"He is asleep, Monsieur Garneret, he is asleep. The doctor tellsus he is saved. He is a very good doctor! _You_ know that yourself,for he is your friend, and it was you brought him here. You havebeen our saviour, Monsieur Garneret."And the bookbinder turned his head away to wipe his eyes, walkedacross to the window, lifted the curtain and looked out intothe sunlit street.
"The fine weather will quite set him up again. But we have hadsix terrible weeks. I never lost heart; it is not in the natureof things that a father should despair of his son's life; still,you know, Monsieur Garneret, he has been very ill.
"The neighbours have been very good to us; but it was a hard jobnursing him in this cursed cellar. Just think, Monsieur Garneret,for twenty days we had to keep his head in ice.""You know that is the treatment for meningitis."The bookbinder came up confidentially to Garneret. He scratched hisear, rubbed his forehead, stroked his chin in great embarrassment.
"My poor lad," he got started at last, "is in love, passionatelyin love. I have found it out from the things he said when hewas delirious. It is not my way to interfere with what does notconcern me; but as I see the matter is serious, I am going toask you, for his own good, to tell me who it is, if you knowher."Garneret shrugged his shoulders:
"An actress! a tragedy actress! pooh!"The bookbinder pondered a moment; then:
"Look you, Monsieur Garneret, I acted for the best in my poor boy'sinterest, but I blame myself. I tell myself this, the education Igave him has disqualified him for hard work and practical life....
An actress, you say, a tragedy actress? Tastes of that sort mustbe acquired in the schools. Those times he was attending hisclasses, I used to get hold of his exercise books after he hadgone to bed and read whatever there was in French. It was myway of checking his work; because, ignoramus as he may be, aman can see, with a little common sense, what is done properlyand what is scamped. Well, Monsieur Garneret, I was terrified tofind in his themes so many high-flown ideas; some of them werevery fine, no doubt, and I copied out on a paper those that struckme most. But I used to tell myself: All these grand speeches,all these histories, taken from the books of the ancient Romans,are going to put my lad's head in a fever, and he will never knowthe truth of things. I was right, my dear Monsieur Garneret;it is school learning, look you, has made him fall in love witha tragedy actress----"Jean Servien raised himself up in bed.
"Is that you, Garneret? I am very glad to see you."Then, after listening a moment:
"Why, what is that noise?" he asked.
Garneret told him it was Mont Valérien firing on the fortifications.
The Commune was in full swing.
"Vive la Commune!" cried Jean Servien, and he dropped his headback on the pillow with a smile.