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Mysteries of Paris, V3

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"And where is she?"

"There, in the bed opposite to yours."

"And only fifteen?"

"At the most."

"The age of my eldest daughter!" said Jeanne, unable to restrain her tears.

"Pardon me," said La Lorraine, sadly, "pardon me, if I cause you pain,
unintentionally, by speaking of your children. Perhaps they are sick also?"

"Alas! I do not know what will become of them if I stay here more than a
week."

"And your husband?"

After a pause, Jeanne answered, drying her tears, "Since we are friends
together, La Lorraine, I can tell you my troubles, as you have told me
yours--it will solace me. My husband was a good workman; he has become
dissipated; he abandoned me and my children, after having sold all that we
possessed; I worked hard; charitable people aided me; I began again to
raise my head; I brought up my little family as well as I could, when my
husband came back, with a bad woman, and again took all I had, leaving me
to commence anew."

"Poor Jeanne! could you not prevent that?"

"I could have procured a separation by law, but the law is too dear, as my
brother says. Alas! you shall see what effect this has upon us poor folks;
some days since, I returned to see my brother: he gave me three francs,
which he had collected from those who listened to his stories in prison."

"It is plain to see that you are a kind-hearted family," said La Lorraine,
who, from a rare instinctive delicacy, did not interrogate Jeanne as to the
cause of her brother's imprisonment.

"I took courage, then; I thought that my husband would not return for a
long time, for he had taken from me all that he could take. No, I am
mistaken," added the unhappy mother, shuddering: "there remained my
daughter--my poor Catharine."

"Your daughter?"

"You shall see--you shall see. Three days since, I was at work, with my
children around me; my husband came in. I saw at once that he been
drinking. 'I come after Catharine,' said he. I caught my daughter by the
arm, and asked Duport, 'Where do you wish to take her?' 'That does not
concern you--she is my daughter; let her tie up some clothes and follow
me.' At these words my blood curdled in my veins; for, imagine, La
Lorraine, that this woman who is with my husband--it makes me shudder to
say it, but--"

"Ah! yes, she is a real monster."

"'Take Catharine away!' I answered to Duport: 'never!' 'Now,' said my
husband, whose lips were already white with rage,'do not provoke me, or
I'll knock you down!' Then he took my child by the arm, saying, Come with
me, Catharine.' The poor little thing threw her arms around my neck;
bursting into tears, she cried, 'I wish to stay with mamma!' Seeing this,
Duport became furious: he tore my child from me, giving me a blow with his
fist, which knocked me down; and once down--but, do you see, La Lorraine,"
said poor Jeanne, interrupting herself, "it is very certain he would not
have been so cruel, except he had been drinking in fine, he trampled upon
me, loading me with curses."

"How bad he must be!"

"My poor children fell on their knees, begging for mercy; Catharine also.
Then he said to my daughter, swearing like a madman, 'If you do not come
with me, I will finish the job with your mother!' I vomited blood. I felt
myself half dead; but I cried to Catharine, 'Rather let him kill me! but do
not follow your father!' 'Will you not be silent, then?' said Duport,
giving me another blow, which made me lose all consciousness."

"What misery! what misery!"

"When I came to myself I found my two little boys beside me weeping."

"And your daughter?"

"Gone!" cried the poor mother, sobbing convulsively; "yes, gone! My other
children told me that their father had struck her, threatening to take what
life I had remaining on the spot. Then, what could you expect? the poor
child was bewildered; she threw herself upon me for a last embrace, kissed
her little brothers, and then my husband carried her off! Ah! that bad
woman waited for them at the door, I am sure!"

"And could you not complain to the police?"

"At first I could think of nothing but Catharine's departure, but I soon
felt great pains all over my body, I could not walk. Alas! what I had so
much dreaded arrived. Yes--I had said to my brother, 'Some day my husband
will beat me so hard--so hard, that I shall be obliged to go to a hospital.
Then, my children, what will become of them?' And now here I am, at the
hospital, and I say, What will become of my children?"

"But is there not any justice, then, my God! for the poor?"

"Too dear! too dear for us, as my brother said," answered Jeanne Duport,
with bitterness. "My neighbors went to seek the police, they came: it was
painful for me to denounce Duport, but on account of my daughter it was
necessary. I said only that, in a quarrel I had with him about taking away
my daughter, he had pushed me; that it was nothing, but that I wanted my
daughter back again."

"And what did he reply?"

