The Argosy — page 233: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

At Gastein. 217 throughout the day. It would drive him mad, he said : and I believe it would, had he remained. He was obliged to take rooms in Hof-Gastein.” “ Did he recover in the end ?” | “T don’t know. He went away at the appointed time, and I never heard of him again.” “With me it is not so bad as that,” I said. “ But it gives me a feel- ing of unrest : as if I should like to get away from it and could not.” “In short,” returned the doctor, “it is a, perpetual nightmare to you; and no wonder. You want rest and quiet, and that you must have. You must change your hotel. This afternoon I will accompany you to the Hirsch: they may have rooms to suit you, and there the fall is almost inaudible. I have also rooms in my villa; you can see it from here. Accommodation is so scarce in the village that during the season every unoccupied room in every’ house is, and ought to be, given up to visitors,” ot He crossed to the window. and pointed to a pretty house on the mountain side. It was more elevated than any other house in Gastein, in situation charming. a ‘T will show you over it this afternoon,” said the doctor. ‘“ But,” he modestly added, “I donot think you would be sufficiently comfortable there. Look here,” he continued, drawing a ther- mometer from a round, wooden case; “this will send to your room, and to-morrow morning you must put it mto your hand on first awakening. It will give me the temperature of your body, and thus enable me to regulate the heat of your bath. To-morrow at ten o’clock I will come to you, and be present when you enter the bath : on no account must you enter it alone.” After a few more remarks we separated ; the doctor reiterating his promise to call in the afternoon. It was far too hot to walk about; therefore I returned to the hotel, and threw myself on the sofa, weary and desponding, yet in more hope- ful spirits than I had left it in the morning. Ina very short time I fell asleep in spite of the rushing water, and dreamed that I was on board a steamer starting from the tropics to the North Pole in search of the North Wind. From this delightful sensation, I was speedily awakened by the ringing of the table-d’héte bell: a summons by no means to be disregarded. There was a very small attendance; twenty in all, perhaps. The dinner, to speak temperately, was bad, and I flattered myself that as the number of guests increased, so in proportion it would improve. A hope destined to prove a delusion. First, of course, came soup, thin and poor, which reminded me forcibly of the schoolboy’s recipe—a quart of water boiled down to a pint and served up: then boiled beef, having the appearance of bouilli, without any of the merit of that old-fashioned dish.) ‘Next came ECOMicoOOKS.CoOm