"Well, what is it?" I cried, impatiently.

"Sir, you are becoming violent! I think Madame Pierson is seriously ill;
she will not be able to see you this week."

Another bow, and he retired.

It was clear that his visit concealed some mystery: either Madame Pierson
did not wish to see me, and I could not explain why; or Mercanson had
interfered on his own responsibility.

I waited until the following day and then presented myself at her door;
the servant who met me said that her mistress was indeed very ill and
could not see me; she refused to accept the money I offered her, and
would not answer my questions.

As I was passing through the village on my return, I saw Mercanson;
he was surrounded by a number of schoolchildren, his uncle's pupils.
I stopped him in the midst of his harangue and asked if I could have a
word with him.

He followed me aside; but now it was my turn to hesitate, for I was at a
loss how to proceed to draw his secret from him.

"Sir," I finally said, "will you kindly inform me if what you told me
yesterday was the truth, or was there some motive behind it? Moreover,
as there is not a physician in the neighborhood who can be called in,
in case of necessity, it is important that I should know whether her
condition is serious."