"And Socrates? did not that sage, that great philosopher, abandon everything . . . to follow Alcibiades!!! Only as it is not so cold in Athens as in Paris . . . Socrates had not the pain of seeing his pupil shivering with cold. But, listen to me! You had better lie down . . . take off your wet clothes,--you will be warmer in bed." "You are right, Dominique; I do not know,--but I think I am feverish". . . "No! not so bad as that! to see you fall sick!" Then, turning with an angry air, Dominique cried, shaking his first at the door by which Madelaine had gone out: "'Tis you, you cursed hag, who have brought this new misfortune upon my unhappy pupil, with your indiscreet clamorings! I'm sorry now that I did not put you out neck and heels . . ." In the midst of this apostrophe the door opened, and Dominique saw, with astonishment, a porter bringing in two enormous faggots, and some packages of kindlings. . . . "You are mistaken; this wood is not for us, my lad," said Dominique, with a sigh. "Isn't it here that the Marquis of Létorière lives, sir?" "Yes." "Well, the wood is to come here. . . . The great woman in a brown cloak said that she was coming with a brazier, and something to make a nice little lunch for the Marquis." "The great woman in a brown cloak?" demanded Dominique. "Yes, sir, and she has paid for the wood." "The wood is paid for. Do you hear that, my worthy pupil? Now you shall have some fire," . . . cried Dominique, joyfully turning towards Létorière, who, seized with a sudden attack of fever, had gone to bed. Happily Dame Landry soon came, and confusedly explained the enigma. That worthy woman had in one hand a kettle of boiling water, and in the other some lighted charcoal on a shovel. When the porter had gone, Dame Landry, seeing the paleness of the Marquis, cried out: "Poor young gentleman! he has a fever, that's certain . . . the cold has taken hold of him, and I . . . who was not ashamed to stop and gossip while he was shivering. . . . But come, come . . . don't stand there looking at me like a wax figure, my dear sir. Lay the wood properly in the fireplace; light it, while I prepare something he can eat. Have you a clean cup?" Then approaching the bed, and feeling of the thin cover, . . . "Gracious goodness! . . . he is not warm enough! . . . go and get two or three warm blankets . . . and his head . . . that is too low . . . he needs a pillow . . . go and get one. And some curtains! How is it that this alcove has no curtains? Nor the windows either? You see that daylight is not good for the eyes of the young Marquis. . . . Go and get them,--I can't do everything myself!" The honest professor, to whom these conflicting and hurried orders were given, stood astonished before Madelaine, endeavoring to understand the cause of this wonderful change. Suddenly he cried, speaking to himself: