"Really," said she, "your solemn air and tones almost kill me with laughter." "She laughs too heartily, and at the wrong time.

Mascarin is right," thought the doctor.

"I trust, madame," continued he, "that I too may laugh at my own imaginary fears; but whatever may be the result, permit me to remind you that a little time back you said that a doctor was a father confessor; for, like a priest, the physician only hears secrets in order to forget them.

He is also more fitted to console and advise, for, as his profession brings him into contact with the frailties and passions of the world, he can comprehend and excuse." "And you must not forget, doctor, that like the priest also, he preaches very long sermons." As she uttered this sarcasm, there was a jesting look upon her features, but it elicited no smile from Hortebise, who, as he proceeded, grew more grave.
"I may be foolish," he said; "but I had better be that than reopen some old wound." "Do not be afraid, doctor; speak out." "Then, I will begin by asking if you have any remembrance of a young man in your own sphere of society, who, at the time of your marriage, was well known in every Parisian _salon_.

I speak of the Marquis de Croisenois." The Countess leaned back in her chair, and contracted her brow, and pursed up her lips, as though vainly endeavoring to remember the name.
"The Marquis de Croisenois ?" repeated she.