“What is the matter, doctor?” asked the comte, after a silence.

“The matter is, you are ill, monsieur, and have had no advice.”

“I! ill!” said Athos, smiling.

“Fever, consumption, weakness, decay, monsieur le comte!”

“Weakness!” replied Athos; “is it possible? I do not get up.”

“Come, come! monsieur le comte, no subterfuges; you are a good Christian?”

“I hope so,” said Athos.

“Is it your wish to kill yourself?”

“Never, doctor.”

“Well! monsieur, you are in a fair way of doing so. Thus to remain is suicide. Get well! monsieur le comte, get well!”