"Sir-r!" replied Pipelet, gravely bowing. "Men should help each other in this sublunary world, and remember that all are brothers; added to which your unfortunate patient was the very cream and essence of an honest man, and therefore do I respect him." "If you are not afraid, madame," said Doctor Herbin to Madame Georges, "of the sight of the poor creatures here, we will cross some of the yards leading to that part of the building where I have deemed it advisable to remove Morel, instead of allowing him to accompany the others to the farm as usual." "The farm!" exclaimed Madame Georges. "Have you a farm here?" "Your surprise is perfectly natural, madame. Yes, we have a farm, the produce of which is most serviceable to the establishment, although entirely worked by the patients." "Is it possible? Can you make these lunatics work, and allow them to be at liberty while they do so?" "Certainly; exercise, the calm tranquillity of the fields, with the aspect of nature, are among our most certain means of cure. Only one keeper goes with them, and we have rarely had an instance of any patient endeavouring to get away; they are delighted to be employed, and the trifling reward they gain serves still to improve their condition, by enabling them to purchase different little indulgences. But we have reached the gate conducting to one of these courts." Then perceiving a slight appearance of alarm on the countenance of Madame Georges, the doctor added, "Lay aside all apprehension, madame; in a very few minutes you will feel as tranquil as I do myself." "I follow you, sir. Come, my children." "Anastasie," whispered Pipelet, "when I think that, had the persecutions of that odious Cabrion continued, your poor dear Alfred might have become mad, like the unhappy wretches we are about to behold, clad in the most wild and singular state, chained up by the middle, or confined in dens like the wild beasts in the 'Jardin des Plantes--'" "Oh, bless your dear old heart, don't talk of such a thing! La! I've heard say that them as has gone mad for love are for all the world like born devils directly they see a woman; dashing against the bars of their dens, and making all sorts of horrid noises, till the keepers are forced to flog them till they drop, or else turn great taps of water on their heads before they can quiet them." "Anastasie," rejoined Pipelet, gravely, "I desire you will not go too close to these dreadful creatures, an accident so soon happens."