OUR father and mother held a council of war, in which the resolution was taken that we should be sent away. The family owned, on the uplands of one of the high valleys, a chalet which we called the Alpette, standing by itself in a clearing in the pines. In favourable seasons we used to spend a month of the long vacation there. A dilapidated stagecoach used to climb to the nearest village in four or five hours. It was not easy to get supplies up there, and we should have to be content with frugal and modest fare; but the air was redolent of balsam, and we should be beyond all danger of contagion. “The epidemic is spreading,” father told us. “You will all go to-morrow morning except your mother, who will not leave me.” Perhaps he had resolved to remain alone, but had encountered her refusal. “That’s an excellent idea,” said grandfather approvingly. “We are good for nothing here, but rather, in the way.” “Well! I for one shall not go,” declared Aunt Deen, shaking her head. “I am a part of the building.” Father urged that she had her brother to take care of, but this argument was by no means favourably received. “He can take care of himself well enough. He is perfectly well. And besides, Louise will look after him.” Louise urged her desire to stay. We thought she was joking, for she said it laughingly, but she firmly insisted. Couldn’t she be of service, visiting the sick, nursing them even? Wasn’t every willing person needed? Between her and Aunt Deen a debate arose, the unselfishness of which was at the time unperceived by me; but Aunt Deen insisted so hard that she carried her point. Encouraged by this example, I signified to my parents my fixed intention not to leave town, but to play my part in it also. This was by way of affirming my personality--my personality of barely eighteen years!--much more than as a boast of courage. The idea of death, either my own or that of the others, had not occurred to me. I did not apprehend the slightest danger. No doubt father was the most exposed, both by his profession and his functions, but to me he seemed immortal. I was simply thinking of gaining a little importance. Father listened to me patiently, and then replied that if I had begun to study medicine, as he had hoped, he should not have hesitated to make use of me, notwithstanding his affection and his fears; it would have been a right which I might have claimed; but that having taken another course, I had no good reason for remaining in a vitiated atmosphere, where I could be of no use, at the risk of succumbing to the disease any day. He thanked me for my offer, but could not accept it. The mountain air would be good for my health, which would improve up there: I was somewhat delicate, I should return stronger. The calm refusal simply exasperated me. I discerned in it a contempt that was not to be endured, and I persisted in claiming the post as if my honour was involved.