"One is an Auvergnat, very badly dressed, with a bandage over his eye, who has already been here once or twice."
Doctor Matheus seemed annoyed, and turned away lest the Duke should observe it.
"The other is a peasant from the environs, who has a handkerchief over his face as if he enjoyed a fluxion."
"I will go," said the Duke, "for your visitors are impatient, and sorrow should not wait. I will give place to Milord."
"Mademoiselle," said the Doctor, "show in the poor wretches."
"Very well," said the Duke, "the poor before the rich, I expected that." Bowing kindly to the Doctor, the old nobleman left.
As he passed through the reception room, he saw the Doctor's visitors, each of whom looked towards him. The Milord rushed towards a window, which luckily was closed. The other two were introduced to the Doctor's room. No sooner were they there, than the one threw off his handkerchief, and the Auvergnat his bandage. The Doctor gave them his hand and exclaimed, "Monte-Leone! Taddeo."
"And here, too, am I," said the Milord, entering the room and throwing aside his red wig and burning whiskers.
"D'Harcourt, too"—said the Doctor, hurrying to meet the new comer—and then closing the curtains, "Here we all are," said he.
"Yes, dear Von Apsbury," said the Count, embracing him. "The Pulcinelli of the Etruscan villa are again united."