“Mercy, no!” “You ought to poultice her. I frequently suffer from colds in the early spring, and Mme. Plon declares that I would not be alive but for her poultices. It will cut it short. Have you a bronchitis kettle?” “No; she hasn’t got bronchitis; she has only got a cough and a pain in the side.” “No matter; it would stop her from getting bronchitis. You ought also to give her sweet spirits of niter. I assure you, Toto, you never can tell what a cold turns to; and this girl, should she get really ill, may keep her bed for a month, and then where would you be? In cases like this, we ought to act on the principle of the firemen, who play on unconsumed buildings in order to prevent them from catching fire. If I were you, I would insist on a doctor. Well, well, I do not press the point—she is not mine. Let us talk on other things. Have you heard that Pelisson has cut De Nani adrift? No, of course you have not.” “How can I know what is going on in this place?” “True; but, even so, it only occurred last night. De Nani seems quite resigned, but I would not wonder if he played some trick upon our friend Pelisson. He wanted your address.” “Pelisson?” “No, De Nani,” said Gaillard, who almost bit his tongue for letting this cat out of its bag. “I hope you did not give it to him.” Gaillard shrugged his shoulders. “For that old man is my evil star. I do not believe I would have been here now but for his insult that night. You remember? Well, I am going back to the atelier.” “How much money have you left, Toto?” “I have only five hundred francs.” “You had better let me bring you some more. Give me a check. You have not your check-book? Well, write one out for five hundred francs on a piece of paper, and I will take it and cash it for you, and bring you the money to-morrow.” “You will not turn up again if I let you have all that.” “Toto!” “I know you so well. See here, what time will you promise to turn up, if I give you my check?” Gaillard debated with himself. “I will be at your atelier at one o’clock, punctually.” “You promise?” “I promise.” CHAPTER II. THE STORY OF FANTOFF AND BASTICHE. They went back to the atelier, and Toto, who had not breakfasted, got together some wine and bread and cold stewed beef. Gaillard sat down to table also, to keep him company. Then the poet ventured into the bedroom to talk to the sick girl and cheer her up. Célestin was lying on her side, facing the door, with very bright eyes and flushed cheeks. On the wall over the bed hung a colored print of our Lord Jesus carrying a lamb; she had brought it with her from her room near the Rue de Babylone. An orange lay on the quilt, one of six brought by Garnier that morning; she had eaten the other five and swallowed the pulp, an act which would have caused a physician to shudder. On a rush-bottomed chair near by lay the lozenges given to her by Mme. Liard,—redoubtable lozenges, according to the label on the box,—also the sugar candy of Garnier.