something: marched straight up to the doctor, and said to him:
"Monsieur, my uncle's illness is not the only motive which brought me here."
"Ah! ah!" murmured M. Morlot, who thought he saw a ray of hope.
The young man continued:
"You have a daughter."
"At last!" cried the poor uncle. "You'll bear witness that he said, 'You have a daughter!'"
The doctor replied to François: "Yes, Monsieur. Explain—"
"You have a daughter, Mlle. Claire Auvray."
"There it is! There it is! I told you that very thing!"
"Yes, monsieur," said the doctor.
"Three months since, she was at the Ems Springs with her mother."
"Bravo! bravo!" yelled M. Morlot.
"Yes, monsieur," responded the doctor.
M. Morlot ran up to the doctor and said: "You're not the doctor! You're one of the patients!"
"My friend," replied the doctor, "if you don't behave yourself, we'll have to give you a shower-bath."
M. Morlot recoiled, frightened. His nephew continued:
"Monsieur, I love Mademoiselle—your daughter. I have some hope that I'm loved in return,
