Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - VI. Château Rameaux
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and turned again to look at his tongue in the
mirror. He made a desperate effort to laugh,
which however did not succeed.
“Do you mean to say that, do you think, do
you mean to say . . .”
“I do not mean to say anything, I have not
said anything, I am not your doctor.”
“But what am I to do?” he stammered.
“You are to go to bed, the sooner the better,
or you will have to be carried there.” I went to
the mantelpiece and rang the bell.
“Take the Vicomte to his room,” I said to
the footman, “and tell his valet to put him to
bed at once.”
Leaning heavily on the arm of the footman,
the Vicomte reeled to the door.
I went for a beautiful ride next morning all by
myself, and there was the lark again high up in
the sky, singing his morning hymn to the sun.
“I have avenged the murder of your brothers,”
said I to the skylark. “We will see about the
swallows later on.”
While I was sitting in my room having
breakfast with Leo, there was a knock at the door
and in came a timid-looking little man who
saluted me most politely. It was the village
doctor who said he had come to pay his respects
to his Paris colleague. I was much flattered and
begged him to sit down and have a cigarette.
He told me about some interesting cases he had
had of late, the conversation began to languish
and he stood up to go.
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