“I know that well enough; you are prosperous—­you ought to be satisfied.”

M. Plantat’s tone was friendly, almost paternal.  He was deeply interested, evidently, in Robelot’s prosperity.

“Satisfied!” resumed the bone-setter.  “Not so much as you might think.  Life is very dear for poor people.”

“But, haven’t you just purchased an estate near d’Evry?”

“Yes.”

“And a nice place, too, though a trifle damp.  Happily you have stone to fill it in with, on the land that you bought of the widow Frapesle.”

Robelot had never seen the old justice of the peace so talkative, so familiar; he seemed a little surprised.

“Three wretched pieces of land!” said he.

“Not so bad as you talk about.  Then you’ve also bought something in the way of mines, at auction, haven’t you?”

“Just a bunch of nothing at all.”

“True, but it pays well.  It isn’t so bad, you see, to be a doctor without a diploma.”

Robelot had been several times prosecuted for illegal practicing; so he thought he ought to protest against this.

“If I cure people,” said he, “I’m not paid for it.”

“Then your trade in herbs isn’t what has enriched you.”

The conversation was becoming a cross-examination.  The bone-setter was beginning to be restless.

“Oh, I make something out of the herbs,” he answered.

“And as you are thrifty, you buy land.”

“I’ve also got some cattle and horses, which bring in something.  I raise horses, cows, and sheep.”

“Also without diploma?”

Robelot waxed disdainful.

“A piece of parchment does not make science.  I don’t fear the men of the schools.  I study animals in the fields and the stable, without bragging.  I haven’t my equal for raising them, nor for knowing their diseases.”

M. Plantat’s tone became more and more winning.

“I know that you are a bright fellow, full of experience.  Doctor Gendron, with whom you served, was praising your cleverness a moment ago.”

The bone-setter shuddered, not so imperceptibly as to escape Plantat, who continued:  “Yes, the good doctor said he never had so intelligent an assistant.  ‘Robelot,’ said he, ’has such an aptitude for chemistry, and so much taste for it besides, that he understands as well as I many of the most delicate operations.’”

“Parbleu!  I did my best, for I was well paid, and I was always fond of learning.”

“And you were an apt scholar at Doctor Gendron’s, Master Robelot; he makes some very curious studies.  His work and experience on poisons are above all remarkable.”

Robelot’s uneasiness became apparent; his look wavered.

“Yes;” returned he, “I have seen some strange experiments.”

“Well, you see, you may think yourself lucky—­for the doctor is going to have a splendid chance to study this sort of thing, and he will undoubtedly want you to assist him.”