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Updated: June 5, 2025
Who's that, then," asked Cuckoo. "Doctor Levillier. Surely you've heard me talk about him." "No, dearie." "Oh, he's a nerve-doctor, and a sort of little saint, lives for his work, and is a deuced religious chap, never does anything, you know." Julian looked at her. "Oh," she said. "And believes in everything.
My trouble was partially physical I had to endure grave physical cruelty at that time but chiefly mental. My agony of mind ran a race with my agony of body, and won easily. It's generally so with women, I believe?" She waited as if for a reply. "Yes, it is often so," Doctor Levillier answered.
His lips moved silently. Julian saw that he was praying, and sprang up fiercely. All the frost of his senses thawed in a moment. He seized Levillier by the shoulders. "Don't pray!" he cried out; "don't pray. Curse! Curse as I do! If he's dead you shall not pray. You shall not! You shall not!" The little doctor drew him down to his knees. "Julian, hush! My science tells me Valentine is dead."
As a rule, they talked about books, painting, or music, of which Dr. Levillier was a devoted lover. Valentine's note asked the doctor to dine with him that night at his club. The messenger brought back an acceptance. They dined at a corner table and the room was rather empty. A few men chatted desultorily of burlesques, horses, the legs of actresses, the chances of politics.
Julian nodded. "That is his soul written in sound," the doctor added. It was at this point that Valentine ceased and got up from the piano. "I must smoke too," he said. "No, not a cigar, I'll have a cigarette to-night." "You are fond of that picture, Cresswell?" said Doctor Levillier as Valentine sat down. "'The Merciful Knight'? Yes, I love it.
If it were the same thing it could not be love. And it seemed to be a thing that they feared to find. "Doctor Levillier is a great friend of mine," Valentine said. "He is a famous nerve-doctor. Seeing you hovering about his door led me to suppose you might be ill, and were going to consult him. I hope you are not ill." "Not I!" "Because he is away from home at present." "Oh!"
There was a sort of definite vagueness, if you can imagine such a seeming contradiction, in my state of mind. But the feeling is really indescribable. That it was more strange and more terrible than anything I have known is certain. I should like to ask Dr. Levillier about all this." "Levillier yes. But he would " "Be reasonable about it, as he is about everything.
The bright surface was not dimmed. No breath of life tarnished it to dulness. Again the doctor felt his heart, drew his eyelids apart, and carefully examined the eyes, then turned slowly round. "Doctor doctor!" Julian whispered. "Why do you turn away? What are you going to do?" Doctor Levillier made a gesture of finale, and knelt on the floor by Valentine. His head was bowed.
Only he lacked power. This scarcely interfered with the pleasure he could give in a drawing-room, and to-night both Levillier and Julian were rather in a mood for supreme delicacy than for great passion. They listened with silent pleasure for a time. Then Levillier said: "Do you remark how wonderfully the timbre of Cresswell's voice expresses the timbre of his mind? The parallel is exact."
Levillier sat lower in his chair, and they smoked in silence, both of them revelling in the warm peace and the ease of this night-hour. Since he had come into the Harley Street house Julian had been much happier. His perturbation had gradually evaporated until now scarcely a vestige of it remained.
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