"How did it come on?"
"Ah! it was brought on by something that happened—a terrible adventure; the shock of it was the cause of my illness."
"You must see a doctor, first of all."
"I will go for one, and an apothecary too," said Ménard, who was anxious for an excuse to go out into the open air.
"No, no, my dear Monsieur Ménard," Dubourg interposed, in a faint voice; "I don't like doctors; we have plenty of time. Hippocrates himself said: Vita brevis, ars longa, experientia fallax."
"Very true, monsieur le baron; but the same Hippocrates says in another place——"
"Oh! for heaven's sake, drop Hippocrates!" cried Frédéric, fancying that he could read in Dubourg's eyes that he was not so ill as he chose to appear. "As you won't have a doctor, do at least tell us the cause of your illness, this terrible adventure——"
"Yes," said Ménard, taking pains to seat himself as far as possible from the bed, where he could get the air from the hall. "Let us know if it might become contagious."
Dubourg sat up in bed; he raised his eyes heaven-ward, uttered two or three plaintive groans, pulled his nightcap still further over his eyes, and began his tale in a most heartrending tone.
"The excellent Ménard has undoubtedly told you that I received yesterday an invitation to one of the first houses in the city. At all events, that is what our landlady assured me—otherwise——"