Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - VI. Château Rameaux
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as you can see is as strong as a horse, is always
fussing about his health and in constant fear of
catching all sorts of illnesses. Last time he was
staying here, the son of the gardener caught
typhoid and he left at once. He is always taking
drugs, you may have noticed he even helped
himself to some medicine during dinner.”
“Yes, it was the only moment he held his
tongue.”
“He is always consulting new doctors, it is
unfortunate that he does not like you, otherwise
I am sure you would get a new patient. . . .
What on earth are you laughing at?”
“I am laughing at something very funny that
has just passed through my head. There is
nothing better than a good laugh for a man who
is angry! You saw in what a state I was when
you came into my room. You will be glad to
hear that I am all right again now and in the
best of tempers. I have changed my mind, I
am not going away to-night. Do let us go down
and join the others in the smoking-room. I
promise you to be on my very best behaviour.”
The Vicomte, red in the face, was standing in
front of the big mirror nervously twitching his
moustache à la général Gallifet. The Count was
sitting near the window reading his ‘Figaro.’
“Quel plaisir inattendu to meet you here,
Monsieur le Suédois!” giggled the Vicomte,
screwing in his monocle as if to see better how
much I would stand. “I hope no new case of
colitis has brought you here.”
“No, not so far, but one never knows.”
“I understand you specialize in colitis, what a
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