and she screaming, I was in a dream; I thought the old man held ropes in
his hand, and while he was preparing to bind me, Felice had arrived and
struck him with an axe, so that the old man fled exclaiming: “Let me go,
and I promise not to return for a long while.” Beatrice in the meantime
had run into my bedroom shrieking loudly. This woke me up, and I called
out: “Leave her alone; perhaps, when she meant to do me harm, she did me
more good than you were able to do with all your efforts. She may indeed
have saved my life; so lend me a helping hand, for I have sweated; and
be quick about it.” Felice recovered his spirits, dried and made me
comfortable; and I, being conscious of a great improvement in my state,
began to reckon on recovery.
When Maestro Francesco appeared and saw my great improvement, and the
servant-girl in tears, and the prentice running to and fro, and Felice
laughing, all this disturbance made him think that something
extraordinary must have happened, which had been the cause of my
amendment. Just then the other doctor, Bernardino, put in his
appearance, who at the beginning of my illness had refused to bleed me.
Maestro Francesco, that most able man, exclaimed: “Oh, power of Nature!
She knows what she requires, and the physicians know nothing.” That
simpleton, Maestro Bernardino, made answer, saying: “If he had drunk
another bottle he would have been cured upon the spot.” Maestro
Francesco da Norcia, a man of age and great authority, said: “That would
have been a terrible misfortune, and would to God that it may fall on
you!” Afterwards he turned to me and asked if I could have drunk more
water. I answered: “No, because I had entirely quenched my thirst.” Then
he turned to Maestro Bernardino, and said: “Look you how Nature has
taken precisely what she wanted, neither more nor less. In like manner
she was asking for what she wanted when the poor young man begged you to
bleed him. If you knew that his recovery depended upon his drinking two
flasks of water, why did you not say so before? You might then have
boasted of his cure.” At these words the wretched quack sulkily
departed, and never showed his face again.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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