After retiring from business with a very considerable fortune, which had recently been added to by an inheritance, Monsieur Glumeau had purchased a country house at Nogent-sur-Marne; there he had had built in his garden a small theatre, where in the summer his family and friends indulged in the pleasure of theatrical performances, being actors and spectators in turn. Monsieur Glumeau liked to receive company; the presence of guests made him forget his imaginary diseases; as his wife and his children were also fond of pleasure, the ex-commission merchant’s house was one of those where one was always certain to pass one’s time agreeably; ceremony and etiquette were banished from it, and everyone was at liberty to do what he pleased; the company was sometimes a little mixed but it made up in quantity what it lacked in quality. At the moment of which we write, the head of the family was in the act of drinking a cup of tea into which he had squeezed the juice of a lemon, because when he woke that morning he had a bitter taste in his mouth. “I think that this will do me good,” said Monsieur Glumeau, as he drank his tea in little sips; “lemon juice in tea clears up the bile.” “But why will you have it that you’re bilious, my dear? Your complexion is very clear, you are not yellow.” “You say I am not yellow, my dear love; that’s a question! I am a little yellow--on one side of my nose; and I don’t propose to wait until I am as yellow as a pumpkin before I take a purgative.” “Do you mean to say that you propose to purge yourself again? That would be the last straw. You took Sedlitz water a fortnight ago.” “What does that prove, if I need it again?” Madame Glumeau shrugged her shoulders, exclaiming: “You make yourself sick by dosing yourself, Edouard!” “Why no, my dear love, one doesn’t make oneself sick by taking care of oneself; on the contrary, it prevents one from being sick.” “You know that we have company to dinner to-day. I trust that you don’t propose to select this moment to take medicine.” “I am not talking about medicine to-day; but listen: just now I was reading in my paper the announcement of a most valuable discovery.” “Something to prevent potatoes from being sick?” “Oh! I am not talking about potatoes!” “But, my dear, they are so useful, so nourishing, so valuable, so----” “Let me alone with your potatoes; I don’t like them. What I am talking about is an infallible remedy for the gravel.” “But you haven’t that, monsieur!” “No, but I might have it!” “What a misfortune it is to be afraid of all diseases!” “I am not afraid of them, madame, but I simply am on my guard against them; it isn’t from fear, it’s from prudence, from common sense.” “Bless my soul! if all men resembled you, it would be amusing.” “What do you mean by that, Lolotte?” “I mean that by dint of thinking about diseases, you think that you have them all, and it doesn’t tend to make you a lively companion in society.”