"That my husband had a right to take away his child, not being separated
from me. 'You have only one way,' said the officer to me: 'commence a civil
suit, demand a separation of body, and then the blows which your husband
has given you, his conduct with this vile woman, will be in your favor, and
they will force him to deliver up your daughter; otherwise, he can keep her
in his own right.' 'But to commence a suit! I have not the means! I have my
children to feed.' 'What can I do?' said he; 'so it is.' Yes," repeated
Jeanne, sobbing, "he was right; so it is; and because that so it is, in
three months, perhaps, my daughter will be a street-walker! while, if I had
had the means to commence a suit, it would not have happened."

"But that will never happen, your daughter must love you so much."

"But she is so young! At that age, fear, bad treatment, bad counsels, bad
examples! Poor Catharine! so gentle, so loving! and I, who only this year
wished her to renew her first communion!"

"Oh! you have much sorrow. And I complained of mine!" said Lorraine, wiping
her eyes. "And your other children?"

"On their account I did what I could to keep out of the hospital. I was
obliged to give up. I vomit blood three or four times a day; I have a fever
which prostrates me; I am unable to work. At least, by being cured quickly,
I can return to my children, if, before this, they are not dead with hunger
or imprisoned as beggars. I here--who will they have to take care of them,
and feed them?"

"Oh! this is terrible! You have no good neighbors, then?"

"They are as poor as I am, and they have five children of their own; thus
two children more is a heavy burden; however, they have promised me to feed
them a little, during eight days. It is all they can do; it is taking from
them bread, of which they themselves have none too much; so I must be cured
in eight days; oh yes! cured or not, I shall go out, all the same."

"But why have you not thought of this good Miss Rigolette, whom you met in
prison? She would surely have taken care of them."

"I did think of her; and, although the dear little soul has, perhaps, as
much as she can do to get along, I sent her word by a neighbor of my
troubles. Unfortunately, she is in the country, where she is going to be
married; so the porter of the house said."

"Thus, in eight days, your poor children--but no, your neighbors will not
have the heart to send them away."

"But what would you have them to do? They do not eat now as much as they
want, and they are obliged to take it out of the mouths of their own to
give it to mine. No, no--do you see, I must be cured in eight days. I have
already demanded it from all the doctors I have seen since yesterday, but
they answered me, laughing, 'You must address yourself to the chief
physician for that.' When will he come, La Lorraine?"

"Chut! I think he is there. We must not talk while he is making his visit,"
answered La Lorraine.

During the conversation of the two women the day commenced to dawn. A
confused movement announced the arrival of Dr. Griffon, who soon entered
the hall, accompanied by his friend the Count de Saint Rémy, who, having a
deep interest in Madame de Fermont and her daughter, was far from expecting
to find the latter unfortunate girl in the hospital. As he came into the
ward, the cold and stern features of Dr. Griffon seemed to light up with a
glow of satisfaction. Casting around him a look of complacency and
authority, he answered with a patronizing bend of the head the eager
greetings of the sisters. The rough and austere physiognomy of the Count de
Saint Rémy was stamped with deep sadness. The fruitlessness of his attempts
to discover traces of Madame de Fermont, the ignominious conduct of his
son, who had preferred an infamous life to death, crushed him to the ground
with sorrow.

"Well!" said Dr. Griffon to the count with a triumphant air, "what do you
think of my hospital?"

"In truth," answered Saint Rémy, "I do not know why I have yielded to your
desire; nothing is more heart-rending than the aspect of these wards filled
with sick. Since my entrance here my feelings quite overcome me."

"Bah! bah! in fifteen minutes you will think no more about it; you, who are
a philosopher, will find ample matter for observation: and then it would
have been a shame that you, one of my oldest friends, should not visit the
theater of my labors--of my glory, that you should not see me at my work.
All my pride is in my profession; is it wrong?"

"No, certainly not; and after your excellent care of Fleur-de-Marie, whom
you have saved, I could refuse you nothing. Poor child! what touching
charms her features have preserved, notwithstanding her dangerous illness!"

"She has furnished me with a very curious medical fact; I am enchanted with
her! By the bye, how has she passed this night? Did you see her this
morning before you left Asnières?"

"No, but La Louve, who nurses her with unceasing assiduity, told me that
she had slept perfectly well. Can we allow her to write today?"

After a moment's hesitation, the doctor answered, "Yes. As long as the
subject was not completely convalescent, I feared the slightest emotion for
her, the slightest application of mind; but now I do not see that any
inconvenience can arise from her writing."

