. Cent-e-dize! Why, you old publican, this wine
is poisoned--I know your tricks!--_Sanctam ecclesiam Catholicam_--Well,
well, we shall see. Imbecile! to have a tierce-major and a seven of
hearts, and discard the seven! By St. Anthony, capot! You are
lurched--ha! ha! I told you so. I knew very well--there--there--don't
interrupt me--_Carnis resurrectionem et vitam eternam_!"

With these words upon his lips the poor wine-dealer expired. Meanwhile
the notary sat cowering over the fire, aghast at the fearful scene that
was passing before him, and now and then striving to keep up his
courage by a glass of cognac. Already his fears were on the alert, and
the idea of contagion flitted to and fro through his mind. In order to
quiet these thoughts of evil import, he lighted his pipe, and began to
prepare for returning home. At that moment the apothecary turned round
to him and said:

"Dreadful sickly time, this! The disorder seems to be spreading."

"What disorder?" exclaimed the notary, with a movement of surprise.

"Two died yesterday, and three to-day," continued the apothecary,
without answering the question. "Very sickly time, sir--very."

"But what disorder is it? What disease has carried off my friend here
so suddenly?"

"What disease? Why, scarlet fever, to be sure."

"And is it contagious?"

"Certainly."

"Then I am a dead man!" exclaimed the notary, putting his pipe into his
waistcoat-pocket, and beginning to walk up and down the room in
despair. "I am a dead man! Now don't deceive me--don't, will you?
What--what are the symptoms?"

"A sharp burning pain in the right side," said the apothecary.

"Oh, what a fool I was to come here!"

In vain did the housekeeper and the apothecary strive to pacify him--he
was not a man to be reasoned with; he answered that he knew his own
constitution better than they did, and insisted upon going home without
delay. Unfortunately, the vehicle he came in had returned to the city,
and the whole neighborhood was abed and asleep. What was to be done?
Nothing in the world but to take the apothecary's horse, which stood
hitched at the door, patiently waiting his master's will.

Well, gentlemen, as there was no remedy, our notary mounted this
raw-boned steed, and set forth upon his homeward journey. The night
was cold and gusty, and the wind right in his teeth. Overhead the
leaden clouds were beating to and fro, and through them the newly-risen
moon seemed