The other answered, “No! No! No!” George caught him by the hand, imploringly. “Yes! Science in all powerful!” “Science is not God,” was the reply. “There are no longer any miracles.” “If only you wanted to do it!” cried the young man, hysterically. “You are a learned man; seek, invent, find something! Try some new plan with me; give me double the dose, ten times the does; make me suffer. I give myself up to you; I will endure everything--I swear it! There ought to be some way to cure me within six months. Listen to me! I tell you I can’t answer for myself with that delay. Come; it is in the name of my wife, in the name of my children, that I implore you. Do something for them!” The doctor had reached the limit of his patience. “Enough, sir!” he cried. “Enough!” But nothing could stop the wretched man. “On my knees!” he cried. “I put myself on my knees before you! Oh! If only you would do it! I would bless you; I would adore you, as one adores a god! All my gratitude, all my life--half my fortune! For mercy’s sake, Doctor, do something; invent something; make some discovery--have pity!” The doctor answered gravely, “Do you wish me to do more for you than for the others?” George answered, unblushingly, ‘answered, unblushingly, “Yes!” He was beside himself with terror and distress. The other’s reply was delivered in a solemn tone. “Understand, sir, for every one of out patients we do all that we can, whether it be the greatest personage, or the last comer to out hospital clinic. We have no secrets in reserve for those who are more fortunate, or less fortunate than the others, and who are in a hurry to be cured.” George gazed at him for a moment in bewilderment and despair, and then suddenly bowed his head. “Good-by, Doctor,” he answered. “Au revoir, sir,” the other corrected--with what proved to be prophetic understanding. For George was destined to see him again--even though he had made up his mind to the contrary! CHAPTER III George Dupont had the most important decision of his life to make; but there was never very much doubt what his decision would be. One the one hand was the definite certainty that if he took the doctor’s advice, he would wreck his business prospects, and perhaps also lose the woman he loved. On the other hand were vague and uncertain possibilities which it was difficult for him to make real to himself. It was all very well to wait a while to be cured of the dread disease; but to wait three or four years--that was simply preposterous! He decided to consult another physician. He would find one this time who would not be so particular, who would be willing to take some trouble to cure him quickly. He began to notice the advertisements which were scattered over the pages of the newspapers he read. There were apparently plenty of doctors in Paris who could cure him, who were willing to guarantee to cure him. After much hesitation, he picked out one whose advertisement sounded the most convincing.