"My head also!" cried Bouchereau, positively green with terror.
"You are mad," said the Doctor, shrugging his shoulders; "I would willingly change my chest for yours."
"You deceive me. I cannot forget what escaped you yesterday. I coughed all night long, and I have a pain between my shoulders which I never perceived before."
"All fancy!"
"I feel what I feel," continued Bouchereau gloomily; "I do not fear death; but I confess that I could not, without regret, bid an eternal adieu, in the prime of life, to my wife and family. It is my duty to be cautious for their sake, if not for my own. Instead of writing to Virginia to return home, I will join her at Fontainbleau, and start at once for Nice."
"Go," said the doctor, "the journey cannot hurt you."
"But do you think it will benefit me?"
"Without a doubt."
"It is not too late, then, to combat this frightful malady."
"Oh, you are not very far gone," said Magnian ironically. "I shall be at Nice myself in less than six weeks, so that you are sure to be attended by a physician in whom you have confidence, if, contrary to all probability, your state of health requires it."