"At least she could inform her friends."

"Doubtless. Have you heard nothing more concerning the fate of Madame de
Fermont and her daughter?"

"Nothing," said Saint Rémy, sighing. "My constant researches have no
success. I have no more hope but in Lady d'Harville, who, as I am told,
also takes a lively interest in these unfortunates; perhaps she may have
some information which might lead to her discovery. Three days ago I went
to her residence; she was expected to arrive every moment. I have written
to her on this subject, begging her to answer me as soon as possible."

During the conversation of Saint Rémy and Dr. Griffon, several persons had
slowly assembled around a large table occupying the middle of the hall; on
this table was a register, where the students attached to the hospital, who
might be recognized by their long white aprons, came in turn to sign their
names as being present; a large number of young students arrived
successively to swell the scientific retinue of Dr. Griffon, who, arriving
a few moments in advance of his usual hour, waited until it struck.

"You see, my dear Saint Rémy, that my staff is quite considerable," said
Dr. Griffon, with pride, pointing to the crowd who came to attend to his
practical instruction.

"And these young men follow you to the bed of each patient?"

"They only come for that."

"But all these beds are occupied by women."

"Well?"

"The presence of so many men must cause them much painful confusion?"

"Tush, a patient has no sex."

"In your eyes, perhaps; but in their own--modesty, shame."

"All these fine things must be left at the door, my dear Alceste; here we
commence on the living experiments and studies which we finish in the
dissecting room on the corpse."

"Hold, doctor; you are the best and the most honest of men; I owe you my
life; I recognize your excellent qualities; but habit and the love of your
profession make you view certain questions in a manner that is revolting to
me. I leave you," said Saint Rémy, turning to leave the hall.

"What childishness!" cried the doctor, detaining him.

"No, no--there are some things which wound me and make me indignant; I
foresee that it will be torture for me to accompany you. I will not go, but
I will await you here, near this table."

"What a man you are with your scruples! But I will not let you off. I admit
it may be unpleasant for you to go from bed to bed; remain, then, there; I
will call you for two or three cases which are very curious."

"Very well; since you are so very urgent, that will be enough, and more
than enough."

The clock struck half-past seven.

"Come, gentlemen," said Dr. Griffon, and he commenced his visits, followed
by a numerous train.

On arriving at the first bed of the range of the night, of which the
curtains were closed, the sister said to the doctor,

"Sir, number one died this morning at half-past four."

"So late? that surprises me; yesterday morning I would not have given her
the day: has the body been claimed?"

"No, doctor."

"So much the better--we can proceed with the autopsy; I can make some one
happy;" then, addressing one of the students, the doctor added, "My dear
Dunnoyer, you have wished for a subject for a long time; you are the first
on the list; this one is yours."

"Ah! sir, how kind you are!"

"I could wish oftener to recompense your zeal, my dear friend; but mark the
subject, and take possession."

And the doctor passed on. The student, with the aid of a scalpel, cut very
delicately on the arm of the actress an F and a D, in order to take
possession, as the doctor said.

"La Lorraine," whispered Jeanne Duport to her neighbor, "who are all these
people that follow the doctor?"

"They are pupils and students."

"Oh! will all these young men be there when he examines me?"

"Alas! yes."

"But it is on my chest I am injured. Will they examine me before all these
men?"

"Yes, yes, it must be so--they wish it. I wept enough the first time--I was
dying with shame; I resisted, they threatened to turn me away; I was
obliged to summit, but it affected me so much that I was worse. Judge,
then, almost naked before so many people--it is very painful."

"Before the physician alone--I comprehend that--if it is necessary--and
even that costs much. But why before all these young men?"

"They are learning; they teach them with us. What would we have? we are
here for that; it is on this condition that we are received here."

"Ah! I comprehend," said Jeanne Duport, with bitterness; "they do not give
us something for nothing. But yet, there are occasions where this could not
be. Thus, if my poor daughter Catharine, who is but fifteen, should come to
a hospital, would they dare before all these young men? Oh! no, I think I
would prefer to see her die at home."

"If she came here, she would have to obey the rules, like you, like me."

"Hush, La Lorraine; if this poor little lady who is opposite should hear
us--she who was rich, who perhaps has never before left her mother--it is
going to be her turn--judge how confused and unhappy she will be."

"It is true, it is true; I shudder when I think of it, poor child!"

"Silence, Jeanne, here is the doctor!" said La Lorraine.




