"My dear friend," he at length said aloud, on perceiving that the old gentleman had fairly exhausted himself and was lying panting on his back, "you are indeed a lamentable instance of the lengths to which the greedy lust of lucre will carry our poor human nature. It is really distressing to see Marguerite, a faithful, attached servant, suddenly converted into a tormenting harpy by the prospect of a legacy! Lawyers and priests flock around you like birds of prey, drawn hither by the scent of gold! Oh, the miseries of having delicate health combined with a sound constitution and large property!"
"Ramin," groaned the old man, looking inquiringly into his visitor's face, "you are again going to talk to me about that annuity—I know you are!"
"My excellent friend, it is merely to deliver you from a painful position."
"I am sure, Ramin, you think in your soul I am dying," whimpered Monsieur Bonelle.
"Absurd, my dear sir. Dying? I will prove to you that you have never been in better health. In the first place you feel no pain."
"Excepting from rheumatism," groaned Monsieur Bonelle.
"Rheumatism! who ever died of rheumatism? and if that be all—"
"No, it is not all," interrupted the old man with great irritability; "what would you say to the gout getting higher and higher up every day?"
"The gout is rather disagreeable, but if there is nothing else—"
"Yes, there is something else," sharply said Monsieur Bonelle. "There is an asthma that will scarcely let me breathe, and a racking pain in my head that does not allow me a moment's ease. But if you think I am dying, Ramin, you are quite mistaken."