“The black fever! the black fever!” cried the old woman. “I know it well. It’s most like a plague. I know it. But I know the cure-ha, ha! Come along now, feather-legs, what are you staring there for? Hold that jug while I pour the darling liquor in. Ha, ha! Crazy Joan hasn’t lived for nothing. They have to come to her; the great folks have to come to her!” So she meandered on, filling the jug. Later, in the warm dusk, they travelled up to Dalgrothe Mountain, and came to Valmond’s tent. By the couch knelt Parpon, watching the laboured breathing of the sick man. When he saw Madame Degardy, he gave a growl of joy, and made way for her. She pushed him back with her stick contemptuously, looked Valmond over, ran her fingers down his cheek, felt his throat, and at last held his restless hand. Elise, with the quick intelligence of love, stood ready. The old woman caught the jug from her, swung it into the hollow of her arm, poured the cup half full, and motioned the girl to lift up Valmond’s head. Elise raised it to her bosom, leaning her face down close to his. Madame Degardy instantly pushed back her head. “Don’t get his breath--that’s death, idiot!” she said, and began to pour the liquid into Valmond’s mouth very slowly. It was a tedious process at first, but at length he began to swallow naturally, and finished the cup. There was no change for an hour, and then he became less restless. After another cupful, his eyes half opened. Within an hour a perspiration came, and he was very quiet, and sleeping easily. Parpon crouched near the door, watching it all with deep, piercing eyes. Madame Degardy never moved from her place, but stood shaking her head and muttering. At last Lagroin came, and whisperingly asked after his chief; then, seeing him in a healthy and peaceful sleep, he stooped and kissed the hand lying upon the blanket. “Beloved sire! Thank the good God!” he said. Soon after he had gone, there was a noise of tramping about the tent, and then a suppressed cheer, which was fiercely stopped by Parpon, and the soldiers of the Household Troops scattered to their tents. “What’s that?” asked Valmond, opening his eyes bewilderedly. “Your soldiers, sire,” answered the dwarf. Valmond smiled languidly. Then he saw Madame Degardy and Elise. “I am very sleepy, dear friends,” he said, with a courteous, apologetic gesture, and closed his eyes. Presently they opened again. “My snuff-box--in my pocket,” he said to the old woman, waving a hand to where his uniform hung from the tent-pole; “it is for you, madame.” She understood, smiled grimly, felt in a waistcoat pocket, found the snuff-box, and, squatting on the ground like a tailor, she took two pinches, and sat holding the antique silver box in her hand. “Crazy Joan’s no fool, dear lad,” she said at last, and took another pinch, and knowingly nodded her head again and again, while he slept soundly. CHAPTER XIV “Lights Out!”