V

One day Bianchon spoke to Desplein of a poor water-carrier of the

Saint-Jacques district, who had a horrible disease caused by

fatigue and want; this wretched Auvergnat had had nothing but

potatoes to eat during the dreadful winter of 1821. Desplein left

all his visits, and at the risk of killing his horse, he rushed

off, followed by Bianchon, to the poor man's dwelling, and saw,

himself, to his being removed to a sick house, founded by the

famous Dubois in the Faubourg Saint-Denis. Then he went to attend

the man, and when he had cured him he gave him the necessary sum

to buy a horse and a water-barrel. This Auvergnat distinguished

himself by an amusing action. One of his friends fell ill, and he

took him at once to Desplein, saying to his benefactor, "I could

not have borne to let him go to any one else!"

Rough customer as he was, Desplein grasped the water-carrier's

hand, and said, "Bring them all to me."

He got the native of Cantal into the Hotel-Dieu, where he took

the greatest care of him. Bianchon had already observed in his

chief a predilection for Auvergnats, and especially for water

carriers; but as Desplein took a sort of pride in his cures at

the Hotel-Dieu, the pupil saw nothing very strange in that.

One day, as he crossed the Place Saint-Sulpice, Bianchon caught

sight of his master going into the church at about nine in the

morning. Desplein, who at that time never went a step without his

cab, was on foot, and slipped in by the door in the Rue du Petit-

Lion, as if he were stealing into some house of ill fame. The

house surgeon, naturally possessed by curiosity, knowing his

master's opinions, and being himself a rabid follower of Cabanis

(Cabaniste en dyable, with the y, which in Rabelais seems to

convey an intensity of devilry)--Bianchon stole into the church,

and was not a little astonished to see the great Desplein, the

atheist, who had no mercy on the angels--who give no work to the

lancet, and cannot suffer from fistula or gastritis--in short,

this audacious scoffer kneeling humbly, and where? In the Lady

Chapel, where he remained through the mass, giving alms for the

expenses of the service, alms for the poor, and looking as

serious as though he were superintending an operation.

"He has certainly not come here to clear up the question of the

Virgin's delivery," said Bianchon to himself, astonished beyond

measure. "If I had caught him holding one of the ropes of the

canopy on Corpus Christi day, it would be a thing to laugh at;

but at this hour, alone, with no one to see--it is surely a thing

to marvel at!"