"Very well," said Dr. Tolliers. "I shall wait. Only, if any in your household fall ill, should you yourself feel the chalice of death in your bosom like the bad taste of the wargues, do not call me, for I shall no longer come. I can follow you no longer, unless it be to the foot of the gallows. Farewell."
"Doctor, please! What will one say of the death of this poor servant?"
"It is just," said the physician, and he accompanied Villefaramir back to the salon where the household were still keeping watch over the remains of Barahier. "Monsieur," said Dr. Tolliers aloud to the steuard that all might hear. "The poor Barahier has died of a surfeit of spam." And the doctor, without uttering another word or looking at M. de Villefaramir, left accompanied by the tears and lamentations of all the house.
In the days that followed, dying in Voûte du vautour became almost a vogue, albeit one that many found highly distasteful. After Dénéthoirtier's poodle gave up the ghost, the remaining servants decided that they had had enough, and came to ask permission to resign, for death reigned in that house. They left therefore, despite all pleas that they should stay, manifesting their regret at leaving such good masters, especially Mlle. Valartine, so beneficent and gentle.
