but the staircase between us."
Genestas was again surprised when he entered the doctor's room, a

bare-looking apartment with no adornment on the walls save an old-
fashioned wall-paper of a yellowish tint with a pattern of brown roses

over it; the color had gone in patches here and there. There was a
roughly painted iron bedstead, two gray cotton curtains were suspended

from a woodenbracket above it, and a threadbare strip of carpet lay
at the foot; it was like a bed in a hospital. By the bed-head stood a

rickety cupboard on four feet with a door that continually rattled
with a sound like castanets. Three chairs and a couple of straw-

bottomed armchairs stood about the room, and on a low chest of drawers
in walnut wood stood a basin, and a ewer of obsolete pattern with a

lid, which was kept in place by a leaden rim round the top of the
vessel. This completed the list of the furniture.

The grate was empty. All the apparatus required for shaving lay about
in front of an old mirror suspended above the painted stone chimney-

piece by a bit of string. The floor was clean and carefully swept, but
it was worn and splintered in various places, and there were hollows

in it here and there. Gray cotton curtains bordered with a green
fringe adorned the two windows. The scrupulous cleanliness maintained

by Jacquotte gave a certain air of distinction to this picture of
simplicity, but everything in it, down to the round table littered

with stray papers, and the very pens on the writing-desk, gave the
idea of an almost monastic life--a life so wholly filled with thought

and feeling of a wider kind that outward surroundings had come to be
matters of no moment. An open door allowed the commandant to see the

smaller room, which doubtless the doctor seldom occupied. It was
scarcely kept in the same condition as the adjoining apartment; a few

dusty books lay strewn about over the no less dusty shelves, and from
the rows of labeled bottles it was easy to guess that the place was

devoted rather to the dispensing of drugs than scientific studies.
"Why this difference between your room and mine, you will ask?" said

Benassis. "Listen a moment. I have always blushed for those who put
their guests in the attics, who furnish them with mirrors that distort

everything to such a degree that any one beholding himself might think
that he was smaller or larger than nature made him, or suffering from

apoplectic stroke or some other bad complaint. Ought we not to do our
utmost to make a room as pleasant as possible during the time that our

friend can be with us? Hospitality, to my thinking, is a virtue, a
pleasure, and a luxury; but in whatever light it is considered, nay,

even if you regard it as a speculation, ought not our guest or our
friend to be made much of? Ought not every refinement of luxury to be

reserved for him?
"So the best furniture is put into your room, where a thick carpet is

laid down; there are hangings on the walls, and a clock and wax
candles; and for you Jacquotte will do her best, she has no doubt

brought a night-light, and a pair of new slippers and some milk, and
her warming-pan too for your benefit. I hope that you will find that

luxurious armchair the most comfortable seat you have ever sat in, it
was a discovery of the late cure's; I do not know where he found it,

but it is a fact that if you wish to meet with the perfection of
comfort, beauty, or convenience, you must ask counsel of the Church.

Well, I hope that you will find everything in your room to your
liking. You will find some good razors and excellent soap, and all the

trifling details that make one's own home so pleasant. And if my views
on the subject of hospitality should not at once explain the

difference between your room and mine, to-morrow, M. Bluteau, you will
arrive at a wonderfully clear comprehension of the bareness of my room

and the untidy condition of my study, when you see all the continual
comings and goings here. Mine is not an indoor life, to begin with. I

am almost always out of the house, and if I stay at home, peasants
come in at every moment to speak to me. My body and soul and house are

all theirs. Why should I worry about social conventions in these
matters, or trouble myself over the damage unintentionally done to

floors and furniture by these worthy folk? Such things cannot be
helped. Luxury properly belongs to the boudoir and the guest-chamber,

to great houses and chateaux. In short, as I scarcely do more than
sleep here, what do I want with superfluities of wealth? You do not

know, moreover, how little I care for anything in this world."
They wished each other a friendly good-night with a warm shake of the

hand, and went to bed. But before the commandant slept, he came to
more than one conclusion as to the man who hour by hour grew greater

in his eyes.
CHAPTER II

A DOCTOR'S ROUND
The first thing next morning Genestas went to the stable, drawn

thither by the affection" target="_blank" title="n.友爱；慈爱">affection that every man feels for the horse that he
rides. Nicolle's method of rubbing down the animal was quite

satisfactory.
"Up already, Commandant Bluteau?" cried Benassis, as he came upon his

guest. "You hear the drum beat in the morning wherever you go, even in
the country! You are a regular soldier!"

"Are you all right?" replied Genestas, holding out his hand with a
friendly gesture.

"I am never really all right," answered Benassis, half merrily, half
sadly.

"Did you sleep well, sir?" inquired Jacquotte.
"Faith, yes, my beauty; the bed as you made it was fit for a queen."

Jacquotte's face beamed as she followed her master and his guest, and
when she had seen them seat themselves at table, she remarked to

Nicolle:
"He is not a bad sort, after all, that officer gentleman."

"I am sure he is not, he has given me two francs already."
"We will begin to-day by calling at two places where there have been

deaths," Benassis said to his visitor as they left the dining-room.
"Although doctors seldom deign to confront their supposed victims, I

will take you round to the two houses, where you will be able to make
some interesting observations of human nature; and the scenes to which

you will be a witness will show you that in the expression of their
feelings our folk among the hills differ greatly from the dwellers in

the lowlands. Up among the mountain peaks in our canton they cling to
customs that bear the impress of an older time, and that vaguely

recall scenes in the Bible. Nature has traced out a line over our
mountain ranges; the whole appearance of the country is different on

either side of it. You will find strength of character up above,
flexibility and quickness below; they have larger ways of regarding

things among the hills, while the bent of the lowlands is always
towards the material interests of existence. I have never seen a

difference so strongly marked, unless it has been in the Val d'Ajou,
where the northern side is peopled by a tribe of idiots, and the

southern by an intelligent race. There is nothing but a stream in the
valley bottom to separate these two populations, which are utterly

dissimilar in every respect, as different in face and stature as in
manners, customs, and occupation. A fact of this kind should compel

those who govern a country to make very extensive studies of local
differences before passing laws that are to affect the great mass of

the people. But the horses are ready, let us start!"
In a short time the two horsemen reached a house in a part of the

township that was overlooked by the mountains of the Grande
Chartreuse. Before the door of the dwelling, which was fairly clean

and tidy, they saw a coffin set upon two chairs, and covered with a
black pall. Four tall candles stood about it, and on a stool near by

there was a shallow brass dish full of holy water, in which a branch
of green box-wood was steeping. Every passer-by went into the yard,

knelt by the side of the dead, said a Pater noster, and sprinkled a
few drops of holy water on the bier. Above the black cloth that

covered the coffin rose the green sprays of a jessamine that grew
beside the doorway, and a twisted vine shoot, already in leaf, overran

the lintel. Even the saddest ceremonies demand that things shall
appear to the best advantage, and in obedience to this vaguely-felt

requirement a young girl had been sweeping the front of the house. The
dead man's eldest son, a young peasant about twenty-two years of age,

stood motionless, leaning against the door-post. The tears in his eyes
came and went without falling, or perhaps he furtively brushed them