'I have some one who has been sick, she answered curtly. 'But he is only weak now. But it is such weakness!—it is like death.'
'He has had the fever?'
'Yes. Quinine is what he should have, is it not? You would know,'
'Quinine and pure wine. I will give you both for your herbs; and as for those baskets, I dare say my wife will take them.'
He called his wife, and she haggled more than he liked over the baskets, but at last consented to buy the lot. Frail baskets are much in favour here, and are used by women marketing, by masons and carpenters for their tools, by anybody who has to carry anything and can carry it with most ease thus.
The wife gave her a handful of bronze pence for the lot, and knew she could sell them again for as many silver ones. The chemist put up quinine in two large phials, and three flasks of pure Campagna wine.
'That is strong and good red Lacrima,' he said to her. 'That will pour life into your sick man as the sunbeams pour colour into the green fruit. As for the quinine—you can read?—then give it him as I have
