"We were talking about the theatre," I replied.
"She's crazy!"
"Not as crazy as you think," retorted the Baroness, and left the room, slamming the door.
"She doesn't sleep at night," began the husband, growing confidential.
"No?"
"She plays the piano, she lies on the sofa, or, rather, she chooses the hours of the night to do her accounts. For heaven's sake, my dear young sage, tell me what I'm to do to put an end to this madness!"
"Perhaps if she had a large family?" I ventured.
He pulled a face, then he tried to look unconcerned.
"She was very ill after her first baby was born ... and the doctor has warned her ... and moreover, children cost so much.... You understand?"
I understood, and I took care not to refer again to the subject. I was too young at the time to know that it is the patient who orders the doctor what to prescribe for her.