Jack went down-stairs, dazed and stupefied, repeating to himself, "In a week! in a week!" The street door was open; he rushed out, bare-headed, just as he was, dashed through the village to the house of his friends, and meeting the Doctor, who was just going out, informed him in a few words of what had taken place. Monsieur Rivals was indignant. "A workman! They want to make a workman of you? Is that what they call looking after your prospects in life? Wait a moment. I am going to speak myself to monsieur your step-father." The villagers who saw them pass by, the worthy Doctor gesticulating and talking out loud, and little Jack, bare-headed and breathless from running, said, "There is certainly some one very ill at Les Aulnettes." No one was ill, most assuredly. When the Doctor arrived they were sitting down to table; for on account of the capricious appetite of the master of the house, and as in all places where _ennui_ reigns supreme, the hours for the meals were constantly being changed. The faces around were cheerful; Charlotte could even be heard humming on the stairs as she came down from her room. "I should like to say a word to you, M. d'Argenton," said old Rivals with quivering lips. The poet twirled his moustache:-- "Well, Doctor, sit down there. They shall give you a plate and you can say your word while you eat your breakfast." "No, thank you, I am not hungry; besides, what I have to say to you as well as to Madame"--he bowed to Charlotte, who had just come in--"is strictly private." "I think I can guess your errand," said D'Argenton, who did not care for a _tete-a-tete_ conversation with the Doctor. "It is about the child, is it not?" "You are right; it is about the child." "In that case you can speak. These gentlemen know the circumstances, and my actions are always too loyal and too disinterested for me to fear the light of day." "But, my dear!" Charlotte ventured to say, shocked for many reasons at the idea of this discussion before strangers. "You can speak, Doctor," said D'Argenton coldly. Standing upright in front of the table, the Doctor began:-- "Jack has just told me that you intend to send him as an apprentice to the iron works at Indret. Is this serious? Come!" "Quite serious, my dear Doctor." "Take care," pursued M. Rivals, restraining his anger; "that child has not been brought up for so hard a life. At a growing age you are going to throw him out of his element into new surroundings, a new atmosphere. His health, his life are involved. He has none of the requisites needed to bear this. He is not strong enough." "Oh! allow me, my dear colleague," put in Dr. Hirsch solemnly. M. Rivals shrugged his shoulders, and without even looking at him, went on:-- "It is I who tell you so, Madame." He pointedly addressed himself to Charlotte, who was singularly embarrassed by this appeal to her repressed feelings.