"Surely," I said, "it is not by Toddy--I mean Dr. Todhunter

MacWhister's advice that you keep these hours. The clocks are striking

two!"

"Ah, my friend," he replied wearily, in his precise and rather

elaborate English, "ill or well, I must live as I have been accustomed

to live. For twenty years I have gone to bed promptly at three o'clock

and risen at eleven o'clock. Must I change because of a broken thigh?

In an hour's time, and not before, my people will carry this couch and

its burden to my bedroom. Then I shall pretend to sleep; but I shall

not sleep. Somehow of late the habit of sleep has left me. Hitherto, I

have scorned opiates, which are the refuge of the weak-minded, yet I

fear I may be compelled to ask you for one. There was a time when I

could will myself to sleep. But not now, not now!"

"I am not your medical adviser," I said, mindful of professional

etiquette, "and I could not think of administering an opiate without

the express permission of Dr. MacWhister."

"Pardon me," he said, his eyes resting on me with a quiet satisfaction

that touched me to the heart, "but you are my medical adviser, if you

will honor me so far. I have not forgotten your neat hand and skilful

treatment of me at the time of my accident. To-day the little

Scotchman told me that my thigh was progressing quite admirably, and

that all I needed was nursing. I suggested to him that you should

finish the case. He had, in fact, praised your skill. And so, Mr.

Foster, will you be my doctor? I want you to examine me thoroughly,

for, unless I deceive myself, I am suffering from some mysterious

complaint."

I was enormously, ineffably flattered and delighted, and all the boy

in me wanted to caper around the room and then to fall on Alresca's

neck and dissolve in gratitude to him. But instead of these feats, I

put on a vast seriousness (which must really have been very funny to

behold), and then I thanked Alresca in formal phrases, and then, quite

in the correct professional style, I began to make gentle fun of his

idea of a mysterious complaint, and I asked him for a catalogue of his

symptoms. I perceived that he and Rosa must have previously arranged

that I should be requested to become his doctor.

"There are no symptoms," he replied, "except a gradual loss of

vitality. But examine me."

I did so most carefully, testing the main organs, and subjecting him

to a severe cross-examination.

"Well?" he said, as, after I had finished, I sat down to cogitate.

"Well, Monsieur Alresca, all I can say is that your fancy is too

lively. That is what you suffer from, an excitable fan--"




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