But there was no time for talk. A moment later my uncle was laid, still unconscious, upon his bed, and Jeanne and Madeleine were preparing a mustard-plaster together, in perfect harmony. M. Charnot and I waited in silence for the doctor whom we had sent the office-boy to fetch. M. Charnot studied alternately my deceased aunt’s wreath of orange-blossoms, preserved under a glass in the centre of the chimney-piece, and a painting of fruit and flowers for which it would have been hard to find a buyer at an auction. Our wait for the doctor lasted ten long minutes. We were very anxious, for M. Mouillard showed no sign of returning consciousness. Gradually, however, the remedies began to act upon him. The eyelids fluttered feebly; and just as the doctor opened the door, my uncle opened his eyes. We rushed to his bedside. “My old friend,” said the doctor, “you have had plenty of people to look after you. Let me feel your pulse--rather weak; your tongue? Say a word or two.” “A shock--rather sudden--” said my uncle. The doctor, following the direction of the invalid’s eyes, which were fixed on Jeanne, upright at the foot of the bed, bowed to the young girl, whom he had not at first noticed; turned to me, who blushed like an idiot; then looked again at my uncle, only to see two big tears running down his cheeks. “Yes, I understand; a pretty stiff shock, eh? At our age we should only be stirred by our recollections, emotions of bygone days, something we’re used to; but our children take care to provide us with fresh ones, eh?” M. Mouillard’s breast heaved. “Come, my dear fellow,” proceeded the doctor; “I give you leave to give your future niece one kiss, and that in my presence, that I may be quite sure you don’t abuse the license. After that you must be left quite alone; no more excitement, perfect rest.” Jeanne came forward and raised the invalid’s head. “Will you give me a kiss, uncle?” She offered him her rosy cheek. “With all my heart,” said my uncle as he kissed her; “good girl--dear girl.” Then he melted into tears, and hid his face in his pillow. “And now we must be left alone,” said the doctor. He came down himself in a moment, and gave us an encouraging account of the patient. Hardly had the street door closed behind him when we heard the lawyer’s powerful voice thundering down the stairs. “Charnot!” The old numismatist flew up the flight of stairs. “Did you call me, Monsieur?” “Yes, to invite you to dinner. I couldn’t say the words just now, but it was in my mind.” “It is very kind of you, but we leave at nine o’clock.” “I dine at seven; that’s plenty of time.” “It will tire you too much.” “Tire me? Why, don’t you think I dine everyday?” “I promise to come and inquire after you before leaving.” “I can tell you at once that I am all right again. No, no, it shall never be said that you came all the way from Paris to Bourges only to see me faint. I count upon you and Mademoiselle Jeanne.” “On all three of us?”