"What a scarecrow, old ducky! Isn't he?" whispered Anastasie; "but, la! to my eyes every man looks as hideous as this dreadful blind creature in comparison with you, and that is why no one can ever boast of my having granted him the least liberty,--don't you see, Alfred?" "I tell you what, Anastasie," replied Pipelet, "I shall dream of this frightful figure. I know he will give me an attack of nightmare. I won't eat tripe for supper till I have quite forgot him." "And how do you find yourself now, friend?" asked the doctor of the Schoolmaster; but he asked in vain, no attempt was made to reply. "Come, come!" continued the doctor, tapping him lightly on the shoulder, "I am sure you hear what I say; try to make me a sign at least, or speak,--something tells me you can if you will!" But the only answer made to this address was by the Schoolmaster suddenly drooping his head, while from the sightless eyes rolled a tear. "He weeps!" exclaimed the doctor. "Poor creature!" murmured Germain, in a compassionate tone. The Schoolmaster shuddered; again he heard the voice of his son, breathing forth commiseration for his wretched, though unknown parent. "What is the matter?" inquired the doctor; "what is it grieves you?" But, without taking any notice of him, the Schoolmaster hid his face with his hands. "We shall make nothing of him," said the doctor. Then, perceiving how painfully this scene appeared to affect Madame Georges, he added, "Now, then, madame, we will go to Morel, and, if my expectations are fulfilled, you will be amply rewarded for the pain you have felt hitherto, in witnessing the joy of so good a husband and father in being restored to his family." With these words the doctor, followed by the party that had accompanied him, proceeded on his way, leaving the Schoolmaster a prey to his own distracting thoughts, the most bitter of which was the certainty of having heard his son's voice, and that of his wife, for the last time. Aware of the just horror with which he inspired them, the misery, shame, and affright with which they would have heard the disclosure of his name made him prefer a thousand deaths to such a revelation. One only, but great, consolation remained in the certainty of having awakened the pity of his son; and, with this thought to comfort him, the miserable being determined to endure his sufferings with repentance and submission. "We are now about to pass by the yard appropriated to the use of the idiot patients," said the doctor, stopping before a large grated door, through which the poor idiotic beings might be seen huddled together, with every appearance of the most distressing imbecility. Spite of Madame Georges's recent agitation, she could not refrain from casting a glance through the railing. "Poor creatures!" said she, in a gentle, pitying voice; "how dreadful to think their sufferings are hopeless! for I presume there is no remedy for such an affliction as theirs?"