Александр Дюма

The Gold Thieves


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honor is mine, Doctor.

      DOCTOR

      Look—what do you want with me?

      PARISIAN

      By God, you know quite well what I want with you.

      DOCTOR

      No—Devil take me!

      PARISIAN

      Oh—indeed yes! I am coming to ask a service of you—no one ever comes to you for anything else.

      DOCTOR

      Ah! Ah! It seems to me that I know you.

      PARISIAN

      I should think so, I am a patient.

      DOCTOR

      I treated you?

      PARISIAN

      And gallantly! Meaning that if I am sure of my legs, and if I have the honor of telling you, your very humble servant, Doctor Ivans—I owe it to you.

      DOCTOR

      Can’t you be more precise?

      PARISIAN

      Don’t you recall a drowning case, a man already green like a meadow that you, as they say—into whose lungs you breathed air, and into his esophagus you poured a little cup of Brandy.

      DOCTOR

      I remember. You’d thrown yourself into the sea to save a poor devil who was drowning.

      PARISIAN

      Go on!

      DOCTOR

      And you almost drowned with him.

      PARISIAN

      What do you want? One has heart or done doesn’t. And indeed, it’s a shame to a man with heart to see another drinking a cup without throwing himself in the water to drink with him.

      DOCTOR

      (laughing, getting up)

      And you were drinking so well that without me, you would have swallowed all the water in the port of Portsmouth.

      PARISIAN

      Luckily you arrived; as you said: Enough like this: Let’s stop the trouble and here I am.

      DOCTOR

      It’s an old story. What do you want from me?

      PARISIAN

      Oh, don’t worry. It’s not to pay you for your prescription. What I want, since that day—I don’t know if it’s because I was too soaked, but my pockets are dry—you see, which is a pity—what I want—damn—it’s hard to say.

      DOCTOR

      (putting his hand in his pocket)

      Look—say it all the same.

      PARISIAN

      They say you are embarking for Australia.

      DOCTOR

      It’s true.

      PARISIAN

      On the Marco Polo.

      DOCTOR

      That’s true, too.

      PARISIAN

      As ship’s doctor.

      DOCTOR

      As ship’s doctor.

      PARISIAN

      Well—I said this to myself—Parisian, my lad—you want to see the world, but cannot pay the transportation expenses—you have to go find Doctor Ivans—he has a good heart, a man like no other—indeed! He will get you free passage. And you—during the voyage will serve him—gratis, of course. Damn—if the thing is agreeable to you, Doctor, you will be doing me a proud service.

      DOCTOR

      That would make you really happy?

      PARISIAN

      More than your refusal would cause me sorrow.

      DOCTOR

      Well, my friend, that works with me.

      PARISIAN

      Really true?

      (Melida enters and concerns herself with the tea.)

      PARISIAN

      Ah! Doctor—if I were a crazy woman, I would kiss you—

      (offering his hand)

      Ah—Doctor—

      (withdrawing his hand)

      Pardon—pardon!

      DOCTOR

      Well—what?

      (offering his hand)

      PARISIAN

      (hiding his hand behind his back)

      Never! Never! Never!

      DOCTOR

      It’s to see if you have fever.

      PARISIAN

      In that case it’s another matter. Oh, yes—I have a fever—of joy—of—well—what are you putting in my hand, Doctor?

      DOCTOR

      Me? Nothing.

      PARISIAN

      A half crown. No—thanks—no—no!

      DOCTOR

      My friend, it’s to drink my health—and of this child and her sister.

      PARISIAN

      Really—it’s for that?

      DOCTOR

      Oh, my God, yes—! Not for anything else.

      PARISIAN

      If it’s for that, it’s sacred—and it will be done—conscientiously. By the way—when do we leave?

      DOCTOR

      Hush! Be here at eight o’clock in the evening—with your baggage—you will pass for one of the household.

      PARISIAN

      What? It’s for tonight.

      DOCTOR

      Hush! I tell you.

      PARISIAN

      Ah—I understand. They don’t know this yet in the family. Mum’s the word, Doctor, till tonight.

      DOCTOR

      Till tonight, my lad.

      (Exit the Parisian.)

      MELIDA

      There you are, Father, we’ve hardly seen you since morning.

      DOCTOR

      (looking at her)

      Yes, and poor child, you’ve profited by my absence—to weep.

      MELIDA

      It’s not my fault, Father. I am doing what I can! You see my mouth is smiling.

      DOCTOR

      (pulling out his handkerchief and drying her eyes)

      Yes—and your eyes are weeping.

      MELIDA

      Oh—it’s not for only for me! To follow you, to serve you, to love you everywhere, somewhere—that would be too much joy—! But Williams, Williams, father—

      (Williams enters.)

      DOCTOR

      Williams is a man, my child.

      MELIDA

      Oh—he’ll die