"What do you think of my second method, Rochebrune?"

"Excellent; indeed, I think that it's better than the other, for it requires less preparation."

"That depends. We have creditors who will defy smallpox, yellow fever—aye, the plague itself. But I must get up and liberate my squirrel, and return your ten francs."

"I will take back the ten francs, which would be of no great use to you; but if you would like this five-hundred-franc note, which I put in my pocket with a view to settling with my tailor, why, don't hesitate to say so; I shall be glad to do you a service."

Balloquet forgot that he was in his shirt; he leaped on my neck, crying:

"Would I like it! I should say so! I wouldn't have asked for it, but you offer it! You're a friend indeed! Let me hear anyone say that there are no such things as friends nowadays! Dear old Rochebrune! And you don't know me very well, either."

"I know you well enough to be happy that I am able to oblige you."

"Oh! by the way, I ought to warn you of one thing: I can't say just when I shall be able to pay you."

"Don't let that disturb you! You may pay me when fortune smiles on you again, when you have a profitable practice."

"Oh! as for that, you will be the first person paid. So I'm in funds once more! Vive la joie!—No more potatoes! I've had enough of them; I've been stuffed with them for a long time. But I won't tell SatinÉ that my pockets are lined, for she has always some invention or other in her head, and it's too risky."

I was about to take leave of Balloquet, who was just pulling on his trousers, when we heard three little taps at his door. The young doctor listened and smiled.

"What sort of a farce are you going to play this time?" I asked him.

"Oh! this is no creditor, my dear fellow, I am sure. The creditor knocks noisily; but those soft little taps—I'll bet that it's someone to consult me."

He went into the outer room and called:

"Who's there?"

"Someone who wishes to consult monsieur le mÉdÉcin," replied a soft, female voice.

"I will leave you," I said, taking my hat; but Balloquet detained me.

"Do stay," he said. "Thus far you have seen nothing but the unpleasant features of my position as a debtor; it is only fair that you should be a witness also of the advantages we owe to our profession. This is some girl to consult me. It is sometimes quite amusing to listen. They conceal nothing from their doctor; they tell him some things that they certainly wouldn't tell their lovers."

"But she won't dare to say anything before a witness, will she?"

"It will be enough to tell her that you're a confrÈre; then she'll look on you as another myself. If there were ten of us here, and I should say they were all doctors, she'd take them all for her confidants."

"In that case, I will stay and listen to the consultation."

I resumed my seat, while Balloquet donned his dressing gown, and opened the door himself.

The doctor was not mistaken; it was a young girl, with a costume halfway between that of a grisette and a nursery maid. Light hair, an attractive face, eyes cast down like an innocent schoolgirl, but with a certain twist in her gait which bore no trace of innocence.

She made a courtesy, then glanced at me, and halted.

"Monsieur is a confrÈre, another myself," said Balloquet; "so you may speak before him without fear; indeed, you may be the gainer by so doing, for two opinions are better than one. Be seated, mademoiselle, and tell me what brings you here."

The girl courtesied again, and tried to smile; but in the midst of the smile, her features contracted with pain; she pressed her lips together, clenched her hands, and leaned against the desk.

"Are you in pain?" asked Balloquet, pushing a chair toward her.

She seemed to breathe with difficulty, but she smiled again, saying:

"It's over now; I hope it won't amount to anything, but it makes me feel very bad at times."

"Tell me what it is."

"I am a lacemaker, monsieur; but there hasn't been much doing in that trade for some time, and one earns so little! And I admit that I'm a good deal of an idler; when I'm sent on an errand, I like to stop in front of the caricature shops and confectioners; and I like the theatre too, and balls. It's such good fun to dance at Mabille, at Valentino's, and at the CitÉ-d'Antin. In fact, I like a good time, I don't deny it."

"That's characteristic of your age, mademoiselle; indeed, we all like a good time. Everyone enjoys it according to his tastes. At twenty, it's love and clothes; at thirty, money; at forty, ambition and titles; later, cards and rest. But at every age, when we seek to gratify our desires, we are always after a good time. Go on."

