Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - VI. Château Rameaux
<< prev. page << föreg. sida << >> nästa sida >> next page >>
Below is the raw OCR text
from the above scanned image.
Do you see an error? Proofread the page now!
Här nedan syns maskintolkade texten från faksimilbilden ovan.
Ser du något fel? Korrekturläs sidan nu!
This page has been proofread at least once.
(diff)
(history)
Denna sida har korrekturlästs minst en gång.
(skillnad)
(historik)
“You have a very nasty tongue,” said I
gravely, after a moment’s silence, “a very nasty
tongue!” He turned round immediately to
examine his tongue in the mirror—the ugly,
coated tongue of the inveterate smoker. I took
his hand and felt his pulse, slashed to fever speed
by a bottle of champagne and three brandies
and sodas.
“Your pulse is very quick,” said I.
I put my hand on his sloping forehead.
“Any headache?”
“No.”
“You will have it when you wake up
to-morrow morning, no doubt.”
The Abbé dropped his ‘Journal des Débats.’
“Unbutton your trousers,” I said sternly.
He obeyed automatically, docile like a lamb.
I gave him a rapid tap over his diaphragm,
which started a hiccup.
“Ah!” said I. Looking him fixedly in the
eyes, I said slowly: “Thank you, that is
enough.”
The Count dropped his ‘Figaro.’
The Abbé raised his arms to Heaven, his
mouth wide open.
The Vicomte stood speechless before me.
“Button your trousers,” I commanded, “and
have a brandy and soda, you will need it.” He
buttoned his trousers mechanically and gulped
down the brandy and soda I handed him.
“To your health, Monsieur le Vicomte,”
said I, raising my glass to my lips, “to your
health!”
He wiped the perspiration from his forehead
<< prev. page << föreg. sida << >> nästa sida >> next page >>
