“It is generally so, but not always. Some time ago, there were about twenty-seven patients here; and, of that number, no less than eighteen were women; but, lately, matters have changed very much, as you see.” “Yes—have changed very much, as you see,” here interrupted the gentleman who had broken the shins of Ma’m’selle Laplace. “Yes—have changed very much, as you see!” chimed in the whole company at once. “Hold your tongues, every one of you!” said my host, in a great rage. Whereupon the whole company maintained a dead silence for nearly a minute. As for one lady, she obeyed Monsieur Maillard to the letter, and thrusting out her tongue, which was an excessively long one, held it very resignedly, with both hands, until the end of the entertainment. “And this gentlewoman,” said I, to Monsieur Maillard, bending over and addressing him in a whisper—“this good lady who has just spoken, and who gives us the cock-a-doodle-de-doo—she, I presume, is harmless—quite harmless, eh?” “Harmless!” ejaculated he, in unfeigned surprise, “why—why, what can you mean?” “Only slightly touched?” said I, touching my head. “I take it for granted that she is not particularly not dangerously affected, eh?” “_Mon dieu!_ what is it you imagine? This lady, my particular old friend Madame Joyeuse, is as absolutely sane as myself. She has her little eccentricities, to be sure—but then, you know, all old women—all _very_ old women—are more or less eccentric!” “To be sure,” said I,—“to be sure—and then the rest of these ladies and gentlemen—” “Are my friends and keepers,” interupted Monsieur Maillard, drawing himself up with _hauteur_,—“my very good friends and assistants.” “What! all of them?” I asked,—“the women and all?” “Assuredly,” he said,—“we could not do at all without the women; they are the best lunatic nurses in the world; they have a way of their own, you know; their bright eyes have a marvellous effect—something like the fascination of the snake, you know.” “To be sure,” said I,—“to be sure! They behave a little odd, eh?—they are a little queer, eh?—don’t you think so?” “Odd!—queer!—why, do you really think so? We are not very prudish, to be sure, here in the South—do pretty much as we please—enjoy life, and all that sort of thing, you know—” “To be sure,” said I,—“to be sure.” “And then, perhaps, this Clos de Vougeot is a little heady, you know—a little strong—you understand, eh?” “To be sure,” said I,—“to be sure. By the bye, Monsieur, did I understand you to say that the system you have adopted, in place of the celebrated soothing system, was one of very rigorous severity?”