"But, monsieur, when you want to enjoy yourself, and haven't any money, it's very hard!"

"Sometimes; it depends on the sort of enjoyment you want."

"One night, I was walking on the Champs-ÉlysÉes with a friend of mine, who's a good deal of an idler, like myself, and likes good things to eat, too. As we passed a cafÉ, we looked at the people eating ices at the tables outside, and my friend said: 'I've never eaten any of that! None of the lovers I've ever had have been good for more than a bottle of cider or beer. Oh, yes! there was one who ordered punch; but he drank it all and didn't leave me half a glass!'—'I don't know what ices taste like, either,' said I; 'but I'd like right well to try one.'—At that, a fat man behind us, who was listening to us, I suppose, said: 'Allow me to satisfy your longing, mesdemoiselles, and to offer you an ice. See, here's an unoccupied table; let's sit down here.'

"I was rather taken by surprise and didn't know what to reply, but my friend nudged me and whispered: 'Let's accept and take the ices; what harm will it do? it don't bind us to anything. Besides, he's a well-dressed man, he's comme il faut. I'm going to accept, anyway!'—And she drew me toward the table. You can understand that I couldn't very well refuse.—Well, he treated us; my friend had three ices, but I only took two; they made my teeth ache a little. He stuffed us with cakes and macaroons, too; so my friend thought he was charming; but he wasn't at all to my taste. His face was red and all covered with pimples. However, he had pleasant manners, and, although my friend made eyes at him, he paid all his attention to me. That made my friend mad. At last, messieurs—monsieur le docteur—you understand?"

"Yes, perfectly; you made the acquaintance of the stout man who paid for the ices; but that doesn't tell us why you are suffering now."

"Ah! that's the sequel. I had known that gentleman about six months. I hadn't got used to him at all; but I had got used to his presents. It isn't that he was very generous—— However, when you don't love a man, you ask nothing better than to deceive him."

"That is perfectly natural, mademoiselle; sometimes, indeed, you deceive him when you do love him."

"Oh! that's true, too; I believe such things have been known. Well, about six weeks ago I made the acquaintance of a young man I liked very much."

"And you left the stout party?"

"Mon Dieu! I intended to, certainly—that was my purpose—but——"

"You didn't have a chance, eh?"

"That's it, monsieur. I was looking for an opportunity; I didn't know just what to do, for I had discovered that Monsieur Bouqueton was very brutal, with all his comme il faut air."

"Bouqueton!" I exclaimed, struck by that name, as I recalled Madame Dauberny's confidences on the subject of her husband. "So your stout man's name is Bouqueton, is it?"

"Yes, monsieur. Do you know him?"

"No, not I. But I have heard of him from a friend of mine, who didn't speak very highly of him. Go on, mademoiselle."

"I was looking for a chance to break with Monsieur Bouqueton; but, meanwhile, I continued to receive his presents—so as not to make him suspicious. Well, three days ago, my lover—my real lover—came and asked me to dine with him at a little restaurant on Rue du Ponceau, where they have private rooms. Naturally, I said yes. When I went out, I met my friend, the one who had the ices with me on the Champs-ÉlysÉes. She asked me where I was going, and I was fool enough to tell her. Oh! women are such traitors! It's never safe to trust one's friends! I am sure that it was she who told Monsieur Bouqueton that I had another lover. By making trouble between him and me, she hoped he'd take her, I suppose—the vile slut! Well, messieurs, when I came out of the restaurant with my lover, I saw Monsieur Bouqueton standing guard at the door. I trembled all over. I didn't want to go home, but my young man couldn't take me with him, for he hadn't any rooms of his own: he lives with his employer, four clerks in one room. I couldn't go and play puss-in-the-corner with all four; so I says to myself: 'Never mind! here's the opportunity I've been looking for to break with Monsieur Bouqueton.'

