€8 MEMOIES OF A PHYSICIAN. "You here! What imprudence 1" "Yes, it is T,'1 replied Gilbert, in a whisper;-"but do jaot cry out for me more than you would do for an- other. ' This time Nicole recognized her interlocutor. "Gilbert!11 she exclaimed, " oh, Heaven!"' "I requested you not to cry out,1' said the young man, coldly. . "But what are you doing here, Sir?" exclaimed Nicole, angrily. "Come," said Gilbert, as coolly as before, "a mo- inent ago you called me imprudent, and now you are more imprudent than I." " I think I am only too kind to you in asking what you are doing here," said Nicole; "for I know very well." " What am I doing then ?" " You came to see Mademoiselle Andrée.' " Mademoiselle Andrée?" said Gilbert as calmly as •before. " Yes, you are in love with her; but, fortunately, she •does not love you." "Indeed?" " But take care, Monsieur Gilbert," said Nicole, -threateningly. " Oh, I must take care?1' " Yes." "Of what?" '¦ Take care that I do not inform on you." "You, Nicole?" * Yes, I ; take care I den't get you dismissed from the Couse. V " Try," said Gilbert, smiling. " You defy me?'1 '" Yes, absolutely defy you." " What will happen then, if I tell mademoiselle, Mon- sieur Philip, and the baron, that I met you here?" " It will happen as you have said—not that I shall be dismissed—I am, thank God, dismissed already—but that I shall be tracked and hunted like a wild beast. But she who will be dismissed will be Nicole." " How Nicole?" "Certainly; Nicole, who has stones thrown to her ¦over the walls." *• Take care, Monsieur Gilbert," said Nicole, in a threatening tone,. " a piece oi1 mademoiselle's dress was found in your hand upon the Place Louis XT." " You think so?" "Monsieur Philip told his father so. He suspects nothing as yet, but if he gets a hint or two, perhaps he will suspect in the end." " And who will give him the hint?" — " I shall." "Take care, Nicole! One might suspect, also, that irhen you seem to be drying lace, you are picking up the stones that are thrown over the wall!" "It is false!" cried Nicole. Then retracting her •déniai, she continued, " At all events it is not a crime to receive à letter—not like stealing in here while mademoiselle is undressing. Ah ! what will you say to that, Monsieur Gilbert?" " I shall say, Mademoiselle Nicole, that it is also a crime for such a well-conducted young lady as you are ¦to slip keys under the doors of gardens." Nicole trembled. "I shall say," continued Gilbert " that if I, who am known to M. de Taverney, to Monsieur Philip, to Made- moiselle Andrée, have committed a crime in entering ,here, in my anxiety to know how the family I so long served were, and particularly Mademoiselle Andrée, whom I endeavored so strenuously to save on the evening of the fireworks, that a piece of her dress re- mained in my hand—I shall say, that if I-have commit- ted this pardonable crime, you have committed the unpardonable one of introducing a stranger into your master's house, and are now going to meet him a •econd time, in the green-house, where you have already spent an hour in his company-----" "Gilbert! Gilbert!1' *' Oh ! how virtuous we are ail of a sudden, Mademoi- selle Nicole! You deem it very wicked that I should oe found here, whilst-----" "Gilbert!" ** Yes, go and tell mademoiselle that I love her. I shall say that it is you whom I love, and she will be- lieve me, for you were foolish enough to tell her so at Taverney." " Gilbert, my friend!" "And you will be dismissed, Nicole; and in place of igoing to Trianon, and entering the household of the dauphiness with mademoiselle—instead of coquetting with the fine lords and rich gentlemen, as you will not fail to do if you remain with the family—instead of all this, you will be sent to enjoy the society of your ad- mirer M. Beausire, au exempt, a soldier! Oh! what a direful fall! What a noble ambition Mademoiselle Nicole's is—to be the jEavored fair one of a guards- man!1 And Gilbert began to hum, in a low voices with a -most malicious accent: " In the Garde Française I had a faithful lover." " in mercy, Monsieur Gilbert, " said Nicole, " do not look at me in that '11-natured manner. Your eyes pierce me, even in the darkness. Do not laugh, either —your laugh terrifies me " "Then open the door," said Gilbert, Imperatively; "open the door for me, Nicole, and not another word of all this." Nicole