"My lungs are weak, my Lady," he says; "I have already had two attacks
of bronchitis. The second time, a great physician joined my own doctor
in attendance on me. He considered my recovery almost in the light
of a miracle. Take care of yourself," he said. "If you have a
third attack of bronchitis, as certainly as two and two make four,
you will be a dead man. I feel the same inward shivering, my Lady,
that I felt on those two former occasions--and I tell you again,
I have caught my death in Venice."
'Speaking some comforting words, the Baron leads him to his room.
The Countess is left alone on the stage.
'She seats herself, and looks towards the door by which the Courier
has been led out. "Ah! my poor fellow," she says, "if you could
only change constitutions with my Lord, what a happy result would
follow for the Baron and for me! If you could only get cured
of a trumpery cold with a little hot lemonade, and if he could
only catch his death in your place--!"
'She suddenly pauses--considers for a while--and springs
to her feet, with a cry of triumphant surprise: the wonderful,
the unparalleled idea has crossed her mind like a flash of lightning.
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