She nodded, forcing a smile. Her smile was girlish still, and somehow it looked to him strangely poignant on her altered face. His gaze was blurred, as he muffled himself in his shabby cloak, and set forth through the sleet, to be the dashing hero. A child came towards him, calling papers, and he thought, "If only the news were that Germany sued for peace! That would be the best medicine for her." And on the morning before the birthday she was _not_ "in a show again;" she was feeling so much worse that she clung to Picq, alarmed. Picq was alarmed, too, though he tried to hide it. "Look here, I tell you what!" he exclaimed, in the most confident tone that he could summon. "We are going to call in a big man and get you cured without any more delay! That's what we're going to do. This chap is too slow for me. I dare say his medicines might do the trick eventually, but it does not suit me to wait so long. No, it does not suit me. I am not going to see you worried like this while he potters about as if time were no object. We shall call in a big man and put an end to the nuisance at once. I wish to heaven I had done it before. I am going now. I am going to the chap's house to tell him plainly I am not content." "Mais non, mais non!" demurred Nanette piteously. "It would cost such a lot, chéri--what are you thinking about? I shall get all right without that. You mustn't take any notice of me; I am a coward--I have never been used to feeling ill, you see--but I shall get all right without that." "I care nothing what it costs. That is my intention," declared Picq. "And it will not cost such a great sum either. Anyhow, whether it is forty francs or five hundred, my mind is made up. I am going to him this moment to tell him I want the highest authority in Paris. Now, be tranquil, mignonne. Try to sleep. We have chosen the shortest course at last--we were bien bêtes not to take it at the start--and in a week at the outside you will be yourself again." Never in her life had Nanette contemplated spending forty francs all at once on a physician. She knew she would be unable to sleep for the awfulness of such expense. But, if his prescription cured her promptly and she could earn a salary again soon---- "What a weight I have become to thee, my little husband!" she faltered, stroking his hand. "Hush! Thou _wilt_ sleep while I am away, pauvrette?" asked Picq tenderly. She closed her eyes, smiling--to lie and grieve over the "weight she had become to him" when he had gone; and Picq went apace to the doctor's. When the motive for the inopportune call was explained, the doctor evidently resented the suggestion that his own treatment of the patient could be bettered. "Another opinion, monsieur? Parfaitement--if you desire it." His shrug was eloquent. "But your wife has only to continue with the medicine I have prescribed----"