opened the door with so violent a nervous trembling, that her shoulders and head shook like those of an old woman. Gilbert tranquilly stepped out first, and seeing that the young girl was leading him towards the door of the garden, he said: "No, no: you have your means for admitting people here, I have my means for leaving it. Go to the green- house, toM. Beausire, who must be waiting impatiently for you, and remain with him ten minutes longer than you intended to do. I will grant you this recompense for your discretion." "Ten minutes, and why ten minutes?" asked Nicole, trembling. " Because I require ten minutes to disappear. Go, Nicole, go; and hke Lot's wife, whose story I told you at Taverney, when you gave me a rendezvous among the haystacks, do not turn round, else something worse will happen to you than to be changed into a statue of salt. Go, beautiful siren, go; I have nothing else to say to you." Nicole, subdued, alarmed, conquered, by the coolness and presence of mind shown by Gilbert, who held her future destiny in his hands, tur"°rt with drooping head towards the green house.ïwhere Beausire was already uneasy at her prolonged absence. Gilbert, on his side, observing the same precautions as before to avoid discovery, once more reached the wall, seized his rope, and, assisted by the vine and trellis-work, gained the first story in safety, and quickly ascended the stairs. As luck would have it, he met no one on his way up; the neighbors were already to bed, and Thérèse was still at supper. Gilbert was too much excited by his victory over Nicole to entertain the least fear of missing his root in the leaden gutter. He felt as if he could have walked on the edge of a sharpened razor, had the razor been a league long. He regained his attic in safety therefore, closed the window, seized the note which no one had touched, and tore it in pieces. Then he stretched himself with a delicious feeling of languor upon his bed. Half an hour afterwards Thérèse kept her word, and came to the door to inquire how he was. Gilbert thanked her, in a voice interrupted by terrific yawns, as if he were dying of sleep. He was eager to be alone, quite alone, in darkness and silence, to collect his thoughts, and analyze the varied emotions of this ever- memorable day. Soon, indeed, everything faded from his mind's eye; the baron, Philip, Nicole, Beausire, disappeared from view, to give place to the vision of Andrée at her toilet, her arms raised above her head, and detaching the pins from her long and flowing hair. Chapter LXXIIL—-The Botanists. The events which we have just related happened on Friday evening; so that it was the second day after, that the excursion which Rousseau looked forward to with so much pleasure was to take place. Gilbert, indifferent to everything since he had heard that Andrée was so soon to depart for Trianon, had spent the entire day leaning on his window-sill. During this day the window of Andree's room remained open, and once or twice the young girl had approached it as if to breathe the fresh air. She was pale and weak; but it seemed to Gilbert as if he would wish for noth- ing more than that Andrée should always inhabit that pavilion, that he should always have his attic, and that, once or twice every day, Andrée should come to the window as lie had seen her that day. The long-looked for Sunday at last arrived. Rousseau had already made his preparations the day before; his shoes were carefully blackened, and his grey coat, at once light and warm, was taken from the chest, to the great annoyance of Thérèse, who thought a blouse or a linen frock quite good enough for such a purpose. But Rousseau had completed his toilet without replying. Not only his own clothes, but Gilbert's also, had been passed in review with the greatest care, and the latter s had even been augmented by a pair of irreproachable stockings and new shoes, which Rousseau had present- ed him with as an agreeable surprise. The herbal was also put in the nicest trim. Rousseau had not forgottenliis collection of mosses which was to play a part in the proceedings of the day. Impatient as a child, he hastened more than twenty times to the window to see if the carriage that was passing was not M. de Jussieu's. At last he perceived a highly-varn- ished chariot, a pair of splendid horses with rich har- ness, and an immense