“Stop, sir!” cried Vivienne, addressing the doctor. Turning to her brother, she said:
“You cannot mean it! You cannot be so cruel, so utterly heartless, as to carry out such a farce as this! I must be dreaming!”
The doctor nodded his head. Pascal saw the movement and understood.
“I know, I know, my dear,” said the doctor. “Yes, it is a dream, but you will be much better when you awake to-morrow. You will get up looking as fresh as a rose, and you shall have a nice drive with my wife. Would you not like to go with me to Salvanetra and see the pretty house in which I live?”
Vivienne turned her face away. She could not answer, for she already loathed the man.
“Doctor,” said Pascal, “I wish her to have the best of care.”
“All my patients get that,” the doctor replied, blandly.
“She is in good bodily health,” Pascal continued. “Give her no nostrums. I do not believe in them.”
“Neither do I,” said the doctor. Until his patients were under his charge, he always agreed with the ideas of their relatives and friends. There is a saying that some persons are “All things to all men,” and there are none who so fully exemplify it as those who have charge of the insane.
“Pascal,” cried Vivienne, “you mistake me much if you think I will tamely submit to this terrible outrage. I will die first!”