Sometimes he was accompanied by the physician, a large man, very much dressed and perfumed, who panted for breath after climbing the five flights of stairs.

Once Amedee saw this stranger put his arms around his mother as she sat in her bed, and lay his head for a long time against her back.

The child asked, "What for, mamma ?" M.Violette, more nervous than ever, and continually throwing back the rebellious lock behind his ear, would accompany the doctor to the door and stop there to talk with him.

Then Amedee's mother would call to him, and he would climb upon the bed, where she would gaze at him with her bright eyes and press him to her breast, saying, in a sad tone, as if she pitied him: "My poor little Medee! My poor little Medee!" Why was it?
What did it all mean?
His father would return with a forced smile which was pitiful to see.
"Well, what did the doctor say ?" "Oh, nothing, nothing! You are much better.

Only, my poor Lucie, we must put on another blister to-night." Oh, how monotonous and slow these days were to the little Amedee, near the drowsy invalid, in the close room smelling of drugs, where only the old snuff-taker entered once an hour to bring a cup of tea or put charcoal upon the fire! Sometimes their neighbor, Madame Gerard, would come to inquire after the sick lady.
"Still very feeble, my good Madame Gerard," his mother would respond.
"Ah, I am beginning to get discouraged." But Madame Gerard would not let her be despondent.
"You see, Madame Violette, it is this horrible, endless winter.