powdered footman standing at his door. He ran instantly to Thérèse, exclaiming: "Here it is! hereitisl" And crying to Gilbert: "Quick, quick, the carriage is waiting." " Well," Sdid Thérèse, sharply, " if you are so fond of riding in a coach, why did you not work in order to have one of your own, like M. de Voltaire?" "Be quiet!" grumbled Rousseau. "Damef you always say you have as much talent as he." "I do not say so, hark you!" cried Rousseau in a rage; "I say—I say nothing !!' And all his joy tied, as it invariably did at the mention of that hated name. Luckily M. de Jussieu entered. He was pomatumed, pondered, fresh as the spring. His dress consisted of a splendid coat of ribbed Indian satin, of a light grey color, a vest of pale lilac silk, white silk stockings of extraordinary fineness, and bright gold buckles. On entering Rousseau's apartment he filled the room with a delightful perfume, which Thérèse inhaled with- out concealing her admiration. "How handsome you are!" said Rousseau, looking askance at Thérèse, and comparing his modest dress and clumsy equipment with the elegant toilet of M. de Jussieu. "Oh, I am afraid of the heat," said the elegant botanist. "But the wood is damp! If we botanize in the marshes, your silken stockings-----" " Oh, we can choose the driest places." "And the aquatic mosses? Must we give them up for to-day?" " Do not be uneasy about that, my dear colleague." " One would think'you were going to a ball, or to pay your respects to ladies." " Why should we not honor Dame Nature with a pair of silk stockings?" replied M. de Jussieu, rather em- barrassed; "does she not deserve that we should dress ourselves for her?" Rousseau said no more from the moment that M. de Jussieu invoked Nature, he agreed with him that it was'impossible to honor her too highly. As for Gilbert, notwithstanding his stoicism, he gazed at M. de Jussieu with envious eyes. Since he had ob- served so many young exquisites enhance their nat- ural advantages with dress, he had seen the utility, in a frivolous point of view, of elegance, and whispered to himself that this silk, this lace, this linen, would add a charm to his youth: and that if Andrée saw him dressed like M. de Jussieu instead of as he was, she would then deign to look at him. The carriage rolled off at the utmost speed of two fine Danish horses, and an hour after their departure the botanists alighted at Bougival, and turned to the left by the chestnut walk. This walk, which at present is so surpassingly beau- tiful, was then at least quite as much so; for the por- tion of the rising ground which our explorers had to traverse, already planted by Louis XIV., had been the object of constant care since the king had taken a fancy to Marly. The chestnut-trees with their ruddy bark, their gigan- tic branches, and their fantastic forms—sometimes presenting in their knotty circumvolutions the ap- pearance of a huge boa twiaing itself round the trunk — sometimes that of a bull prostrate upon the butch- er's block and vomiting a stream of black and clotted blood—the moss-covered apple-trees and the colossal walnuts, whose foliage was already assuming the dark blue shade of summer—the solitude, the picturesque simplicity and grandeur of the landscape, which, with its old shadowy trees, stood out in bold relief against the clear blue sky; all this, clothed with that simple and touching,, charm which Nature ever lends to her productions, plunged Rousseau in a state of ecstasy impossible to be described. Gilbert was calm, but moody; his whole being was absorbed in this one thought: "Andrée leaves the garden pavilion and goes to Trianon." Upon the summit of the little hill, which the three botanists were climbing on foot, was seen the square tower of Luciennes. The sight of this building from which he had fled, changed the current of Gilbert's thoughts, and recalled rather unpleasant recollections, unmingled, however, with fear. From his position in the rear of the party he saw two protectors before him; and, feeling himself in safety, he gazed at Luciennes as a shipwrecked sailor from the shore looks upon the sandbank upon which his vessel has struck. Rousseau, spade in hand, began to fix his looks on the ground, M. de Jussieu did the same, but with this difference, that the former was searching for plants, wjhile the latter was only endeavoring