“Sherry, Malaga, Alicant—every wine in my cellar is at your disposal.”
Gorenflot looked at Chicot in amazement.
For three following days Gorenflot got drunk, first on sherry, next on Malaga, then on Alicant; afterwards he declared he liked Burgundy best, and returned to that. Meanwhile, Chicot had never stirred from his room, and had constantly watched Nicolas David, who, having appointed to meet Pierre de Gondy at this inn, would not leave the house. On the morning of the sixth day he declared himself ill, and the next day worse. Bernouillet came joyfully to tell Chicot.
“What! do you think him in danger?”
“High fever, my dear brother; he is delirious, and tried to strangle me and beat my servants. The doctors do not understand his complaint.”
“Have you seen him?”
“Yes; I tell you he tried to strangle me.”
“How did he seem?”
“Pale and furious, and constantly crying out.”
“What?”