Mad Love Page #3

your nerves are a little weak,

- I suggest you bring a flask of cognac.

- No. Gin, Chief.

Gin for executions, beer for birthdays,

wine for weddings and champagne.

- Oh, champagne.

- For what?

You ask that and you're a Frenchman?

Dr. Gogol's clinic on the wire.

Her first natural sleep in weeks.

Poor little thing.

Tomorrow you can take the boards out

from under her.

- Telephone for you, Professor.

- Don't disturb me now.

- The brace will give sufficient support.

- Yes, Professor.

But, it's the Prefect of Police himself.

He insists.

Yes, Monsieur Rosset?

Yes.

Rollo?

Tomorrow at 6:
00?

Of course, I'll be there. Thank you.

Is that Dr. Gogol, the famous surgeon?

- You're very inquisitive.

- Well, that's my job to be inquisitive.

I wonder if I could get him

to write some articles for our newspaper.

You'll see him at the guillotine.

Why not ask him?

Good idea.

Rollo's train gets in

from Fontainebleau in 20 minutes.

Like to come to the station with me?

Why, certainly. A welcome committee

and a farewell party rolled into one.

Hey, Chief, let's get out of here.

This thing's a Turkish bath.

Can you please tell me when

the Fontainebleau Express will arrive?

Go ahead and tell her, Chief.

No one seems to know, madame.

It's 20 minutes late already.

Hey, Chief, look.

What's the matter?

Has this whole town gone crazy?

Wrecked! Number 18 is wrecked!

What train is wrecked?

Sorry, madame,

I can't give any information.

Then give it to me.

Fontainebleau Express,

Monsieur le Prefect.

- Is it serious?

- I don't know, madame.

- Where was it?

- Near Geron, 20 miles out.

Relief train leaving on Track 9.

- Please.

- Can I see you a minute?

Please. Please, may I go

with the relief train?

- Sorry, madam, it's against orders.

- Come on, we'll get a taxi.

All right, fellows. Come on, everybody.

Stephen!

Help me, please. Please help me.

Help me somebody! Please, here.

- Well, Doctor?

- Your husband will live.

Madame, what joy.

The head injury is not serious.

It's only his hands.

- Only his hands?

- I'm afraid we shall have to amputate.

Amputate! No, no!

No, Doctor, you don't understand!

His hands... He's a great pianist!

But even so, madame, what are hands

when it's a matter of saving life?

- But his hands are his life!

- Excuse me.

- Madame, Dr. Gogol.

- Oh, no, not that man.

But he's a genius, madame,

and if it means Monsieur Stephen's life?

Yes. Yes.

Doctor... Doctor, can you get an

ambulance to take my husband to Paris

- to Dr. Gogol's house immediately?

- But, madame...

I know the risk. I'll take the responsibility.

Dr. Marbeau,

there are two operations waiting.

As you wish, madame.

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