which the inhabitants still spoke, watched with jealous care, resolved
to leave in existence only creditable documents, those traditions
which caused her to be saluted like a fallen queen when she walked
through the town.

She went to the door of the chamber and listened to the persistent
noise of the pestle, which did not cease. Then, with an anxious brow,
she returned to Clotilde.

"Good Heavens! What is he making? You know that he is doing himself
the greatest harm with his new drug. I was told, the other day, that
he came near killing one of his patients."

"Oh, grandmother!" cried the young girl.

But she was now launched.

"Yes, exactly. The good wives say many other things, besides! Why, go
question them, in the faubourg! They will tell you that he grinds dead
men's bones in infants' blood."

This time, while even Martine protested, Clotilde, wounded in her
affection, grew angry.

"Oh, grandmother, do not repeat such abominations! Master has so great
a heart that he thinks only of making every one happy!"

Then, when she saw that they were both angry, Felicite, comprehending
that she had gone too far, resumed her coaxing manner.