MacPherson My journal consists of words without paper. For I have written in my mind—in three little chapters—our departure, our trip, our return.
Countess
Here's a well-ordered explanation.
MacPherson With regard to the first, Mr. Bramble was very ridiculous, very ridiculous. He said he'd been married to his wife for ten years without children, and it was to cure sterility that he was going to the waters. So much for what he said as soon as he arrived.
Countess
If this story wasn't so funny, it would make me very impatient.
MacPherson In the second chapter, your bailiff was also very ridiculous. For I like wine, and he went to the waters to drink water, and in this water, he found, in place of virility—illness-so much illness, that he is dying.
Countess
Now, we're at the point. Bramble thought he was dying and is not dead.
Listen, you must tell his wife that when her husband was dying—he
died.
MacPherson Ha, ha, ha. When one finds the widow of a living man, we'll have a good laugh.
Countess
When is he coming? Where did you leave him?
MacPherson I left him yesterday, about thirty leagues from here, when his coach broke down. Go on ahead, he said, for I'm likely to be sick here until tomorrow, and my coach won't be ready till Monday. I will come on Tuesday.
(Exit MacPherson and Mrs. MacPherson.)