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"I knew someone who received that sacrament seven times."

The second princess had just come from the sickroom with her eyes

red from weeping and sat down beside Dr. Lorrain, who was sitting

in a graceful pose under a portrait of Catherine, leaning his

elbow on a table.

"Beautiful," said the doctor in answer to a remark about the

weather. "The weather is beautiful, Princess; and besides, in

Moscow one feels as if one were in the country."

"Yes, indeed," replied the princess with a sigh. "So he may have

something to drink?"

Lorrain considered.

"Has he taken his medicine?"

"Yes."

The doctor glanced at his watch.

"Take a glass of boiled water and put a pinch of cream of

tartar," and he indicated with his delicate fingers what he meant

by a pinch.

"Dere has neffer been a gase," a German doctor was saying to an

aide-de-camp, "dat one liffs after de sird stroke."

"And what a well-preserved man he was!" remarked the

aide-de-camp. "And who will inherit his wealth?" he added in a

whisper.