"Where one cannot inspire love," said the doctor, "which one may reasonably expect, then terror and the due punishment of the object must suffice." "I give you my word of honour, I know nothing of the little fool!" said the Marshal blushing. "It is very possible," answered Vila, "that you do not know exactly in which dungeon she languishes, since within the last few years we have considerably increased these establishments." "Sir!" exclaimed the Marshal,--"I think, my Lord Intendant, we may dismiss this dotard, for it is in vain to hope to hear a word of sense from him. You may thank the Lord Marquis and his zealous intercession, or rather his caprice, not to suffer himself to be cured by any one else, that your insolence, which affects madness, is permitted to go from hence unchastised. But beware that you hold no correspondence with the rebels and suspected persons, or we shall speak again together and then in a higher tone." "As it may please you to order it," said the doctor, and retired with a low bow. His carriage stood at the door, he went however first into the stables of the court to seek an old servant, whom he intended to take to St. Hypolite with him, the latter advanced groaning, limping and with head and arm bound up. "Coachman," cried Vila to his driver, "make room on the box for this old servant of mine." In the mean while Colonel Julien came down the street; "What sort of merchandise are you carrying off with you there?" asked he, scrutinising the wounded man. "My superannuated Conrad," replied the doctor; "the stupid knave found himself in a village yesterday and took it into his head to engage in the conversion of a Camisard, who in the true rebel fashion began to deal out blows, my decrepid enthusiast would let neither his king, nor his Lord God be outraged and on that account is so bedecked, that our Phylax at home will scarcely recognise him again." "Look," said the Colonel, "the poor cripple trembles so, that he cannot attain the high coach-box. He does not appear accustomed to such a place. Help him a little, reverend priest." The sturdy vicar of St. Sulpice, who had pressed forward, helped up the old man with arms and shoulders. "Accustomed, or not accustomed!" cried Vila, vexedly, "he may thank heaven, that I take him with me at all. A knave, who at his years still addicts himself to pugilism, is good for nothing in my peaceable house. Times, indeed, seem strange enough, so that the rabble will soon, perhaps, assert their pretensions to ride with me in my carriage." "You would have room enough," said the Colonel, taking leave of the doctor, who had already seated himself at his ease.-- "Now, drive on!" said Vila, "and not too fast, particularly over the stones, for all my sides, and my head into the bargain, are as if they were crushed, and take care that that old spectre does not perchance tumble from the box,--Adieu, reverend priest!"--The coach drove down the street and out through the gate.