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Updated: June 17, 2025
Almost every day Maurice received a letter or telegram giving him news of his cousin. The advice of Doctor Potain seemed to be justifying itself. Every day Esperance began to recover her health and spirits. She was rehearsing at the Comedie, and her debut in On ne badine pas avec l'amour was announced for the next month. The travellers had intended to spend another ten days in Italy.
It was a quaint haunt, where gathered Doctor Peters and Father Dube, and Parker Prout, the old artist who had failed in life because of too much talent, and M. Martin, and the venerable Potain, who had lost his mind after his wife's death, and Ovide Marie, the curly-haired musician from Amity Street.
The little lighthouse, high on the plateau above the farm, sent out its long lunar arms regularly to sweep the country and search the sea. Esperance kept her word to Doctor Potain, and spent fifteen days stretched out in a cosy lounge chair.
"You know very well, papa dear, that I am very grateful to Doctor Potain, and I should not have gone away if he had been alone." M. and Mme. Darbois looked at each other and at Esperance. "Yes, my dear little mother, the Duke makes himself too agreeable for your big daughter." "But," said the philosopher, "I have never noticed it."
Doctor Potain, who was looking at his watch, now chimed in with, "My dear Duke, we must be thinking of leaving; the boat will not wait for us." Charles de Morlay thanked his farm hosts, and after bowing elegantly over Mme. Darbois's hand, looked for Esperance. "Jean," said Professor Darbois, "look and see if you can find Esperance, and tell her to come and say good-bye to our dear Doctor."
Potain has promised to take me to Saint-Anne to study faces of the mad women there, and then I am full of the idea of painting an old man, an Arab, sitting down singing to the accompaniment of a kind of guitar; and I am thinking also of a large affair for the coming Salon a view of the Carnival; but for this it would be necessary that I should go to Nice to Naples first for the Carnival, and then to Nice, where I have my villa, to paint it in open air."
He was staying at the Chateau of Castel-Montjoie with Doctor Potain, and when he heard that the Doctor was leaving for Belle-Isle, he could not resist the opportunity to come and ask pardon.
"Yes, perhaps so," she went on, shaking her head as if to rid it of some vague thoughts that were disturbing her brain, "perhaps so. But let us be quick, for one of the gentlemen was Doctor Potain." "Were there two men," asked Jean. "Yes, two." And she started off again at a great pace. Jean was dolefully perplexed. When they arrived at the farm they were quite breathless from their long ride.
Verdurin had taken under her patronage that year, and of whom she said "Really, it oughtn't to be allowed, to play Wagner as well as that!" left both Plante and Rubinstein 'sitting'; while Dr. Cottard was a more brilliant diagnostician than Potain.
"If a sick person prefers to die at the hands of one of the Princes of Science... It is far more smart to be able to say, 'Yes, I have Potain." "Oh, indeed! More smart, is it?" said Mme. Verdurin. "So there are fashions, nowadays, in illness, are there? I didn't know that.... Oh, you do make me laugh!" she screamed, suddenly, burying her face in her hands.
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