"No, no, I will have no Germans about me. Besides, there is nothing the matter that will prevent me from going."
The fair-haired coxcomb gave a listless ear to my words, looked at me between his eyelids, and asked with his lips:
"Why did not this person come round for medical advice?"
I replied that "this person" was in a high fever, and could not get up. Fortunately another doctor had come to help the former to examine the people before they were allowed to depart. He was a fat, red-faced, jovial fellow, who showed great haste to oblige me, and repeated over and over again as he accompanied me:
"Ah! le kerre! pien ture, pien ture!"
His diagnosis was alarming. A double congestion of the lungs. He prescribed cold water compresses.
"And—and the departure...."
"Oh, it is quite out of the question! The lady could not stand the journey. It is absolutely impossible."
"Then ... we are not going either...."
"That is no business of mine."