“They were at a wretched French cabaret, smelling vilely, where we still remain, and the people try as much as they can do to compensate for our discomforts by their kindness.  The French poor people are very considerate where they see suffering.  I will say that for them.  The doctors had not allowed his poor Lucy to go near him.  She sat outside his door, and none of us dared disturb her.  That was a sight for Science.  His father and myself, and Mrs. Berry, were the only ones permitted to wait on him, and whenever we came out, there she sat, not speaking a word—­for she had been told it would endanger his life—­but she looked such awful eagerness.  She had the sort of eye I fancy mad persons have.  I was sure her reason was going.  We did everything we could think of to comfort her.  A bed was made up for her and her meals were brought to her there.  Of course there was no getting her to eat.  What do you suppose his alarm was fixed on?  He absolutely said to me—­but I have not patience to repeat his words.  He thought her to blame for not commanding herself for the sake of her maternal duties.  He had absolutely an idea of insisting that she should make an effort to suckle the child.  I shall love that Mrs. Berry to the end of my days.  I really believe she has twice the sense of any of us—­Science and all.  She asked him plainly if he wished to poison the child, and then he gave way, but with a bad grace.

“Poor man! perhaps I am hard on him.  I remember that you said Richard had done wrong.  Yes; well, that may be.  But his father eclipsed his wrong in a greater wrong—­a crime, or quite as bad; for if he deceived himself in the belief that he was acting righteously in separating husband and wife, and exposing his son as he did, I can only say that there are some who are worse than people who deliberately commit crimes.  No doubt Science will benefit by it.  They kill little animals for the sake of Science.

“We have with us Doctor Bairam, and a French physician from Dieppe, a very skilful man.  It was he who told us where the real danger lay.  We thought all would be well.  A week had passed, and no fever supervened.  We told Richard that his wife was coming to him, and he could bear to hear it.  I went to her and began to circumlocute, thinking she listened—­she had the same eager look.  When I told her she might go in with me to see her dear husband, her features did not change.  M. Despres, who held her pulse at the time, told me, in a whisper, it was cerebral fever—­brain fever coming on.  We have talked of her since.  I noticed that though she did not seem to understand me, her bosom heaved, and she appeared to be trying to repress it, and choke something.  I am sure now, from what I know of her character, that she—­even in the approaches of delirium—­was preventing herself from crying out.  Her last hold of reason was a thought for Richard.  It was against a creature like this that we plotted!  I have the comfort of knowing that I did my share in helping to destroy her.  Had she seen her husband a day or two before—­but no! there was a new System to interdict that!  Or had she not so violently controlled her nature as she did, I believe she might have been saved.