The Doctor’s Dilemma

pleasure to me, for your sake. Sir Colenso Ridgeon will be in his proper place, in the bacteriological laboratory. I shall be in my proper place, at the bedside. Your husband shall be treated exactly as if he were a member of the royal family. Mrs. Dubedat, uneasy, again is about to protest. No gratitude: it would embarrass me, I assure you. Now, may I ask whether you are particularly tied to these apartments. Of course, the motor has annihilated distance; but I confess that if you were rather nearer to me, it would be a little more convenient. Mrs. Dubedat You see, this studio and flat are self-contained. I have suffered so much in lodgings. The servants are so frightfully dishonest. B.B. Ah! Are they? Are they? Dear me! Mrs. Dubedat I was never accustomed to lock things up. And I missed so many small sums. At last a dreadful thing happened. I missed a five-pound note. It was traced to the housemaid; and she actually said Louis had given it to her. And he wouldn’t let me do anything: he is so sensitive that these things drive him mad. B.B. Ah⁠—hm⁠—ha⁠—yes⁠—say no more, Mrs. Dubedat: you shall not move. If the mountain will not come to Muhammad, Muhammad must come to the mountain. Now I must be off. I will write and make an appointment. We shall begin stimulating the phagocytes on⁠—on⁠—probably on Tuesday next; but I will let you know. Depend on me; don’t fret; eat regularly; sleep well; keep your spirits up; keep the patient cheerful; hope for the best; no tonic like a charming woman; no medicine like cheerfulness; no resource like science; goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. Having shaken hands⁠—she being too overwhelmed to speak⁠—he goes out, stopping to say to Ridgeon: On Tuesday morning send me down a tube of some really stiff antitoxin. Any kind will do. Don’t forget. Goodbye, Colly. He goes out. Ridgeon You look quite discouraged again. She is almost in tears. What’s the matter? Are you disappointed? Mrs. Dubedat I know I ought to be very grateful. Believe me, I am very grateful. But⁠—but⁠— Ridgeon Well? Mrs. Dubedat I had set my heart your curing Louis. Ridgeon Well, Sir Ralph Bloomfield Bonington⁠— Mrs. Dubedat Yes, I know, I know. It is a great privilege to have him. But oh, I wish it had been you. I know it’s unreasonable; I can’t explain; but I had such a strong instinct that you would cure him. I don’t⁠—I can’t feel the same about Sir Ralph. You promised me. Why did you give Louis up? Ridgeon I explained to you. I cannot take another case. Mrs. Dubedat But at Richmond? Ridgeon At Richmond I thought I could make room for one more case. But my old friend Dr. Blenkinsop claimed that place. His lung is attacked. Mrs. Dubedat Attaching no importance whatever to Blenkinsop. Do you mean that elderly man⁠—that rather⁠— Ridgeon Sternly. I mean the gentleman that dined with us: an excellent and honest man, whose life is as valuable as anyone else’s. I have arranged that I shall take his case, and that Sir Ralph Bloomfield Bonington shall take Mr. Dubedat’s. Mrs. Dubedat Turning indignantly on him. I see what it is. Oh! it is envious, mean, cruel. And I thought that you would be above such a thing. Ridgeon What do you mean? Mrs. Dubedat Oh, do you think I don’t know? do you think it has never happened before? Why does everybody turn against him? Can you not forgive him for being superior to you? for being cleverer? for being braver? for being a great artist? Ridgeon Yes: I can forgive him for all that. Mrs. Dubedat Well, have you anything to say against him? I have challenged everyone who has turned against him⁠—challenged them face to face to tell me any wrong thing he has done, any ignoble thought he has uttered. They have always confessed that they could not tell me one. I challenge you now. What do you accuse him of? Ridgeon I am like all the rest. Face to face, I cannot tell you one thing against him. Mrs. Dubedat Not satisfied. But your manner is changed. And you have broken your promise to me to make room for him as your patient. Ridgeon I think you are a little unreasonable. You have had the very best medical advice in London for him; and his case has been taken in hand by a leader of the profession. Surely⁠— Mrs. Dubedat Oh, it is so cruel to keep telling me that. It seems all right; and it puts me in the wrong. But I am not in the wrong. I have faith in you; and I have no faith in the others. We have seen so many doctors: I have come to know at last when they are only talking and can do nothing. It is different with you. I feel that you know. You must listen to me, doctor. With sudden misgiving. Am I offending you by calling you doctor instead of remembering your title? Ridgeon Nonsense. I am a doctor. But mind you, don’t call Walpole one. Mrs. Dubebat I don’t care about Mr. Walpole: it is you who must befriend me. Oh, will you please sit down and listen to me just for a few minutes. He assents with a grave inclination, and sits on the sofa. She sits on the easel chair. Thank you. I won’t keep you long; but I must tell you the whole truth. Listen. I know Louis as nobody else in the world knows him or ever can know him. I am his wife. I know he has little faults: impatiences, sensitivenesses, even little selfishnesses that are too trivial for him to notice. I know that he sometimes shocks people about money because he is so utterly above it, and can’t understand the value ordinary people set on it. Tell me: did he⁠—did he borrow any money from you? Ridgeon He asked me for some once. Mrs. Dubedat Tears again