"You have precisely that which I am lacking. . . . Do you know I tried the recipe which you recommended, but got no results . . . nothing will help me any more. I feel certain that I shall not outlive this winter for if my stomach does not pain me it is my back, if it isn't my back then it's my heart, or else this dreadful pain passes into my neck and racks my spine as with an iron rod."
"Imagination! Drink a cognac to me. . . . Don't think of your illness and you'll be well."
"You laugh, but I tell you truly that I can no longer sleep for whole nights at a time . . . ."
"Imagination, I tell you! Drink a cognac to me!"
"It is easy for those who have never suffered to ridicule."
"I have suffered, my God, I have suffered. | . . Drink a cognac to me! I once ate in the restaurant 'Under the Star' such a cutlet that I lay in bed a whole week after it and writhed like an eel with pain."
They retired to the further end of the buffet near the window and continued their conversation. The one complained and lamented, the other ceaselessly laughed, saying every minute, "Drink a cognac to me!"
"Maurice," called Majkowska in a whisper, lifting the portieres.
Topolski bent over toward her and she murmured into his ear: "I love you! . . . do you know? . . ." and she passed on, conversing with Janina.
Throughout the salon formed small groups of people conversing.