The Mysteries of Paris. Эжен Сю

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СКАЧАТЬ were marked by the most profound pity for the patient: hardly venturing to breathe lest the heaving of his huge chest should disturb the invalid, he awaited with the most intense anxiety the result of the doctor's observations on the sick man's state; then, as though to while away the fearful apprehension of an unfavourable opinion, he continued to deliver his thoughts aloud, after the following manner:

      "Who would think, now, to see him lying there so helpless, he could ever have been the man to give me such a precious drubbing as I got from him? I dare say, though, he will soon be up again, well and strong as ever. Don't you think so, M. le Docteur? Faith, I only wish he could drum himself well upon my back; I'd lend it him as long as he liked. But, perhaps, that would shake him too much, and overfatigue him; would it, sir?" addressing the negro, whose only reply was an impatient wave of the hand.

      The Chourineur was instantly silent.

      "The draught!" said the doctor.

      The Chourineur, who had respectfully left his nailed shoes at the door, at these words arose, and walked towards the table indicated by the negro's finger; going on the very top of his toes, drawing up his legs, extending his arms, and swelling out his back and shoulders, in a manner so ludicrous as, under other circumstances, would have been highly diverting. The poor fellow seemed endeavouring to collect his whole weight, so that no portion of it should touch the floor; which, in spite of his energetic efforts to prevent it, groaned beneath his ponderous limbs as they moved towards the desired spot. Unfortunately, between his overanxiety to acquit himself well in his important mission, and his fear of dropping the delicate phial he was bringing so overcarefully, he grasped the slight neck so tightly in his huge hand that it shivered to atoms, and the precious liquid was expended on the carpet.

      At the sight of this unfortunate mischance the Chourineur remained in mute astonishment, one of his huge legs in the air, his toes nervously contracted, and looking with a stupefied air alternately from the doctor to the fragments of the bottle, and from that to the morsel his thumb and finger were yet tightly holding.

      "Awkward devil!" exclaimed the negro, impatiently.

      "Yes, that I am!" responded the Chourineur, as though grateful for the sound of a voice to break the frightful bewilderment of his ideas.

      "Ah!" cried the Æsculapius, observing the table attentively, "happily you took the wrong phial—I wanted the other one."

      "What, that little one with the red stuff?" inquired the unlucky sick-nurse, in a low and humble tone.

      "Of course I mean that; why, there is no other left."

      The Chourineur, turning quickly around upon his heels, after his old military fashion, crushed the fragments of glass which lay on the carpet beneath his feet. More delicate ones might have suffered severely from the circumstance, but the ex-débardeur had a pair of natural sandals, hard as the hoofs of a horse.

      "Have a care!" cried the physician. "You will hurt yourself!"

      To this caution the Chourineur paid no attention, but seemed wholly absorbed in so discharging his new mission as should effectually destroy all recollection of his late clumsiness. It was really beautiful to behold the scrupulous delicacy and lightness of touch with which, spreading out his two first fingers, he seized the fragile crystal; avoiding all use of the unlucky thumb whose undue pressure, he rightly conceived, had brought about his previous accident, he kept so widely stretched from his forefinger that a butterfly might have passed between, with outspread wings, without losing one atom of its golden plumage. The black doctor trembled lest all this caution should lead to a second misadventure, but, happily, the phial reached its destination in safety. As the Chourineur approached the bed, he again smashed beneath his tread some of the fallen relics of the former potion.

      "The deuce take you, man! Do you want to maim yourself for life?"

      "Lame myself?" asked the eager nurse.

      "Why, yes; you keep walking upon glass as though you were trying for it."

      "Oh, bless you! never mind that; the soles of my feet are hard as iron; must be something sharper than glass could hurt them."

      "A teaspoon—" said the doctor.

      The Chourineur recommenced his évolutions sylphidiques, and returned with the article required.

      After having swallowed a few spoonfuls of the mixture, Rodolph began to stir in his bed, and faintly moved his hands.

      "Good! good! he is recovering from his stupor," said the doctor, speaking to himself. "That bleeding has relieved him; he is now out of danger."

      "Saved? Bravo! Vive la Charte!" exclaimed the Chourineur, in the full burst of his joy.

      "Hold your tongue! and pray be quiet!" said the negro, in a tone of command.

      "To be sure I will, M. le Médécin."

      "His pulse is becoming regular—very well, indeed—excellent—"

      "And that poor friend of M. Rodolph's—body and bones of me!—when he comes to know that—But, then, luckily—"

      "Silence! I say."

      "Certainly, M. le Docteur."

      "And sit down."

      "But, M. le—"

      "Sit down, I tell you! You disturb me, twisting and fidgeting about in that manner—you distract my attention. Come, sit down at once, and keep still."

      "But, doctor, don't you perceive I am as dirty as a pile of floating wood just going to be unloaded?—all slime and wet, you see. I should spoil the furniture."

      "Then sit down on the ground."

      "I should soil the carpet."

      "Do what you like, but, for heaven's sake, be quiet!" said the doctor, in a tone of impatience; then, throwing himself into an armchair, he leaned his head upon his clasped hands, and appeared lost in deep reflection.

      After a moment of profound meditation, the Chourineur, less from any need he felt for repose than in obedience to the doctor's commands, took a chair with the utmost precaution, turned it upside down with an air of intense self-satisfaction at having at length devised a plan to act in strict conformity with the orders received, and yet avoid all risk of soiling the silken cushion; having laid the back on the ground, he proceeded, after all manner of delicate arrangements, to take his seat on the outer rails; but, unhappily, the Chourineur was entirely ignorant of the laws of the lever and the equilibrium of bodies, the chair overbalanced, and the luckless individual seated thereon, in endeavouring to save himself from falling, by an involuntary movement caught hold of a small stand, on which was a tray containing some tea-things.

      At the formidable noise caused by so many falling articles clattering upon the head of the unfortunate cause of all this discord and havoc, the doctor sprung from his seat, while Rodolph, awaking with a start, raised himself on his elbow, looked about him with an anxious and perturbed glance, then, passing his hand over his brows, as though trying to arrange his ideas, he inquired:

      "Where is Murphy?"

      "Your royal highness need be under no apprehensions on his account," answered the negro, respectfully; "there is every hope of his recovery."

      "Recovery! СКАЧАТЬ