“I do not leave her, my friend; I have already told thee I am everywhere, at all times, and under many different forms.”
“Well! what do you wish of me?” asked Tito, with a certain aversion on hearing these words.
“I am here to do thee another favor.”
“Well! speak.”
“Dost thou know that thou art lacking in respect to me?” said Death, with forced gravity.
“It is natural,” answered Tito. “Our intimacy, the complicity—”
“What meanest thou by complicity?”
“Nothing. I simply allude to a painting I saw when a child. It represented Medicine. Two persons were lying in one bed, or, to speak more clearly, a man and his illness. The physician entered the room blindfolded, and armed with a club. Upon nearing the bed he commenced beating the patient and his illness unmercifully. I do not remember which was the first victim of the punishment, but I believe it was the invalid.”
“Pleasing allegory! But we must to business!”
“Yes, let us go. All seem astonished to see me standing here, apparently alone, in the middle of the room.”