"Sure enough, I hadn't been at home half an hour, when someone knocked at my door. It was Monsieur Bouqueton. I was all of a tremble when I opened the door; but I was surprised to hear him speak to me very gently, and say: 'So you don't love me any more, Annette?'—My name's Annette.—'I can't blame you; for I know that liaisons like ours can't last forever. I have come to say good-bye to you; but I don't propose to part on bad terms; on the contrary, to prove that I don't bear you any grudge, I'll treat you to bischoff. I know a place where they make it delicious. We'll take a cab and go there; then I'll bring you home, and we'll part the best of friends.'

"I was so delighted that Monsieur Bouqueton didn't make a scene, that I accepted his invitation. I certainly ought to have been suspicious of his honey-sweet air, but I'm very fond of bischoff. Oh! what a miserable thing it is to be a glutton! That fault has always made me make a fool of myself.

"I put my cap on again, and we went out. Monsieur Bouqueton put me into a cab, but I didn't hear what he said to the driver. We started off. It was about ten o'clock at night. The cab went on and on.

"'Is this cafÉ of yours very far?' I asked.

"'Rather far; but we shall soon be there now.'

"The cab stopped at last. Monsieur Bouqueton helped me out and paid the cabman, who drove away. I looked about; it was as dark as a pocket, and we had no lantern. All I could see was big trees.

"'Where are we?' I asked, beginning to be frightened; for I began to suspect treachery. I couldn't see any light; but the trees made me think that we might be on the outer boulevards. But why should he have taken me there? At that time of night, in winter, all the restaurants must be closed.

"Without answering my question, Monsieur Bouqueton took my arm and led me away; we walked for some minutes, but didn't meet a soul.

"'I won't go any farther,' I said suddenly, and stopped. 'You have deceived me, and I want to go back to Paris.'

"'Well! all right! we won't go any farther,' said my conductor, in a voice whose savage accent froze the blood in my veins. 'We are well enough here for what I have to say to you, and for the lesson I propose to give you.'

"He had no sooner said this than he knocked me down with a blow of his fist. I shrieked as I fell; but the miserable villain knew well enough that no one would come to my rescue. He called me the most horrible names—beggar—oh! I can't tell you all the vile names he called me! Certainly, I deserved some of them! But he wasn't content with treating me like the lowest of the low; he kicked me in the head and breast and everywhere."

"What a ghastly thing!" cried Balloquet, while I, restraining my feelings with the utmost difficulty, felt great drops of perspiration on my brow. The story of that loathsome conduct made my cheeks tingle.

"I begged Monsieur Bouqueton to spare me," continued Annette. "I confessed my guilt and begged for mercy; but he would not listen; he kept on kicking me and calling me vile names. At last, he hurt me so that I could not speak. I don't know whether the monster thought he had killed me,—that was his purpose, I don't doubt,—but, when he saw that I didn't move, he may have been frightened, for he suddenly ran off, and I heard his steps die away in the distance. I lay there on the ground a long while, in horrible pain. At last a heavy wagon came along, and the driver heard me groaning. He came to me, put me in his wagon, and took me as far as the barrier, where he left me. There they gave me what assistance I needed. I came to myself, but when they asked me what had happened, I couldn't tell them the truth, so I made up a story about robbers. When I felt able to go home, they called a cab and sent me home. All men aren't as wicked as Monsieur Bouqueton, thank God! if they were, we should have to long for another Flood. The next day, I took some medicine. The blows on my hips and legs are all black and blue, but they won't amount to anything. I hoped it would be the same with the one I got here, on the breast, but it hurts me awfully, it cuts like a knife; and that's why I came to see you, monsieur."

"Let me see the bruise, my child; you must show us your breast—doctors, you know——"

"Oh! I'll show you whatever you say, monsieur."

And, without any false modesty, Mademoiselle Annette unbuttoned her dress and bared her breast. At that moment we could examine it without any risk to her, for the thought that the poor girl was in pain put all other thoughts to flight. Under the left breast there was a purple spot, with a yellowish circle all about it. Balloquet frowned and his face became grave and sad; I believed that I could divine his thought and I turned my head away; the sight was too distressing. The girl meanwhile smiled a wan sort of smile, and said:

"That was a famous blow I got, wasn't it, monsieur?"

