“Don’t be uneasy about your Mimi, mademoiselle; he is helping to bury the dead, and is even superintending the entire force of gravediggers. His zeal is magnificent; he multiplies himself, he is at every funeral. As for The Hanged, I think he is down with the fever.” “I will go and see him,” said Aunt Deen simply, whereupon her brother looked at her with surprise, and some disapprobation. But the abbé, with incomparable ease, had already passed from special misfortunes to general calamities. The contagion would be sure to spread, it would not be checked until it had reached Paris. It would decimate the capital, that sink of all iniquities, and would constrain politicians to reflect. It would be as good as a war, in the matter of moral renovation. And the lilies would bloom again. “They will bloom again,” Aunt Deen did not fail to repeat gravely. The description of these approaching misfortunes affected grandfather, who changed the subject of conversation. “I say, Abbé, if you will come to the Alpette to see us, we will give you some Satan bolets, and even if you don’t bring too much bad news, some negro head bolets, which are at least eatable and of a savoury flavour. Or rather, no! don’t put yourself out to come. There is no disinfecting apparatus up there, and you would be capable of contaminating us all.” The next morning a two-horse brake, ordered especially for us, came to take us and our parcels. Father superintended the embarkation, and hastened it, for he was being called upon from all quarters at once. At the house, whenever any difficulty arose he had always been immediately sought for, all calling in one voice, _Monsieur Michel_! _Where is Monsieur Michel_! In these days, all through the city, the rallying cry was, _Monsieur Rambert_! or more briefly, _the doctor_, or _the mayor_. “Oho!” said grandfather lightly, “he has enough to give orders to now.” Grandfather climbed into the vehicle first, with his instruments, which he would not let go, though the violin case was much in the way. Like little Jamie, he had all the gaiety of a school boy on vacation. Never had he seemed so to feel the attractions of the Alpette. Louise, on the contrary, and Nicola, imitating her sister, whom she admired, manifested an emotion which for my part I deemed excessive. They clung to our parents with tears, as if it were a case of prolonged absence. “Come, children,” said father, “make haste and have no fears.” My own adieus to him were of marked coldness, because of the scene of the previous day. He had constrained me to obedience, and had wounded my pride; I could not forget it so soon; dignity obliged me to assume an offended air.