The Adventures of Gil Blas of Santillane, Volume 1 (of 3)Le Sage, Alain René
General
The Adventures of Gil Blas of Santillane, Volume 1 (of 3)
Le Sage, Alain René
Adventure and adventurers -- Fiction; Blas, Gil (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
Thereupon the little pulse-counter set himself about reviewing the
patient's situation; and after having dilated to me on all the
symptoms, asked me what I thought the fittest method of treatment. I
am of opinion, replied I, that he should be bled once a day, and
drink as much warm water as he can swallow. At these words, our
diminutive doctor said to me, with a malicious simper,--And so you
think such a course will save the patient? Never doubt it, exclaimed
I, in a confident tone; it must produce that effect, because it is a
certain method of cure for all distempers. Ask Signor Sangrado. At
that rate, retorted he, Celsus is altogether in the wrong; for he
contends that the readiest way to cure a dropsical subject is to let
him almost die of hunger and thirst. O! as for Celsus, interrupted
I, he is no oracle of mine, as fallible as the meanest of us; I often
have occasion to bless myself for going contrary to his dogmas. I
discover by your language, said Cuchillo, the safe and sure method of
practice Doctor Sangrado instils into his pupils. Bleeding and
drenching are the extent of his resources. No wonder so many worthy
people are cut off under his direction.... No defamation!
interrupted I, with some acrimony; a member of the faculty had better
not begin throwing stones. Come, come, my learned doctor, patients
can get to the other world without bleeding and warm water; and I
question whether the most deadly of us has ever signed more passports
than yourself. If you have any crow to pluck with Signor Sangrado,
write against him, he will answer you, and we shall soon see who will
have the best of the battle. By all the saints in the calendar!
swore he, in a transport of passion, you little know whom you are
talking to. I have a tongue and a fist, my friend; and am not afraid
of Sangrado, who, with all his arrogance and affectation, is but a
ninny. The size of the little death-dealer made me hold his anger
cheap. I gave him a sharp retort; he sent back as good as I brought,
till at last we came to cuffs. We had pulled a few handfuls of hair
from each other's heads before the grocer and his kinsman could part
us. When they had brought this about, they feed me for my
attendance, and retained my antagonist, whom they thought the more
skilful of the two.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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