"Poor boy! perhaps he's lovesick. But no, men never lose their health for love. I'm curious to see him; if he was old, I'd go all the same; but a young man is always more alluring."

Virginie went upstairs, and kept on to the sixth, pa.s.sing her own door without stopping. The key was on the outside of Auguste's door.

"When a man lives in this hole," thought Virginie, "he don't eat green peas in January." And she tapped softly on the door, saying aloud: "It's your neighbor from downstairs, monsieur, come to ask if you want anything."

There was no reply, so she decided to open the door noiselessly. She entered the hovel, in comparison with which her room was a palace. She went to the bed on which lay the sick man, whose fever had increased, and who no longer had the strength to open his eyes. She leaned over him and gave a little shriek when she recognized Auguste.

That shriek caused the invalid to open his eyes; he tried to give Virginie his hand, while she threw herself upon him, kissed him again and again, wiped the perspiration from his forehead, and the next moment drenched his face with her tears, crying:

"It is you, Auguste! it is really you! O mon Dieu! in this garret! on this wretched bed! My poor dear! sick, alone--and I didn't know it! Poor Auguste! and I sang last night while he was groaning here! Oh! I feel as if I should choke! I can't say any more."

But at last Virginie realized that her tears and kisses were no longer sufficient for the invalid, who motioned that he was consumed by thirst.

"Wait--wait, my dear," she said, "I'll give you--Great G.o.d! there's nothing here but water! Why, that's no good--it increases the fever.

I'll go--the doctor must come right away; I'll go and fetch him. I'm going. Don't be impatient, my friend; I won't be long; and after this you won't be alone any more; I shan't leave you again!"

Virginie ran to the door, returned to the bed, pulled the clothes over the sick man, arranged his head, then ran downstairs four at a time, and arrived at the concierge's door all out of breath, saying:

"A doctor! where's there a doctor?"

"Why, there's several in the quarter. Is the gentleman sicker?"

"His address--quick!"

"A doctor's address? There's one on this street--yonder, next to the fruit store; then there's the one that bled me; but----"

Virginie was no longer listening; she was already at the door the concierge had pointed out. She ran up to the doctor's room and begged him to come instantly to see a sick man, in the tone that only women can a.s.sume when the object of their affection is involved. The doctor made no reply but took his hat, which was much better, and followed Virginie, who led the way to Auguste's garret. He ascended the six flights almost as quickly as she did, and when he entered the room apparently saw nothing but the invalid. All honor to the men who devote their lives to relieving the ills of mankind, and who show the same zeal for the poor as for the rich. Their number is large, and although Moliere did poke fun at the doctors, doubtless he would be the first to do them justice to-day.

Virginie gazed anxiously at the doctor's face while he was feeling the invalid's pulse. His eyes gave no favorable indication; while Auguste, heedless of everything that was going on about him, seemed neither to see nor to hear anything.

"Well, monsieur?" queried Virginie at last.

"The young man is in bad shape; he has a high fever and there is every reason to expect that it will increase; however, with extreme care, I hope we shall save him."

"Oh, monsieur, don't neglect anything, I beg you!"

"But he is very badly off here; the room is so small, there is so little air, and the sun beats down so fiercely on the roofs, and makes these garrets burning hot; this is a very unhealthy place."

"Oh! he shall leave this garret this very day; he shall live in my room as long as he's sick. It's right below here; he'll be much more comfortable there, for it's a good size, at least--one can turn round in it. He'd have been there before this if I could have carried him alone.

If you would be kind enough to help me, monsieur, it would soon be done!"

"Let's try it, mademoiselle."

And the doctor went to the bed and lifted the only mattress that there was on the straw; Virginie did the same on the other side, and thus they carried Auguste to the floor below and laid him upon the only bed in the room.

"Where will you sleep, mademoiselle?" queried the doctor.

"Oh! that don't worry me, monsieur. I'll bring down the straw bed from upstairs; indeed, I shan't feel like sleeping as long as he's sick."

The doctor looked at her again, then wrote a prescription and took his leave, promising to come again early the next morning.

When Virginie was alone, she looked at the prescription and tried to read it.

"Bless my soul!" she muttered, "how badly these doctors write! like cats. 'Syrup of--infusion of'--No matter, the druggist will understand; this much is clear, that here's syrups and infusions--consequently, money. Poor Auguste! I'm quite sure he hasn't any. And I haven't much more. But never mind--I have got to find some. He gave me enough when he was rich. I must go at once and get whatever he needs."

