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deafness, of course I know the Marquise doesn’t want to see any
more doctors, and who does! but could it not be arranged
that he saw her in some sort of unofficial way? I would not
at all be surprised if the root of it all was colitis.
P.S. I would not mind asking the doctor to dinner here
one day if you could persuade the Marquise to dine here,
en petit comité, of course. Do you know he discovered I
had colitis only by looking at me through his spectacles?
Besides, I want my husband to make his acquaintance,
though he does not like doctors more than does your
mother-in-law. I am sure he will like this one.”
A week later I had the unexpected honour to be
invited to dinner at the Countess’ hôtel in
Faubourg St. Germain, and to sit next to the Dowager
Marquise, respectfully watching her with my
eagle eye while she devoured an enormous plate
of pâté de foie gras in majestic aloofness. She
never said a word to me, and my timid attempts
to open a conversation came to a standstill when
I discovered that she was stone-deaf. After
dinner Monsieur le Comte took me to the
smoking-room. He was a most polite little man, very fat,
with a placid, almost shy face, at least twice the
age of his wife, every inch a gentleman. Offering
me a cigarette, he said with great effusion:
“I cannot thank you enough for having cured
my wife of appendicitis—the very word is
hateful to me. I frankly confess I have taken a great
dislike to doctors. I have seen so many of them
and so far none seems to have been able to do my
wife any good, though I must add she never gave
any of them a fair chance before she was off to
another. I had better warn you, I am sure it will
be the same with you.”
“I am not so sure of that.”
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