This has become a tradition.
"They're going to cure little Antoinette," says Benoit, as he frames himself in the doorway.
Benoit is like a newspaper.

He to whom nothing ever happens only lives to announce what is happening to others.
"I know," cries Mame, "they told me so this morning.

Several people already knew it this morning at seven.

A big, famous doctor's coming to the castle itself, for the hunting, and he only treats just the eyes." "Poor little angel!" sighs a woman, who has just come in.
Brisbille intervenes, rancorous and quarrelsome, "Yes, they're always going to cure the child, so they say.

Bad luck to them! Who cares about her ?" "Everybody does!" reply two incensed women, in the same breath.
"And meanwhile," said Brisbille, viciously, "she's snuffing it." And he chews, once more, his customary saying--pompous and foolish as the catchword of a public meeting--"She's a victim of society!" Monsieur Joseph Boneas has come into Brisbille's, and he does it complacently, for he is not above mixing with the people of the neighborhood.