Virginie took her purse and went out to buy what was required for the draught the doctor had ordered. She did not amuse herself by babbling with the concierge, but made haste back to her room to nurse the sick man. His fever had changed to delirium; he did not know her, and he seemed to be much worse. Virginie nursed him with redoubled zeal. She succeeded, not without difficulty, in making him take the potion prescribed for him. She did not take one moment's rest during the night; she was constantly beside the sick-bed, leaving it only to return to her work. Her work was making linen garments, for since her opportunities for pleasure had fallen off, she had realized that in order to live something more was required than fine eyes and a fetching smile. This work brought her but little money; but she redoubled her efforts when she had Auguste to care for.

While she worked, Virginie kept her eyes on the invalid.

"Poor boy!" she would say to herself; "his travels evidently didn't bring him luck. But how does it happen that good old Bertrand isn't with him? He must be dead, not to be with Auguste. He was a true friend, he was! not like those popinjays who swindled him! And Denise, who loved him so dearly! If she knew he was in this condition! Suppose I should write to her? But no, that might make Auguste angry; perhaps he's seen her again, and they've had a row; one can never tell! I must cure him first; then he will tell me all his adventures."

The doctor came the next day, as he had promised; he was unable as yet to give a definite opinion, but he agreed to come again in the evening, and told Virginie to follow the same treatment.

For three days Auguste was very ill. The doctor was not sparing of his visits, and Virginie followed all his prescriptions to the letter. But in the afternoon of the third day she found nothing in her purse, and she had no work ready to carry back. She needed money, however, for a thousand things that her patient must have. Virginie was not at a loss; she took off her bracelets and earrings, the sole relics of the days of her early prosperity, and sold them to a jeweller as gayly as if she were going to a party.

The doctor's treatment and Virginie's nursing were not thrown away. On the fourth day Auguste was better; he was no longer delirious and was surprised to find himself in a room which he did not recognize. He pressed Virginie's hand and would have spoken; but the doctor had prescribed perfect rest, so Virginie said to him:

"Hush! wait till you're better before you talk; meanwhile, don't worry about anything; you're in my room, and I'll take care of you as well as if you had a dozen black servants. All that I ask you is to drink your medicine like a good boy, and think of nothing but rose-bushes. When you are getting better, I'll sing as much as you want me to; I'll even go so far as to dance, if that will amuse you, so as to bring back your spirits."

Auguste smiled and held his peace. He continued to improve, but his convalescence bade fair to be very long; and as a sick man always requires innumerable things, the jewelry money was soon expended.

Thereupon, while Auguste was asleep, Virginie looked over her wardrobe to see what she had that she could do without. In reality it contained nothing that was not strictly necessary, but she succeeded in finding several things of which she made a bundle, saying to herself:

"This will rid me of a lot of old stuff that I am sick to death of."

And the bundle went to join the jewels.

When Auguste had recovered a little strength, he was able to tell Virginie the story of his adventures. When she learned that Bertrand had voluntarily left his master, she dropped a gla.s.s of medicine that she was about to hand to Auguste, and exclaimed:

"My arms have gone back on me! That Bertrand, whom I always thought worthy of being embalmed! whom I looked upon as a faithful dog in his attachment to you! You can't trust a man! My friend, the English beer must have changed all his feelings!"

But when Auguste told her of his stay at Denise's cottage, Virginie interrupted him to describe the peasant girl's grief and despair when she learned of his departure--in short, all her love for him.

"Is it possible?" said Auguste; "she really loves me? Then she did not deceive me! it wasn't pity that made her offer me her hand!"

"Does she love you! She adores you, monsieur. The poor child made me feel so sad. She cried so! But you men are unique! when a woman loves you, you're surprised, and when she doesn't love you, you're surprised too."

"Oh! how happy you make me, Virginie!"

"In that case, get well right away, and go and console poor Denise."

"Oh no! I shall not go there."

"What's that? you won't go? You know that she loves you, that she is in despair at your absence, and you won't go back to her?"

"I am dest.i.tute--I can't accept her hand."

"My dear friend, that's a piece of delicacy that I can't understand.

When a person loves us, what's theirs is ours; and if a prince should fall in love with me, although I haven't any more money than you have, I shouldn't hesitate a moment about marrying him."