CHAPTER XIX.

CLAIRE DE FERMONT.


After having rapidly visited several patients whose cases presented no
great interest, the doctor at length reached the bed of Jeanne Duport.

At the sight of the eager crowd, who, anxious to see and to know, to
understand and to learn, pressed around her bed, the unhappy woman, seized
with a tremor of fear and shame, wrapped herself closely in the covering.
The severe and intelligent face of Dr. Griffon, his penetrating look, his
brow habitually contracted, his rough manner of speaking, augmented still
more the alarm of Jeanne.

"A new subject!" said the doctor, casting his eye on the card where was
inscribed the nature of the malady of the new-comer. He preserved a
profound silence, while his assistants, imitating the prince of science,
fixed their eyes on the patient with curiosity. She, to throw aside as much
as possible all the painful emotions caused by so many spectators, looked
steadily at the doctor, with deep anguish.

After an examination of several minutes, the doctor, remarking something
anomalous in the yellowish tint of the eyeball, approached nearer to her,
and with the end of his finger pushing back the eyelid, he examined the
crystalline lens. Then several students, answering to a kind of mute
invitation of their professor, went, in turn, to observe the appearance of
the eye. Afterward the doctor proceeded to this interrogatory: "Your name?"

"Jeanne Duport," murmured the patient, more and more alarmed.

"Your age?"

"Thirty-six and a half."

"Louder. Born in--"

"Paris."

"Your occupation?"

"Fringe-maker."

"Married?"

"Alas! yes, sir," answered Jeanne, with a deep sigh.

"How long since?"

"Eighteen years."

"Any children?" Here, instead of answering, the unhappy mother gave vent to
her tears, for a long time restrained.

"We do not want tears, but an answer. Have you any children?"

"Yes, sir, two little boys and a girl."

"How long have you been sick?"

"For four days, sir," said Jeanne, wiping her eyes.

"Tell me how you became sick."

"Sir, there are so many people, I do not dare."

"Where do you come from, my dear?" said the doctor, impatiently. "Would you
not like me to bring a confessional here? Come, speak, and be quick. Be
composed, we are quite a family party--quite a large family, as you see,"
added the prince of science, who was on that day in a gay humor. "Come, let
us finish."

More and more intimidated, Jeanne said, stammering and hesitating at each
word, "I had, sir, a quarrel with my husband, on the subject of my
children; I mean to say, of my eldest daughter. He wished take her away.
I--you comprehend, sir,--I did not wish it, on account of a vile woman, who
might give bad advice to my child; then my husband, who was drunk--oh! yes,
sir, except for that he would not have done it--my husband pushed me very
hard; I fell, and--then, a short time after, I began to throw up blood."

"Ta, ta, ta; your husband pushed you, and you fell. You set it off very
nicely. He has certainly done more than push you; he must have struck you
very hard, and what is more, several times. Perhaps, also, he has trampled
you under foot. Come, answer! tell the truth."

"Ah! sir, I assure you he was drunk, otherwise he would not have been so
wicked."

"Good or wicked, drunk or sober, it has nothing to do with present matters;
I am not a magistrate, my good woman; I only wish to establish a fact. You
have been knocked down and trampled upon, have you not?"

"Alas! yes, sir," said Jeanne, bursting into tears; "and yet I have never
given him cause for complaint. I work as much as I can, and I--"

"The epigastrium must be painful? you must feel a great heat there?" said
the doctor, interrupting Jeanne; "you must experience lassitude,
uneasiness, nausea?"

"Yes, sir. I only came here at the last extremity, otherwise I would not
have abandoned my children, for whom I am so much worried; and then
Catharine--ah! it is on her account I fear the most. If you knew--"

"Your tongue!" said the doctor, again interrupting the patient.

This order appeared so strange to Jeanne, who had thought to excite
feelings of compassion in the doctor, that she did not at first comply with
it, but looked at him with amazement.

"Let us see this tongue, of which you make so good use," said the doctor,
smiling; then he held down, with the end of his finger, her under jaw.

