"Another first subject, gentlemen," said the prince of science. "Disease, a slow nervous fever; if the receiving surgeon is not mistaken in the symptoms, this is a real godsend. For a long time I have desired a slow nervous fever, for that is not an ordinary complaint amongst the poor. These affections are usually produced after severe trouble in the social position of the subject, and I need hardly add that the higher the position of the patient, the more deep is the disease. It is, moreover, a complaint the more remarkable from its peculiar characteristics. It is traced to the very remotest antiquity, and the writings of Hippocrates have no doubt reference to it. This fever, I repeat, has almost always been produced from the most violent grief, and grief is as old as the world. Yet, strange to say, before the eighteenth century, this disease was never accurately described by any author; it was Huxham, whom the science of medicine of the age so highly honours,--Huxham, I say, who first defined accurately nervous fever; and yet it is a malady of the olden time," added the doctor, jocosely. "Eh, eh, eh! It belongs to the great, antique, and illustrious family of _febris_, whose origin is lost in the darkness of ages. But we may be rejoicing too soon; let us see if really we have the good fortune to possess here a sample of this curious affection; it would be doubly desirable, inasmuch as, for a very long time, I have been anxious to try the effect of the internal use of phosphorus. Yes, gentlemen," continued the doctor, hearing amongst his auditory a kind of shudder of curiosity,--"yes, gentlemen, of phosphorus; it is a singular experiment that I wish to try, and a bold one, and but _audaces fortuna juvat_, and the opportunity would be excellent. We will first try if the subject offers in all parts of the body, and particularly in the chest, that miliary eruption, so symptomatic according to Huxham, and you will assure yourselves, by feeling the subject, of the kind of uneven surface which this eruption produces. But do not let us sell the skin of our bear before we have killed it," added the prince of science, who was decidedly in very high spirits. And he shook Mlle. de Fermont's shoulder very gently, in order to wake her. The young girl started and opened her large eyes, hollowed by the malady. It is impossible to describe her amaze and alarm. Whilst a crowd of men surrounded her bed, all fixing their eyes upon her, she felt the doctor's hand gliding under the quilt into her bed, in order to take her hand and feel her pulse. Mlle. de Fermont, collecting all her strength, in a cry of anguish, exclaimed: "Mother! Help! Mother! Mother!"