to keep his stock- ings from the damp. "What a splendid LepopodiumI" exclaimed Rous- seau. "Charming," replied M. de Jussieu; "butletuspass on, if you have no objection." "Ah! the Lysimaohla Eenellat it is ready for cull- ing, look!" " Pluck it, then, if it gives you pleasure." " Oh ! just as you please. But are we not botanizing, then?" " Yes, yes; but I think we shall find better upon that height, yonder." " As you please—let us go then." "What hour is it?" asked M. de Jussieu; "in my hurry I forgot my watch." Rousseau pulled a very large silver watch from his pocket. " Nine o'clock," said he. "Have you any objection that we should rest a lit- tle?" continued M. de Jussieu. "Oh! what a wretched walker you are," said Rous- seau. " You see what it is to botanize in fine shoes and silk stockings." "Perhaps I am hungry." " Well, then, let us breakfast; the village is about a quarter of a league from this." " Oh, no; we need not go so far." "How so? Havo you our breakfast in your car- riage?" "Look yonder—into that thicket?" said M. de Jus- sieu, pointing with his hand towards -the part of the horizon he indicated. Rousseau stood upon tiptoe, and shaded his eyes with his hand. " I can see nothing," said he. " What! Do you not see that little rustic roof?" "No." "Surmounted by a weather-cock, and the walls thatched with red and white straw—a sort of rustic cottage, in short?" "Yes, I think 1 see it now; a little building seem- ingly newly erected." " A Kiosk, that is it?" "Well?" "Well! we shall find there the little luncheon I promised you." "Very good," said Rousseau. " A.re you hungry, Gilbert?" Gilbert, who had not paid any attention to this de- bate, and was employed in mechanically knocking off the heads of the wild flowers, replied: " Whatever you please, Sir." "Come, then, if you please," said M. de Jussieu: " besides nothing need preve&fc our gathering simples on the way." "Oh," said Rousseau, "your nephew is a more ardent naturalist than you. I spent a day with him botanizing in the woods of Montmorency along with a select party. He finds well, he gathers well, he ex plains well. " Oh! he is young; he has his name to make yet." "Has he not yours already made? Ohl comrade, comrade, you botanize like an amateur." " Come, do not be angry, my dear philosopher; hold: here is the beautiful Plantago Monanthos. Did you find anything like that at your Montmorency?" "No, indeed," said Rousseau, quite delighted; "I have often searched for it in vain. Upon the faith of a natualist, it is magnificent!" "Oh, the beautiful pavilion!" said Gilbert, who had passed from the rear-guard of the party into the van. " Gilbert is hungry," replied M. de Jussieu. "Oh, Sir, I beg your pardon; I can wait patiently until you are ready." " Let us continue our task a little longer," said Rous- seau, " inasmuch as botanizing after a meal is bad for digestion; and besides the eye is then heavy and the back stiff. But what is this pavilion called?" " Tlie mouse-trap," answered M. de Jussieu, remem- bering the name invented by M. de Sartines. " What a singular name!" "Oh! the country, you know, is the place for indulg- ing all sorts of caprices." "To whom do those beautiful grounds belong?" " I do not exactly know.1 "You must know the proprietor, however, since you are going to breakfast there," said Rousseau, pricking up his ears with a slight shade of suspicion. " Not at all—or rather I know every one here, includ- ing the gamekeepers, who have often seen me in thefr inclosures, and who always touch their hats, and some- times offer me a hare or a string of woodcocks as a present from their masters. The people on this and the neighboring estates let me do here just as if I were on my own grounds. I do not know exactly whether this summer-house belongs to the Madame de Mirepoix or Madame d'Egmont, or—in short, I do not know to whom it belongs. But the most important point, my dear philosopher, I am sure you will agree with me, is, that we shall find there bread, fruit, and pastry." The good-natured tone in which M. de Jussieu spoke dispelled the cloud of suspicion which had already be- gun to darken Rousseau's brow. The philosopher wiped his feet on the grass, rubbed the mold off his hands, and preceded by M. de Jussieu, entered the mossy walk which wound gracefully beneath the chest- nut trees leading up to the hermitage.