LITMIR.BIZ

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yes; you keep walking upon glass as though you were trying for it."

      "Oh, bless you! never mind that; the soles of my feet are hard as iron; must be something sharper than glass could hurt them."

      "A teaspoon—" said the doctor.

      The Chourineur recommenced his évolutions sylphidiques, and returned with the article required.

      After having swallowed a few spoonfuls of the mixture, Rodolph began to stir in his bed, and faintly moved his hands.

      "Good! good! he is recovering from his stupor," said the doctor, speaking to himself. "That bleeding has relieved him; he is now out of danger."

      "Saved? Bravo! Vive la Charte!" exclaimed the Chourineur, in the full burst of his joy.

      "Hold your tongue! and pray be quiet!" said the negro, in a tone of command.

      "To be sure I will, M. le Médécin."

      "His pulse is becoming regular—very well, indeed—excellent—"

      "And that poor friend of M. Rodolph's—body and bones of me!—when he comes to know that—But, then, luckily—"

      "Silence! I say."

      "Certainly, M. le Docteur."

      "And sit down."

      "But, M. le—"

      "Sit down, I tell you! You disturb me, twisting and fidgeting about in that manner—you distract my attention. Come, sit down at once, and keep still."

      "But, doctor, don't you perceive I am as dirty as a pile of floating wood just going to be unloaded?—all slime and wet, you see. I should spoil the furniture."

      "Then sit down on the ground."

      "I should soil the carpet."

      "Do what you like, but, for heaven's sake, be quiet!" said the doctor, in a tone of impatience; then, throwing himself into an armchair, he leaned his head upon his clasped hands, and appeared lost in deep reflection.

      After a moment of profound meditation, the Chourineur, less from any need he felt for repose than in obedience to the doctor's commands, took a chair with the utmost precaution, turned it upside down with an air of intense self-satisfaction at having at length devised a plan to act in strict conformity with the orders received, and yet avoid all risk of soiling the silken cushion; having laid the back on the ground, he proceeded, after all manner of delicate arrangements, to take his seat on the outer rails; but, unhappily, the Chourineur was entirely ignorant of the laws of the lever and the equilibrium of bodies, the chair overbalanced, and the luckless individual seated thereon, in endeavouring to save himself from falling, by an involuntary movement caught hold of a small stand, on which was a tray containing some tea-things.

      At the formidable noise caused by so many falling articles clattering upon the head of the unfortunate cause of all this discord and havoc, the doctor sprung from his seat, while Rodolph, awaking with a start, raised himself on his elbow, looked about him with an anxious and perturbed glance, then, passing his hand over his brows, as though trying to arrange his ideas, he inquired:

      "Where is Murphy?"

      "Your royal highness need be under no apprehensions on his account," answered the negro, respectfully; "there is every hope of his recovery."

      "Recovery! He is, then, wounded?"

      "Unhappily, my lord, he is."

      "Where is he? Let me see him!" And Rodolph endeavoured to rise, but fell back again, overcome by weakness and the intense pain he felt from his many and severe contusions. "Since I cannot walk," cried he, at length, "let me be instantly carried to Murphy—this moment!"

      "My lord, he sleeps at present; it would be highly dangerous, at this particular juncture, to expose him to the slightest agitation."

      "You are deceiving me, and he is dead! He has been murdered! And I—I am the wretched cause of it!" cried Rodolph, in a tone of agony, raising his clasped hands towards heaven.

      "My lord knows that his servant is incapable of a falsehood. I assert by my honour, that, although severely wounded, Murphy lives, and that his chance of recovery is all but certain."

      "You say that but to prepare me for more disastrous tidings; he lies, doubtless, wounded past all hope; and he, my faithful friend, will die!"

      "My lord—"

      "Yes, you are seeking to deceive me till all is over. But I will see him—I will judge for myself; the sight of a friend cannot be hurtful. Let me be instantly removed to his chamber."

      "Once more, my lord, I pledge my solemn assurance, that, barring chances not likely to occur, Murphy will soon be convalescent."

      "My dear David, may I indeed believe you?"

      "You may, indeed, my lord."

      "Hear me. You know the high opinion I entertain of your ability and knowledge, and that, from the hour in which you were attached to my household, you have possessed my most unbounded confidence—never, for one instant, have I doubted your great skill and perfect acquaintance with your profession; but I conjure you, if a consultation be necessary—"

      "My lord, that would have been my first thought, had I seen the slightest reason for such a step; but, up to the present moment, it would be both useless and unnecessary. And, besides, I should be somewhat tenacious of introducing strangers into the house until I knew whether your orders of yesterday—"

      "But how has all this happened?" said Rodolph, interrupting the black. "Who saved me from drowning in that horrid cellar? I have a confused recollection of having heard the Chourineur's voice there; was I mistaken?"

      "Not at all mistaken, my lord. But let the brave fellow, to whom all praise is due, relate the affair in which he was the principal actor himself."

      "Where is he? Where is he?"

      The doctor looked about for the recently elected sick-nurse, and at length found him, thoroughly silenced and shamed by his late tumble, ensconced behind the curtains of the bed.

      "Here he is," said the doctor; "he looks somewhat shamefaced."

      "Come forward, my brave fellow!" said Rodolph, extending his hand to his preserver.

      The confusion of the poor Chourineur was still further increased from having, when behind his curtain, heard the black doctor address Rodolph continually as "my lord," or "your royal highness."

      "Approach, my friend—my deliverer!" said Rodolph, "and give me your hand."

      "I beg pardon, sir—I mean, my lord—no, highness—no—"

      "Call me M. Rodolph, as you used to do; I like it better."

      "And so do I—it comes so much easier to one. But be so good as to excuse my hand; I have done so much work lately, that—"

      "Your hand, I tell you—your hand!"

      Overcome by this kind and persevering command, the Chourineur timidly extended his black and horny palm, which Rodolph warmly shook.

      "Now, then, sit down, and tell me all about it—how you discovered the cellar. But I think I can guess. The Schoolmaster?"

      "We have him in safety," said the black doctor.

      "Yes, he and the Chouette, tied together like two rolls of tobacco. A pair of pretty creatures they look, as ever you would wish to see, and, I doubt not, sick enough of each other's company by this time."

      "And my poor Murphy! What a selfish wretch must I be to think only of myself! Where is he wounded, David?"

      "In the right side, my lord; but, fortunately, towards the lower false rib."

      "Oh, I must have a deep and terrible revenge for this! David, I depend upon your assistance."

      "My lord knows full well that I am wholly devoted to him, both body and soul," replied the negro, coldly.

      "But

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