- Project Runeberg -  The story of San Michele /
226

(1929) [MARC] Author: Axel Munthe - Tema: Medicine
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seldom opened to show a row of long pointed
teeth like those of a ferret. The colour of her
face and her fingers was a cadaverous blue, the
touch of her hand was slimy and cold like that
of a corpse. Her smile—no, I think I won’t tell
you what her smile was like, it was what Rosalie
and I feared most. Mamsell Agata only spoke
Swedish but quarrelled fluently in French and
English. I believe she must have ended by
understanding a little French or she would not
have picked up all she seemed to know about my
patients. I often found her listening behind the
door of my consulting room especially when I
received ladies. She had a great liking for dead
people, she always seemed more cheerful when one
of my patients was on the point of dying, she
seldom failed to appear on the balcony when a
funeral passed down Avenue de Villiers. She
hated children, she never forgave Rosalie for
having given a piece of the Christmas cake to the
children of the concierge. She hated my dog, she
always went about blowing Keating’s flea-powder
on the carpets and started scratching herself as
soon as she saw me, in sign of protestation. My
dog hated her from the very first, perhaps because
of the most peculiar smell which radiated from
her whole person. It reminded me of the odeur
de souris of Balzac’s Cousin Pons but with a
special blend of her own I have only noticed once
in my life. That was when many years later I
entered an abandoned tomb in the Valley of the
Kings at Thebes full of hundreds of large bats
hanging in black clusters from its walls.

Mamsell Agata never left the house except on

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