"Well?"
"I should die."
"You are mad."
"My heart is here, brother; my life is here."
Joyeuse crossed his arms with a mixture of anger and pity. "If our father," he said, "begged you to let yourself be attended by Miron, who is at once a philosopher and a doctor?"
"I should reply to my father that I am well and that my brain is sound, and that Miron cannot cure love sickness."
"Well, then, Henri, I must make the best of it. She is but a woman, and at my return I hope to see you more joyous than myself."
"Yes, yes, my good brother, I shall be cured—I shall be happy, thanks to your friendship, which is my most precious possession."
"After your love."
"Before my life."