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entanglements I might have been involved had it not been
for Arcangelo Fusco. Even so, it was a close
shave. I was very nearly arrested for murder.[1]
Arcangelo Fusco who had a rose tucked over his
ear, Italian fashion, presented his flower with
southern gallantry to the Countess who looked
as if she had never received a more graceful tribute
to her fair youth. It was too late to go to the
Jardin des Plantes, so I drove the Countess
straight to her hôtel. She was very silent, so I
tried to cheer her up by telling her the funny
story about the kind lady who had by accident
read a little paper of mine about dolls in
‘Blackwood’s Magazine’ and had taken to making
dolls by the dozen for the poor children I was
speaking about. Hadn’t she noticed how
beautifully some of the dolls were dressed up? Yes,
she had noticed it. Was the lady pretty? Yes,
very. Was she in Paris? No, I had had to stop
her making more dolls, as I had ended by having
more dolls than patients, and I had sent the lady
to St. Moritz for a change of air. On saying
good-bye to the Countess before her hôtel I
expressed my regrets that there had been no time
to visit the gorilla in the Jardin des Plantes but
I hoped that anyhow she had not been sorry to
have come with me.
“I am not sorry, I am so grateful, but, but,
but . . . I am so ashamed,” she sobbed as she
sprang in through the gate of her hôtel.
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