Michel told himself that it was more than probable she would have waited, and he felt in his heart, if not the warm satisfactions of love, at any rate the soft ticklings of vanity. XII. NOBLESSE OBLIGE. When the doctor entered the room Bertha was beside the patient. The first thing that met M. Roger's eyes was her graceful form, like those of the angels in German legends bending forward to receive the souls of the dying. He knew her at once, for he was rarely called to the cottages of the poor that he did not find either her or her sister between death and the dying. "Oh, doctor," she said, "come quick! poor Tinguy is delirious." The patient was under much excitement. The doctor went to him. "Come, friend," said he, "be calm." "Let me alone! let me alone!" cried Tinguy. "I must get up; they want me at Montaigu." "No, dear Tinguy," said Bertha, "no; they are not expecting you just yet." "Yes, mademoiselle; yes, they are! It was for to-night. Who will go from house to house and carry the news if I'm not there?" "Hush, Tinguy, hush!" said Bertha; "remember you are ill, and Doctor Roger is here." "Doctor Roger, is one of us, mademoiselle; we can talk before him. He knows they are waiting for me; he knows I must get up at once. I must go to Montaigu." Doctor Roger and the young girl looked at each other. "_Massa_," said the doctor. "_Marseille_," replied Bertha. And then, with a spontaneous movement, they shook hands. Bertha returned to the patient. "Yes," she said, bending to his ear, "you are right. The doctor is one of us; but there is some one else here who is not." She lowered her voice so that only Tinguy could hear. "And that," she added, "is the young Baron Michel." "Ah, true," said the goodman. "Don't let him hear anything. Courtin is a traitor. But if I don't go to Montaigu, who will?" "Jean Oullier. Don't worry, Tinguy." "Oh! if Jean Oullier will go," said the sick man,--"if Jean Oullier will go I need not. His foot's good, and his eye true; he can fire straight, he can!" And he burst out laughing; but in that laugh he seemed to expend his last vital strength and fell backward on the bed. The young baron had listened to this dialogue (of which he could only hear portions) without in the least understanding it. All he distinctly made out was, "Courtin is a traitor," and from the direction of the young girl's eye as she spoke with the peasant he was certain that they were talking of him. His heart contracted; they had some secret in which they would not let him share. He went up to Bertha. "Mademoiselle," he said, "if I am in your way, or if you have no further need of me, say the word and I retire." He spoke in a tone of so much pain that Bertha was touched.