woman got tired of useless journeys from the dwelling-house kitchen to the school-dormitory, and only came once a day at noon, to make my bed. Believe, however, that she is a good natured creature, and would have been delighted to cook me cotelettes de mouton, if I could have eaten them."
"What did Madam Beck mean by leaving you alone?"
"Madam Beck could not foresee that I should fall ill."
"Your nervous system bore a good share of the suffering?"
"I am not quite sure what my nervous system is, but I was dreadfully low-spirited."
"Which disables me from helping you by pill or potion. Medicine can give nobody good spirits. My art halts at threshold of Hypochondria: she just looks in and sees a chamber of torture, but can neither say nor do much. Cheerful society would be of use; you should be as little alone as possible; you should take plenty of exercise."
Acquiescence and a pause followed these remarks. They sounded all right, I thought, and bore the safe sanction of custom, and the well worn stamp of use.
