Parpon himself had tried to summon her to Valmond's bedside,
for he knew well her skill with herbs, but the little hut was empty, and
he could get no trace of her. She had disappeared the night Valmond was
seized of the fever, and she came back to her little home in the very
hour that Elise visited her. The girl found her boiling herbs before a
big fire. She was stirring the pot diligently, now and then sprinkling in
what looked like a brown dust, and watching the brew intently.
She nodded, but did not look at Elise, and said crossly:
"Come in, come in, and shut the door, silly."
"Madame," said the girl, "His Excellency has the black fever."
"What of that?" she returned irritably.
"I thought maybe your herbs could cure him. You've cured others, and this
is an awful sickness. Ah, won't you save him, if you can?"
"What are you to him, pale-face?" she said, her eyes peering into the
pot.
"Nothing more to him than you are, madame," the girl answered wearily.
"I'll cure because I want, not because you ask me, pretty brat."
Elise's heart gave a leap: these very herbs were for Valmond! The old
woman had travelled far to get the medicaments immediately she had heard
of Valmond's illness.
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