But it is my aunt, an old maid; and, also, my mother is crazy about the idea. If I were to back out now, she would die of chagrin. My aunt would disinherit me, and she is the one who has the family fortune. Then, too, there is my father-in-law, a regular dragoon for his principles--severe, violent. He never makes a joke of serious things, and I tell you it would cost me dear, terribly dear. And, besides, I have given my word.""You must take back your word."
"You still insist?" exclaimed George, in despair. "But then, suppose that it were possible, how could I take back my signature which I put at the bottom of the deed? I have pledged myself to pay in two months for the attorney's practice I have purchased!""Sir," said the doctor, "all these things--"
"You are going to tell me that I was lacking in prudence, that Ishould never have disposed of my wife's dowry until after the honeymoon!""Sir," said the doctor, again, "all these considerations are foreign to me. I am a physician, and nothing but a physician, and I can only tell you this: If you marry before three or four years, you will be a criminal."George broke out with a wild exclamation. "No sir, you are not merely a physician! You are also a confessor! You are not merely a scientist; and it is not enough for you that you observe me as you would some lifeless thing in your laboratory, and say, 'You have this; science says that; now go along with you.' All my existence depends upon you. It is your duty to listen to me, because when you know everything you will understand me, and you will find some way to cure me within a month.""But," protested the doctor, "I wear myself out telling you that such means do not exist. I shall not be certain of your cure, as much as any one can be certain, in less than three or four years."George was almost beside himself. "I tell you you must find some means! Listen to me, sir--if I don't get married I don't get the dowry! And will you tell me how I can pay the notes I have signed?""Oh," said the doctor, dryly, "if that is the question, it is very simple--I will give you a plan to get out of the affair.
You will go and get acquainted with some rich man; you will do everything you can to gain his confidence; and when you have succeeded, you will plunder him."George shook his head. "I am not in any mood for joking.""I am not joking," replied his adviser. "Rob that man, assassinate him even--that would be no worse crime than you would commit in taking a young girl in good health in order to get a portion of her dowry, when at the same time you would have to expose her to the frightful consequences of the disease which you would give her.""Frightful consequences?" echoed George.
"Consequences of which death would not be the most frightful.""But, sir, you were saying to me just now--"
"Just now I did not tell you everything. Even reduced, suppressed a little by our remedies, the disease remains mysterious, menacing, and it its sum, sufficiently grave. So it would be an infamy to expose your fiancee in order to avoid an inconvenience, however great that might be."But George was still not to be convinced. Was it certain that this misfortune would befall Henriette, even with the best attention?
Said the other: "I do not wish to lie to you. No, it is not absolutely certain, it is probable. And there is another truth which I wish to tell you now: our remedies are not infallible.
In a certain number of cases--a very small number, scarcely five per cent--they have remained without effect. You might be one of those exceptions, your wife might be one. What then?""I will employ a word you used just now, yourself. We should have to expect the worst catastrophes."George sat in a state of complete despair.
"Tell me what to do, then," he said.
"I can tell you only one thing: don't marry. You have a most serious blemish. It is as if you owed a debt. Perhaps no one will ever come to claim it; on the other hand, perhaps a pitiless creditor will come all at once, presenting a brutal demand for immediate payment. Come now--you are a business man. Marriage is a contract; to marry without saying anything--that means to enter into a bargain by means of passive dissimulation. That's the term, is it not? It is dishonesty, and it ought to come under the law."George, being a lawyer, could appreciate the argument, and could think of nothing to say to it.
"What shall I do?" he asked.
The other answered, "Go to your father-in-law and tell him frankly the truth.""But," cried the young man, wildly, "there will be no question then of three or four years' delay. He will refuse his consent altogether.""If that is the case," said the doctor, "don't tell him anything.""But I have to give him a reason, or I don't know what he will do. He is the sort of man to give himself to the worst violence, and again my fiancee would be lost to me. Listen, doctor. From everything I have said to you, you may perhaps think I am a mercenary man. It is true that I want to get along in the world, that is only natural. But Henriette has such qualities; she is so much better than I, that I love her, really, as people love in novels. My greatest grief--it is not to give up the practice Ihave bought--although, indeed, it would be a bitter blow to me;my greatest grief would be to lose Henriette. If you could only see her, if you only knew her--then you would understand. I have her picture here--"The young fellow took out his card-case. And offered a photograph to the doctor, who gently refused it. The other blushed with embarrassment.
"I beg your pardon," he said, "I am ridiculous. That happens to me, sometimes. Only, put yourself in my place--I love her so!"His voice broke.
"My dear boy," said the doctor, feelingly, "that is exactly why you ought not to marry her.""But," he cried, "if I back out without saying anything they will guess the truth, and I shall be dishonored.""One is not dishonored because one is ill."
