"Take this, old rascal!" said the duke, offering his purse to
Beauvouloir, "and treat him like the son of a king! If he dies by your
fault, I'll burn you myself on a gridiron."
"If you continue to be so violent, the Duc de Nivron will die by your
own act," said the doctor, roughly. "Leave him now; he will go to
sleep."
"Good-night, my love," said the old man, kissing his son upon the
forehead.
"Good-night, father," replied the youth, whose voice made the father
--thus named by Etienne for the first time--quiver.
The duke took Beauvouloir by the arm and led him to the next room,
where, having pushed him into the recess of a window, he said:--
"Ah ca! old rascal, now we will understand each other."
That term, a favorite sign of graciousness with the duke, made the
doctor, no longer a mere bonesetter, smile.
"You know," said the duke, continuing, "that I wish you no harm. You
have twice delivered my poor Jeanne, you cured my son Maximilien of an
illness, in short, you are a part of my household. Poor Maximilien! I
will avenge him; I take upon myself to kill the man who killed him.
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