"Oh, what a man! what a man!" cried the abbé. "Do listen to me, doctor, you have a heart of bronze; can you abandon a poor sick man in this manner? Give me five minutes!" "So be it; let us chat if you wish it, my dear abbé. I have a quarter of an hour at your disposal; you are a man of mind, I cannot better employ the time given to this visit." "Ah, doctor, you are cruel!" "If you wish a more agreeable physician, address some others of my fraternity. You will find them eager to give their attention to the celebrated preacher, Abbé Ledoux, the most fashionable director of the Faubourg St. Germain--for, in spite of the Republic, or, for reason of the Republic, there is more than ever a Faubourg St. Germain, and, under every possible administration, the protection of Abbé Ledoux would be a lofty one." "No, doctor, I want no other physician than you, terrible man that you are! Just see the confidence you inspire in me. It seems to me your presence has already done me good,--it calms me." "Poor dear abbé, what confidence! It is touching; that certainly proves that it is only faith which saves." "Do not speak of faith," said the abbé, affecting anger pleasantly. "Be silent, you pagan, materialist, atheist, republican, for you are and have been all, at your pleasure." "Oh, oh, abbé, what an array of fine words!" "You deserve them, wicked man; you will be damned, do you hear?--more than damned!" "God may will it that we may meet each other some day, my poor abbé." "I, damned?" "Eh, eh." "Do I abandon myself as you do to the brutality of all my appetites? Go,--you are a perfect Sardanapalus!" "Flatterer! but then it is your manner. You reproach an old Lovelace for the enormities of which he would like to be guilty, and in the meantime you know that he has none of them; but it is all the same, your reproaches delight him, they render him cheerful; then he confesses all sorts of sins, of which, alas! he is incapable, poor man, and you have the air of giving a last pretext to his decaying imbecility." "Fie! fie! doctor, the serpent had no more malignity than you." "You reproach the broken-down politician, the powerless man of state, not less furiously, for his dark intrigues to overthrow the political world,--Europe, perhaps. Then with what unction the poor man relishes your reproaches! Everybody flies him like a pest when he opens his mouth to bore them with his politics; but what good fortune for him to unveil to you his Machiavellian projects for the advantage of the destinies of Europe, and to find a patient listener to the ravings of his old age." "Yes, yes, jest, jeer, ridicule, you rascally doctor! You wish to excuse yourself by reviling others." "Let us see, abbé, let us make an examination of conscience. Our professions will be inverted; I, the physician for the body, am going to ask a consultation with you, the physician for the soul." "And you will have precious need of this consultation." "Of what do you accuse me, abbé?"