bed. I dressed myself, without Germain's help; you asked me to go with you to Dr. Auvray's; I refused; you insisted; I got angry; Germain helped you to tie my hands; I'll discharge him to-night. I owe him thirteen days' wages: that is thirteen francs, as I engaged him at thirty francs a month. You owe him damages: you are the cause of his losing his Christmas-gift. Is this reasoning? And do you still think you can make me out crazy? Ah! my dear uncle, take a better view of things! Remember that my mother was your sister! What would she say—my poor mother!—if she were to see me here? I bear you no ill-will, and everything can be arranged pleasantly. You have a daughter, Mlle. Claire Morlot. . . ."
"Ah! there I have you! You see clearly enough that you are out of your head. I have a daughter? I? But I'm a bachelor. A confirmed bachelor!"
"You have a daughter," replied François mechanically.
"My poor nephew! Let us see. Listen to me carefully. Have you a cousin?"
"A cousin? No. I have no cousin. Oh! you won't find me out of my reckoning; I have no cousins of either sex."
"I am your uncle; is n't that so?"
"Yes, you are my uncle, although you forgot it this morning."
