When he left his office the next day he went to inquire for Madame Simon.
He found her eating rich soup with an air of great satisfaction.

"Well?" said he.

"Oh, sir," she replied, "I'm just the same. I feel sort of
crushed--not a bit better."

The doctor declared they must wait and see; some complication or other
might arise.

Hector waited three days, then he returned. The old woman, fresh-faced
and clear-eyed, began to whine when she saw him:

"I can't move, sir; I can't move a bit. I shall be like this for the rest
of my days."

A shudder passed through Hector's frame. He asked for the doctor, who
merely shrugged his shoulders and said:

"What can I do? I can't tell what's wrong with her. She shrieks when they
try to raise her. They can't even move her chair from one place to
another without her uttering the most distressing cries. I am bound to
believe what she tells me; I can't look into her inside. So long as I
have no chance of seeing her walk I am not justified in supposing her to
be telling lies about herself."

The old woman listened, motionless, a malicious gleam in her eyes.