“Nothing. An absolute rest. Eat, sleep, nothing besides. If you could go and spend a few weeks at Grandbois.” Mora shrugged his shoulders: “And the Chamber--and the Council--and--? Nonsense! how is it possible?” “In any case, M. le Duc, you must put the brake on; as somebody said, renounce absolutely--” Jenkins was interrupted by the entry of the servant on duty, who, discreetly, on tiptoe, like a dancing-master, came in to deliver a letter and a card to the Minister of State, who was still shivering before the fire. At the sight of that satin-gray envelope of a peculiar shape the Irishman started involuntarily, while the duke, having opened and glanced over his letter, rose with new vigor, his cheeks wearing that light flush of artificial health which all the heat of the stove had not been able to bring there. “My dear doctor, I must at any price--” The servant still stood waiting. “What is it? Ah, yes; this card. Take the visitor to the gallery. I shall be there directly.” The gallery of the Duke de Mora, open to visitors twice a week, was for himself, as it were, a neutral ground, a public place where he could see any one without binding or compromising himself in any way. Then, the servant having withdrawn: “Jenkins, _mon bon_, you have already worked miracles for me. I ask you for one more. Double the dose of my pearls; find something, whatever you will. But I must be feeling young by Sunday. You understand me, altogether young.” And on the little letter in his hand, his fingers, warm once more and feverish, clinched themselves with a thrill of eager desire. “Take care, M. le Duc,” said Jenkins, very pale and with compressed lips. “I have no wish to alarm you unnecessarily with regard to the feeble state of your health, but it becomes my duty--” Mora gave a smile of pretty arrogance: “Your duty and my pleasure are two separate things, my worthy friend. Let me burn the candle at both ends, if it amuses me. I have never had so fine an opportunity as this time.” He started: “The duchess!” A door concealed behind a curtain had just opened to give passage to a merry little head with fair curls in disorder, quite fairy-like amid the laces and frills of a dressing-jacket worthy of a princess: “What do I hear? You have not gone out? But do scold him, doctor. He is wrong, isn’t he, to have so many fancies about himself? Look at him--a picture of health!” “There--you see,” said the duke, laughing, to the Irishman. “You will not come in, duchess?” “No, I am going to carry you off, on the contrary. My uncle d’Estaing has sent me a cage full of tropical birds. I want to show them to you. Wonderful creatures, of all colours, with little eyes like black pearls. And so sensitive to cold--nearly as much so as you are.” “Let us go and have a look at them,” said the minister. “Wait for me, Jenkins. I shall be back in a moment.”