Transcriber's Note:1. Page scan source: http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924031341906
"Why have you roused me, Konski?"
"You were lying on your left side again, sir," the servant, who heldhis master clasped by the shoulder, replied, as he completed the taskof restoring him to a sitting posture on the sofa; "and you have beendrinking champagne at dinner, more than a bottle, John says, and thatsurely is ..."
Konski broke off abruptly, and turned again to the travelling boxes,one of which was already unlocked; he commenced to arrange its contentsin the chest of drawers, and went on, apparently talking to himselfrather than to his master--
"I am merely doing what the doctor has insisted upon. Only last night,in Berlin, as I was showing him to the door, he said: 'Konski, whenyour master is lying on his left side and begins then to moan, rousehim, rouse him at once, be it day or night. I take the responsibility.And, Konski, no champagne; not for the next six weeks, anyhow, and bestnot at all. And when you have once got into Italy, then plenty of waterto be mixed with the wine, Konski, and ...'"
"And now oblige me by holding your tongue."
Bertram had remained sitting on the sofa, his hand pressed to his brow;he now rose rapidly and strode impatiently about the room, castingevery now and then an angry glance at his valet. Then he stepped to oneof the windows. The sun must be setting now. The high wooded hillsyonder still shone forth in sunny splendour, but the terrace gardenssloping towards the valley, and the valley itself, with the villagewithin, lay already in deepest shadow. The picturesque view, thegraceful charm of which he was wont to appreciate so heartily, had nocharm to-day for his dulled brain. Konski was quite right; thechampagne which he had to-day taken for the first time since hisillness, in direct defiance of the doctors injunctions, had not agreedwith him. Well, he had taken champagne because his throat had gotunbearably dry from much talking, and he had talked so much because thefrequent pauses in the dinner conversation were making him nervous. Thewhole thing had been a positive bore; the genial host, the fair hostesshad surely fallen off, changed sadly for the worse during the lastthree years. Or ... could he possibly have changed himself? Did hereally begin to grow old? If you get seriously ill at fifty, you areapt to go downhill with startling rapidity!
This had been the second emphatic memento mori--after an interval oftwenty years! The first--the first had been her work. Aye, and she hadkissed him a thousand times, and had vowed deathless fidelity yonder onthe mountain-slope, where the giant oak still lifted