I had just taken possession of my room in the hotel, a narrow den between two papered
partitions, through which I could hear every sound made by my neighbors; and I was
beginning to arrange my clothes and linen in the wardrobe with a long mirror, when I
opened the drawer which is in this piece of furniture. I immediately noticed a roll of
paper. Having opened it, I spread it out before me, and read this title:
It was the diary of a guest at the watering place, of the last occupant of my room, and had
been forgotten at the moment of departure.
These notes may be of some interest to sensible and healthy persons who never leave
their own homes. It is for their benefit that I transcribe them without altering a letter.
"CHATEL-GUYON, July 15th.
"At the first glance it is not lively, this country. However, I am going to spend twenty-
five days here, to have my liver and stomach treated, and to get thin. The twenty-five
days of any one taking the baths are very like the twenty-eight days of the reserves; they
are all devoted to fatigue duty, severe fatigue duty. To-day I have done nothing as yet; I
have been getting settled. I have made the acquaintance of the locality and of the doctor.
Chatel-Guyon consists of a stream in which flows yellow water, in the midst of several
hillocks on which are a casino, some houses, and some stone crosses. On the bank of the
stream, at the end of the valley, may be seen a square building surrounded by a little
garden; this is the bathing establishment. Sad people wander around this building--the
invalids. A great silence reigns in the walks shaded by trees, for this is not a pleasure
resort, but a true health resort; one takes care of one's health as a business, and one gets
well, so it seems.
"Those who know affirm, even, that the mineral springs perform true miracles here.
However, no votive offering is hung around the cashier's office.
"From time to time a gentleman or a lady comes over to a kiosk with a slate roof, which
shelters a woman of smiling and gentle aspect, and a spring boiling in a basin of cement:
Not a word is exchanged between the invalid and the female custodian of the healing
water. She hands the newcomer a little glass in which air bubbles sparkle in the
transparent liquid. The guest drinks and goes off with a grave step to resume his
interrupted walk beneath the trees.
"No noise in the little park, no breath of air in the leaves; no voice passes through this
silence. One ought to write at the entrance to this district: 'No one laughs here; they take
care of their health.'
