Gilbert was too skillful a physician not to see how grave the invalid was. He bled him and the black blood relieved the sufferer.
"You are a downright great man," said he.
"And you a great blockhead to risk a life so precious to your friends for a few hours of fictitious pleasure," retorted his deliverer.
The orator smiled almost ironically, in melancholy.
"I think you exaggerate and that my friends and France do not hold me so dear."
"Upon my honor," replied Gilbert laughing, "great men complain of ingratitude and they are really the ungrateful ones. If it were a most serious malady of yours, all Paris would flock under your window; were you to die, all France would come to your obsequies."
"What you say is very consoling, let me tell you," said the other, merrily.
"It is just because you can see one without risking the other that I say it, and indeed, you need a great public demonstration to restore your morale. Let me take you to Paris within a couple of hours, my dear count; let me tell the first man on the street corner that you are ailing and you will see the excitement."
"I would go if you put off the departure till this evening, and let me meet you at my house in Paris at eleven."