"It is his _charm!_ There is no doubt of it! it is the natural charm with which he is endowed that has begun to work; . . . it has seduced the tailor's wife as Alcibiades seduced Timea, the wife of Agis, King of Lacedemonia . . . and all that . . . without offending virtue, which is yet more beautiful and meritorious! My dear woman, I must acknowledge to you that we have neither pillow, nor curtains, nor blankets." . . . "What a pity!" said Madelaine, in a low voice, and much moved. Then seeing the professor still draped in his toga, she cried: "Well, then, until the bed can be better furnished, give me this coverlet, instead of keeping it round you like a regular carnival dress; at your age, are you not ashamed of such a thing?" and the housewife pulled resolutely at one of the corners of the Dominique's toga. But he, stoutly clutching his garment, exclaimed: "My good woman! listen to me . . . let me alone . . . don't pull so hard . . . it is a question of decency . . . I suppose I must confide in you . . . you are of a respectable age, and moreover the wife of a tailor;" . . . and Dominique added in a low voice: "My breeches, as our fathers called them, being absolutely unfit for service . . . and having no dressing-gown, I am obliged to substitute this kind of Roman mantle for a more suitable garment." "Is it possible?" said Madelaine, letting go the corners of the coverlet. . . . "If this is true, I will send Landry to you this evening." Then she added, in a low voice, stirring the fire into a bright blaze, which threw its cheerful light through the miserable chamber . . . "Is the Marquis asleep? if not, will he drink this?" and she handed him a cup of warm drink. Dominique approached the bed on tip-toe. "How do you feel?" said he. "I am cold . . . my head aches," replied the Marquis, in a feeble voice. "But what is this? How happens it that we have a fire?" "We have a fire because you are _charming_ . . . this good and worthy woman has made it; and here is a nice warm drink, very warm, that you must take; she has also prepared that for you. Come, take courage! Your good star is rising in the very respectable countenance of Dame Landry" . . . The Marquis, suffering with a horrible headache, hardly comprehended a word of what Dominique said, or of what rising star he spoke; nevertheless, he took the cup, drank, and fell into a profound slumber. Then the worthy woman approached the bed, holding her breath; she smoothed the clothes with truly maternal care, and returned to Dominique.