“It is all dreadful,” said Gaillard. “Let us, for Heaven’s sake, sit down somewhere and think—let us, in the name of Heaven, get some brandy somewhere. I was drunk last night,—I confess it without shame,—and my nerves are in pieces. Look at my hand—is that the hand of a person who ought to be troubled? Suppose a fit were to overtake me? Well, then—yes, let us leave Paris. Oh, my God, I have odd boots on! Did you see that woman?—she laughed at them. I must have been absolutely insane all this morning not to have noticed them before. I have been walking about all the morning like this.”
“Yes, I must leave Paris at once. Come in here and sit down. Garçon, brandy, a decanter, and some Apollinaris water.”
“It is the first warning—I knew it was coming; ataxia always begins like this. My dear Toto, you know nothing about it; I have read the whole subject up in the Bibliothèque Nationale. It begins with forgetfulness in little things; one finds one’s self walking down the street in slippers, or forgetting how to spell one’s name, and one dies like a raving maniac. Then, one has tremor of the hand—look at my hand.”
“Drink some brandy,” said Toto, rousing up a bit from his own misery. “You will be all right; I have often been like that myself.”
“No matter; if I die, Pelisson will have killed me. He burst into my room absolutely like a tiger; you can fancy the shock to one in my condition. I was absolutely dragged from my bed—threatened with violence if I did not divulge all that I knew about this infamous article.”
“Don’t speak of it!” cried Toto, “don’t, don’t! I want to get to some quiet place where I know no one. Come, I am going to Struve’s rooms; I must see him and ask him to take some money to this girl. I will write you a check at his rooms and you can go and cash it; then I will go to some country place. You will come with me, will you not? You are the only friend I have.”
“To the ends of the earth,” answered Gaillard. “This brandy has saved my reason if not my life; I will finish what is in the little decanter if you will not.”
He finished the brandy, and then, rising, took Toto’s arm.
It was half-past eleven now, and the day promised to be very warm—a perfect summer’s day with scarcely a breeze or cloud. The narrow street was black in the shadow, gold in the sunshine, and a barrel-organ was playing “Santa Lucia.”
“Yes, I am better now; the world is not so distinctly horrible as it was a moment ago. But, Toto, if you are intent on going to Struve’s rooms, how are we to get there? We are sure to meet people we know.”