"Yes, mademoiselle, yes."

The doctor put his finger on the purple spot.

"Does that hurt?" he asked.

"Oh, yes!"

"And that?"

"Yes!"

"And that?"

"Oh! yes, it does!"

"We must look after this; you must do just what I say, and take the draught I prescribe."

"But it isn't dangerous, is it, monsieur?"

Balloquet made an effort to resume his customary cheerful expression as he replied:

"No, mademoiselle, no; you will come out all right. But you must follow my directions carefully; you must keep a bandage on your breast all the time, wet with a liquid I will give you."

"You don't need to feel it any more, monsieur?"

"No, mademoiselle."

"When must I come again?"

Balloquet reflected a moment, and said:

"Don't come here again; I am going to move, and I don't know yet where I shall go; but leave me your address; I will call to see you."

"Oh! you are very kind, monsieur; but—when a doctor puts himself out to call, it costs more than when one goes to see him."

"Never fear; it won't cost you any more, for it won't cost anything."

"Oh! you are very good! And you won't forget to come?"

"If your bruise was a mere trifle, I might forget you; but it's serious enough to prevent my neglecting it. I will come to see you."

"This is my address, monsieur: Annette—Rue Rochechouart, corner of Rue Bellefond."

"Just Annette?"

"That's all, monsieur; when a girl has been foolish, she ought not to bear her parents' name."

"Here, my child, here are your prescriptions. Be careful to follow my directions. Don't tire yourself, and be good. It's a bore, I know, but it is necessary for your safety. I will see you in a few days."

The girl had rebuttoned her dress and was about to leave the room.

"Have you seen Monsieur Bouqueton since?" I asked.

"Oh, no, monsieur! the monster! If I should see him, I believe I should faint with fright."

"But what about your young lover? Didn't he promise to avenge you, when he found out what had happened?"

"Oh, yes! he is going to square accounts with him, if he ever meets him. But he's a thoughtless fellow, my lover is! He says that one day, but forgets all about it the next."

"Well, mademoiselle, I promise you that you shall be avenged; I promise you that Monsieur—Bouqueton shall receive sooner or later the punishment that his treatment of you deserves. If your lover doesn't administer it, I myself will undertake to do it."

"You, monsieur? Why, do you know Monsieur Bouqueton?"

"I never saw the man, but I know who he is. I tell you again—you shall be avenged."

"Oh! mon Dieu! monsieur, I am not very vindictive; just let me get well, and I won't think any more about that old villain.—I have the honor to salute you, monsieur le mÉdÉcin!"

"I expected that you were to witness an amusing consultation," said Balloquet, after Annette had gone; "for these girls come to see us so often for mere trifles. But, unluckily, I was mistaken. That poor creature made my heart ache, her injury is so serious; I anticipate the worst—terrible suffering, and death."

"Poor girl! What a punishment for her sins! What a ghastly result of idleness, of indolence! I will not say, of coquetry, for there was nothing in her dress to indicate that she has ever been kept."

"Is it true that you know this infamous blackguard who kicked her in the breast?"

"Yes; his name is not Bouqueton; that is a name he assumes to cover up his escapades."

"Look you, my dear fellow, if ever you need my help in thrashing that scoundrel, you will afford me a very great pleasure, and I beg you not to forget me. I am a good-for-naught, I admit; I love all the women whose physique makes them worth the trouble of loving; I deceive them without scruple, because they pay me back in my own coin. In that respect, I fancy you are not unlike me. But to strike a woman, to inflict bodily suffering on a weak creature to whom we have owed the most delicious of joys!—oh! that is infamous, execrable! No infidelity can excuse such barbarous conduct!"

"You are quite right, Balloquet. Remember the two lines that have never grown old, despite their antiquity:

Au revoir, Balloquet! you will let me know about the poor girl, won't you?"

"To be sure! I will call on you and give you my address, when I have one."