"Perfectly argued, Madame Philocome. Pray take the trouble to be seated."
Madame Philocome took a chair, after some show of reluctance.
"Are you sick?" she said, twisting her mouth out of shape.
"Mon Dieu! yes, dear Madame Philocome, I am sick. But may I know to what I am indebted for the honor of this visit?"
"Why, I happen to have in my hands a little broche of yours."
"A broche?"
"A little note, if you like that better; a hundred and fifty francs. It's a small matter. You made it to your tailor's order; he paid it to me, and I came to collect it. If, at the same time, you could give me what you owe me for perfumery and essences, you know——"
"Yes, I know that I owe you a trifle. Parbleu! if you have your bill here, we'll settle the whole thing together; I ask nothing better."
"It will be an accommodation to me, especially as you don't come to see us any more, doctor; you've taken your custom away from us; that's all wrong."
"Not at all; but when I moved into another quarter——"