Dubourg was careful not to attempt any cures in the neighborhood of the places where he stopped to eat or to sleep. After travelling about forty leagues in a fortnight,--for, as the great healer halted frequently to sell his drugs, and as his steed's best gait was a slow trot, he did not get ahead very fast,--Dubourg found himself one day in front of an extensive farm. It was a long while since he had sold anything, for as he drew nearer to the capital he found the country people less and less gullible. His fortune had not increased. He spent regularly at night what he had earned during the day; and when his receipts were large, he fared sumptuously, content to leave his original hoard untouched. The appearance of the farm made Dubourg disposed to stop there. As he had neither bugle nor hunting-horn, he announced his presence with his mechanical syringe, beating time with his cane on the wig-block. The farm people came out. Among them Dubourg noticed a fresh, rosy-cheeked girl, with a mischievous eye and a small foot, and he at once conceived a fervent desire to become her physician. Several buxom dairymaids procured ointments for fever and chilblains, and a number of peasants bought pastilles of mint and cachou for toothache; but one and all stared in amazement at the marvellous syringe that made music, and the wig-block that spoke when it was stormy, as its owner assured them. The pretty girl was a daughter of the farmer, who happened to be absent. With her was her aunt, a good old soul who believed in dreams, fortune telling, magic, ghosts, talismans, and sorcerers. She was anxious to consult Dubourg, because for three nights past she had fallen asleep on her back and waked up on her stomach, which she considered very extraordinary. "I'll give you something that will keep you from changing your position," said our charlatan to the old woman, while ogling the young one; "here are some pastilles that came to me from a native of the Guinea Coast, who sometimes slept a whole week on his left ear. But if you take them in moderate doses, you pass a delightful night, and have charming dreams, divine dreams, such dreams as you had at fifteen! It is so pleasant, that you don't want to wake up. And then, my dear lady, when you have taken them, you are certain to dream of any person you choose; all you need to do is walk round your somno before you go to bed." "Oh! my dear monsieur," said the old woman, "pray give me some of the pastilles at once; I'll eat some every night. I mean to dream of my first husband this very night; he was a dear, good man, not a sot like my second. I'll walk round the somno, monsieur; I won't fail." Dubourg gave her a box of laxative pills, which she received with deep gratitude; then he turned to the young woman and asked her what he could do for her.