we had the sweating sickness two years ago, and a hundred patients
at times,--we know not what to do."

"That is the thought which occurred to me."

"What would you have, Monseigneur?" said the director. "One must
resign one's self."

This conversation took place in the gallery dining-room on the
ground-floor.

The Bishop remained silent for a moment; then he turned abruptly
to the director of the hospital.

"Monsieur," said he, "how many beds do you think this hall alone
would hold?"

"Monseigneur's dining-room?" exclaimed the stupefied director.

The Bishop cast a glance round the apartment, and seemed to be
taking measures and calculations with his eyes.

"It would hold full twenty beds," said he, as though speaking
to himself. Then, raising his voice:--

"Hold, Monsieur the director of the hospital, I will tell you something.
There is evidently a mistake here. There are thirty-six of you,
in five or six small rooms. There are three of us here,
and we have room for sixty. There is some mistake, I tell you;
you have my house, and I have yours. Give me back my house;