CHAPTER XXIII. DR. DUPRÉ’S ELIXIR.
George Haldane returned home in the best of spirits. His paper had been received with enthusiasm by the savants of France, and his life in Paris had been one pleasant succession of visits, learned conversaziones, and private entertainments. Thanks to his happy pre-occupation, he scarcely noticed that his wife’s manner was constrained, nervous, yet deeply solicitous; that she looked pale and worn, as if with constant watching; and that, in answer to his careless questioning as to affairs at home, she made only fragmentary replies.
On entering his dressing-room to change his apparel, he found Baptisto, who was quietly undoing his portmanteau and selecting the necessary things with a calm air, as if his services had never been interrupted.
“So, my Baptisto,” he said, clapping that worthy on the shoulder, “you are not dead or buried, I see? Ah, you may smile, but I am quite aware of the trick you played me. Well, you have been the loser. You would have had a pleasant time of it in Paris, the best of entertainment, and nothing whatever to do.”
“I am glad you have returned, senor,” replied Baptisto, with his customary solemnity.
“I hope you have given satisfaction to your mistress during my absence?”
“I hope so, senor.”
“Humph! we shall see what report she has to make concerning you, and if that is favourable, I may forgive your freak of laziness.”
“I have not been lazy, senor,” said Baptisto, quietly preparing the toilette.
“Indeed! Pray, how have you been employing yourself?”