operations are like miracles."

Then he went on talking of Dr. Gaude's clinic at the Hopital Marbeuf, a
clinic whither society folks hastened to see operations performed, just
as they might go to a theatre. The doctor, who was fond of money, and who
bled his wealthy lady patients in more senses than one, was likewise
partial to glory and proud of accomplishing the most dangerous
experiments on the unhappy creatures who fell into his hands. The
newspapers were always talking about him, his cures were constantly
puffed and advertised by way of inducing fine ladies to trust themselves
to his skill. And he certainly accomplished wonders, cutting and carving
his patients in the quietest, most unconcerned way possible, with never a
scruple, never a doubt as to whether what he did was strictly right or
not.

Seraphine had begun to laugh, showing her white wolfish teeth between her
blood-red lips, when she noticed the horrified expression which had
appeared on Mathieu's face since Gaude had been spoken of. "Ah!" said
she; "there's a man, now, who in nowise resembles your squeamish Dr.
Boutan, who is always prattling about the birth-rate. I can't understand
why Constance keeps to that old-fashioned booby, holding the views she
does. She is quite right, you know, in her opinions. I fully share them."

Morange laughed complaisantly. He wished to show her that his opinions
were the same. However, as Valerie did not return with Reine, he grew
impatient, and asked permission to go and see what they were about.
Perhaps he himself might be able to help in getting the child ready.

As soon as Seraphine was alone with Mathieu she turned her big, ardent,
gold-flecked eyes upon him. She no longer laughed with the same laugh as