habit of drinking. However, I don’t mean to swear to give up wine entirely, for I should break my oath. If you take me with you, you must allow me to get drunk once a month. I ask only that.” “Once a month, all right; but no more!” “No, monsieur.” “It’s a bargain! You will stay with me. You have nothing to keep you in Paris?” “Bless my soul, no, monsieur; I have nothing but my wife.”