| BOOK FIFTH.
CHAPTER 1. ABBAS BEATI MARTINI.
 (continued)Gossip Tourangeau obeyed, and read this inscription engraved
 above his head: "Medicine is the daughter of dreams.--JAMBLIQUE." Meanwhile, Doctor Jacques Coictier had heard his
 companion's question with a displeasure which Dom Claude's
 response had but redoubled.  He bent down to the ear of
 Gossip Tourangeau, and said to him, softly enough not to be
 heard by the archdeacon: "I warned you that he was mad.
 You insisted on seeing him." "'Tis very possible that he is right, madman as he is, Doctor
 Jacques," replied his comrade in the same low tone, and with
 a bitter smile. "As you please," replied Coictier dryly.  Then, addressing
 the archdeacon: "You are clever at your trade, Dom Claude,
 and you are no more at a loss over Hippocrates than a
 monkey is over a nut.  Medicine a dream!  I suspect that the
 pharmacopolists and the master physicians would insist upon
 stoning you if they were here.  So you deny the influence of
 philtres upon the blood, and unguents on the skin!  You deny
 that eternal pharmacy of flowers and metals, which is called
 the world, made expressly for that eternal invalid called man!" "I deny," said Dom Claude coldly, "neither pharmacy nor the
 invalid.  I reject the physician." "Then it is not true," resumed Coictier hotly, "that gout
 is an internal eruption; that a wound caused by artillery is to
 be cured by the application of a young mouse roasted; that
 young blood, properly injected, restores youth to aged veins;
 it is not true that two and two make four, and that
 emprostathonos follows opistathonos." The archdeacon replied without perturbation: "There are
 certain things of which I think in a certain fashion." Coictier became crimson with anger. "There, there, my good Coictier, let us not get angry," said
 Gossip Tourangeau.  "Monsieur the archdeacon is our friend." Coictier calmed down, muttering in a low tone,-- "After all, he's mad." |