After causing the students to examine the tongue closely, in order to
ascertain its color and dryness, the doctor stepped back a moment. Jeanne,
overcoming her fear, cried in a trembling voice:

"Sir, I am going to tell you. Some neighbors, as poor as myself, have been
kind enough to take charge of my Children, but for eight days only. That is
a great deal. At the end of this time I must return home. Thus, I entreat
you, for the love of heaven! cure me as soon as possible--or _almost_
cure me, so that I can get up and work. I have only a week before me,
for--"

"Face discolored--state of prostration complete; yet the pulse hard,
strong, and frequent," said the imperturbable doctor, looking at Jeanne.
"Remark it well, gentlemen: oppression--heat at the epigastrium, all these
symptoms certainly announce _hematemesis_, probably complicated with
hepatitis, caused by domestic sorrows, as the yellowish coloration of the
globe of the eye indicates; the subject has received violent blows in the
regions of epigastrium and abdomen; the vomiting of blood is necessarily
caused by some organic lesion of certain viscera. On this subject I will
call your attention to a very curious point--very curious. The
_post-mortem_ examinations of those who die with the complaint of
which this _subject_ is attacked, offer results singularly variable;
often the malady, very acute and very serious, carries off the patient in a
few days, and leaves no traces of its existence; at other times, the
spleen, the liver, the pancreas, present lesions more or less serious. It
is probable that the _subject_ before us has suffered some of these
lesions; we are going, then, to try to assure ourselves of this fact, and
you--you will also assure yourselves by an attentive examination of the
patient." And, with a rapid movement, Dr. Griffon, throwing the bed-clothes
back, almost entirely uncovered Jeanne. It is repugnant to our feelings to
depict the piteous struggles of this poor creature, who wept bitterly from
shame, imploring the doctor and his auditory to leave her.

But at the threat, "You will be turned out of the hospital if you do not
submit to the established usages"--a threat so overwhelming for those to
whom the hospital is the last resource, Jeanne submitted to a public
investigation, which lasted for a long time--a very long time; for the
doctor analyzed and explained each symptom, and the more studious of the
assistants wished to join practice to theory, and have an ocular assurance
of the state of the patient. As a consequence of this cruel scene, Jeanne
experienced an emotion so violent that she had a severe nervous attack, for
which Dr. Griffon gave an additional prescription. The visit was continued.
The doctor soon reached the bed of Claire de Fermont, a victim, as well as
her mother, of the cupidity of Jacques Ferrand. Miss de Fermont wearing the
linen cap furnished by the hospital, leaned her head in a languishing
manner on the bolster of her bed; through the ravages of sickness could be
traced, on this ingenuous and sweet face, the remains of distinguished
beauty. After a night of bitter anguish, the poor child had fallen into a
kind of feverish stupor before the doctor and his scientific cortège
entered the hall; thus the noise attending his visit had not yet awakened
her.

"A new _subject_, gentlemen," said the prince of the science, running
his eye over the card which a student presented to him. "Disease, _slow
fever_--nervous. Plague on it!" cried the doctor, with an expression of
profound satisfaction; "if the attending physician is not mistaken in his
diagnostic, it is a most excellent windfall; I have desired a slow nervous
fever for a long time, as this is not a malady of the poor. These
affections are caused in almost every case by serious perturbations in the
social position of the _subject_; and it cannot be denied that the
more the position is elevated, the more profound are the perturbations. It
is, besides, an affection the more to be remarked from its peculiar
character. It is traced back to the highest antiquity; the writings of
Hippocrates leave no doubt on this subject--it is very plain; this fever,
as I have said, is almost always caused by violent sorrows. Now, sorrow is
as old as the world; yet, what is singular, before the eighteenth century,
this malady was not described by any author; it is Huxman who did so much
honor to the profession at this epoch--it is Huxman, I say, who was the
first to give a monograph of the nervous fever--a monograph which has
become classic; and yet it was a malady of the old school," added the
doctor, laughing. "It belongs to this grand, ancient, and illustrious
_febris_ family, of which the origin is lost in the night of time. But
do not let us rejoice too much; let us, in effect, see if we have the
happiness to possess a specimen of this curious affection. It would be
doubly desirable, for I have wished for a long time to test the internal
use of phosphorus--yes, gentlemen," repeated the doctor, on hearing a kind
of murmur of curiosity among his auditory, "yes, gentlemen, phosphorus; it
is a very curious experiment which I wish to make--it is bold! but
_audaces fortuna juvant_--and the occasion will be excellent. We are
going, in the first place, to examine if the _subject_ presents on all
parts of the body, and especially on the breast, this miliary eruption, so
symptomatic, according to Huxman: and you will assure yourselves, by
feeling the subject, of the kind of rugosity this eruption causes. But do
not let us sell the skin of the bear before we bring him to the ground,"
added the prince of science, who was unusually jocular.

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