... the English people would not stand him—­he was responsible for the failure of the Exhibition, the English having gone away when they saw him there so well-dressed and happy ... all the French people knew this, too, and would not stand him any more....  On October the 29th, Oscar got up for the first time at mid-day, and after dinner in the evening insisted on going out—­he assured me that the doctor had said he might do so and would not listen to any protest.

I had urged him to get up some days before as the doctor said he might do so, but he had hitherto refused.  We went to a small cafe in the Latin Quartier, where he insisted on drinking absinthe.  He walked there and back with some difficulty, but seemed fairly well.  Only I thought he had suddenly aged in face, and remarked to Reggie next day how different he looked when up and dressed.  He appeared comparatively well in bed. (I noticed for the first time that his hair was slightly tinged with grey.  I had always remarked that his hair had never altered its colour while he was in Reading;[60] it retained its soft brown tone.  You must remember the jests he used to make about it, he always amused the warders by saying that his hair was perfectly white.) Next day I was not surprised to find Oscar suffering with a cold and great pain in his ear; however, Dr. Tucker said he might go out again, and the following afternoon, a very mild day, we drove in the Bois.  Oscar was much better, but complained of giddiness; we returned about 4.30.  On Saturday morning, November 3rd, I met the Panseur Hennion (Reggie always called him the Libre Penseur), he came every day to dress Oscar’s wounds.  He asked me if I was a great friend or knew Oscar’s relatives.  He assured me that Oscar’s general condition was very serious—­that he could not live more than three or four months unless he altered his way of life—­that I ought to speak to Dr. Tucker, who did not realise Oscar’s serious state—­that the ear trouble was not of much importance in itself, but a grave symptom.  On Sunday morning I saw Dr. Tucker—­he is a silly, kind, excellent man; he said Oscar ought to write more—­that he was much better, and that his condition would only become serious when he got up and went about in the usual way.  I begged him to be frank.  He promised to ask Oscar if he might talk to me openly on the subject of Oscar’s health.  I saw him on the Tuesday following by appointment; he was very vague; and though he endorsed Hennion’s view to some extent, said that Oscar was getting well now, though he could not live long unless he stopped drinking.  On going to see Oscar later in the day I found him very agitated.  He said he did not want to know what the doctor had told me.  He said he did not care if he had only a short time to live and then went off on to the subject of his debts, which I gather amounted to something over more than L400.[61] He asked me to see that at all events some of them were paid if I was in a position