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...the corset and gown.  I had hidden some food in my bed chamber the previous night however, and nibbled sparingly of the remains of the cornish hen we'd eaten the previous night.

Perhaps the meat was off.  I do not know.  But I swooned during the fitting.  The maidservants called for the doctor, but our family doctor was unavailable, delivering a new child elsewhere in the city.  His assistant, Dr. Yousuf attended me...

Dr. Yousuf was an enormous man of undetermined heritage.  He had dark skin and thick eyebrows that gave him a brooding predisposition.  My mother believed he was Russian, or at the very least from Constantinople.  Veronica, my handmaiden at the time, thought him Greek.

He carried about him the air of absolute authority, so when he said that there was a grave issue and that he must attend to me in private at once, none of them thought to argue.  Certainly, I was in no condition to protest.

Dr. Yousuf Took Me Away...

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