"So I am cold--very cold," he said, and his teeth chattered as he
said it; "but the light hurts my eyes."
"It very often does so when one is not well."
"Not well! I'm well enough, man alive. But I think I must have
caught a little cold at the ball last night," rejoined the Marchese,
striving hard to speak in his usual manner.
The lawyer, whose eyes had by this time become accustomed to the
diminished light, looked hard at his old friend from beneath his
great shaggy black eye-brows, with a shrewdly examining glance, and
then slightly shook his head.
"Well, I daresay you'll be all right again in a day or two. But any
way, I am glad you sent for me all the same. These things have to be
done, you know. And a man does not die a bit the sooner for doing
them. For my part, I always advise my friends to have all such
matters settled while they are in health."
"What, in Heaven's name, are you talking about? I don't know what
you mean," said the Marchese, with an angry irritability that was
totally unlike his usual manner. I sent for the lawyer; and you come
and talk to me as if you wanted to play the doctor."
"I assure you, Signor Marchese, I have not the slightest desire to
play any part but my own. And that I am perfectly ready to enter on.
I am ready to take your instructions, and will draw up the
instrument to-morrow or the next day.
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