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"That is emotional cause enough, isn't it, to account for any mysterious depression that any man is ever likely to have?" "You are mistaken," she said softly. "You don't know Alresca. You don't know his strength of mind. I can assure you that it is something more than unreturned love that is destroying him." "Destroying him?" "Yes, destroying him. Alresca is capable of killing a futile passion.
"Nor I," she answered, "but I knew, somehow, that it was there. It is very strange and uncanny, and I shall insist on an explanation from Alresca." She gave a forced laugh. As I fumbled with the handle of the door she took hold of my hand. "Listen!" she said excitedly, "this will be a small room, and over the mantelpiece is a little round picture of a dog."
I had not been pleased with myself in London. As the weeks followed each other, I had been compelled to admit to myself that the case of Alresca held mysteries for me, even medical mysteries.
I decided to do so, and I handed it to her there and then. "Read that," I murmured. She read it in silence, and then looked at me. Her tender eyes were filled with tears. I cast away all my resolutions of prudence, of wariness, before that gaze. Seizing her in my arms, I kissed her again and again. "I have always suspected what what Alresca says," she murmured. "But you love me?"
I urge you either to defy your foe utterly and to the death, or to submit before submission is useless. "Alresca." I sat staring at the paper long after I had finished reading it, thinking about poor Alresca. There was a date to it, and this date showed that it was written a few days before his mysterious disease took a turn for the better. The communication accordingly needs some explanation.
Pressing on these two were a distinguished group consisting of the King, the Herald, Ortrud, Telramund, and several more. And Ortrud was cautiously feeling Alresca's limbs with her jewel-laden fingers. I saw instantly that Alresca was unconscious. "Please put him down, mademoiselle."
"Ah!" he said, "I've seen ye before." "You have, sir." "You are the callant who told me that the medulla oblongata " "Please " I entreated. Perhaps he would not have let me off had not Sir Cyril stood immediately behind him. "What is it?" asked Toddy, approaching Alresca. "Fracture of the femur." "Simple, of course." "Yes, sir, but so far as I can judge, of a somewhat peculiar nature.
For I was made immediately to realize, to an extent to which I had not realized before, how great a man Alresca was, and how large he bulked in the world's eye. The first announcement of his demise appeared in the "Etoile Belgi," the well-known Brussels daily, and from the moment of its appearance letters, telegrams, and callers descended upon Alresca's house in an unending stream.
"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 "
We had lived together Alresca and I peaceably, quietly, sadly. He appeared to have ample means, and the standard of luxury which existed in his flat was a high one. He was a connoisseur in every department of art and life, and took care that he was well served.
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