Mounting to his attic, I found my friend reclining with one foot on a chair. Bidding me a hearty welcome, he poured forth his latest news and the history of his accident. “Imagine, my dear fellow--I had hit upon a plan for a nocturnal visit to my divine lady. Everything was arranged--Lélette, my little laundress, lent us a hand. I entered the garden at eleven o’clock, and by the trellis of the rosetree which creeps to her window, I climbed up. You may imagine how my heart beat! For she, my sovereign lady, had promised to stretch out her dainty hand that I might press thereon my kisses. Heavens!--the shutters opened softly--and a hand, my Frédéric, a hand I quickly recognised was not that of my adored, shook down on my upturned nose--the cinders of a pipe! I waited for no more, but sliding to the ground, I fled. I leapt the garden wall, and, confound it--sprained my foot!” He laughed, and I joined him till we nearly dislocated our jaws. I inquired if he had sent for a doctor? That office he informed me had been undertaken by the mother of Lélette--a worthy dame who kept a tavern near the Porte d’Italie. This old body, being a sorceress in her way, had steeped the sprained foot in white wine, muttering weird incantations the while, and, after bandaging the foot tightly, concluded the ceremony by making the sign of the cross three times with her great toe. “So here I am,” said Mathieu, “waiting till Providence sees fit to heal me ... and reading meanwhile the ‘Pâquerettes’ of our friend Roumanille. The time does not hang heavy, for little Lélette brings me my simple fare twice a day, and in default of ortolans I am thankful for sparrows.” Whether Mathieu, well named, as he afterwards was, the “Félibre of the Kisses,” drew on his gorgeous imagination for the whole of this romantic episode, I cannot pretend to say; enough that I repeat it as he told it to me. CHAPTER XI THE RETURN TO THE FARM I had now become a full-blown lawyer, like scores of others, and, as you may have remarked, I did not overwork myself! Proud as a young bird that has found a worm, I returned home, arriving just at the hour of supper, which was being served on the stone table in the open, under the vine trellis, by the last rays of the setting sun. “Good evening, everybody!” I cried. “God bless you, Frédéric.” “Father, mother, it is all right!” I announced, “and I have really finished this time!” “Well, that is a good job!” cried Madeleine, the young Piedmontaise, who served at table. Then, still standing, and before all the labourers, I gave an account of my last undertaking. As I finished, my venerable father remarked: “Well, my boy, I have now done my duty by you. You have had much more schooling than I ever had. It is now for you to choose the road that suits you--I leave you free.” “Hearty thanks, my father,” I answered.