Caroline, out of consideration for Adolphe, makes a feeble effort to smile.
“Tut, tut! But your eyes are clear: they don’t seem to need our infernal drugs.”
“Look again, doctor, I am eaten up with fever, a slow, imperceptible fever—”
And she fastens her most roguish glance upon the illustrious doctor, who says to himself, “What eyes!”
“Now, let me see your tongue.”
Caroline puts out her taper tongue between two rows of teeth as white as those of a dog.
“It is a little bit furred at the root: but you have breakfasted—” observes the great physician, turning toward Adolphe.
“Oh, a mere nothing,” returns Caroline; “two cups of tea—”
Adolphe and the illustrious leech look at each other, for the doctor wonders whether it is the husband or the wife that is trifling with him.
“What do you feel?” gravely inquires the physician.