In the meanwhile M. Coquebert examined the wound
“You see,” I said, “it’s small, and bleeds but little.”
“That’s not good at all,” he replied, “and I do not like it, my dear young gentleman. I like a large wound which bleeds freely.”
“I see,” said M. d’Anquetil, “that for a leech and a village squirt your test is not a bad one. Nothing is worse than those little but deep wounds which look a mere nothing. Tell me of a nice cut across the face. It’s pleasant to look on, and heals in no time. But know, my good sir, that this wounded man is my chaplain, and plays piquet with me. Are you the man to put him on his legs again, notwithstanding your looks, which are rather those of a vet?”
“At your service,” replied the barber-surgeon, bowing profoundly. “But I also set broken bones and treat wounds. I’ll examine this one.”
“Make haste, sir,” I said.
“Patience!” he replied. “First of all the wound must be washed, and I must wait till the water gets warm.”
My good tutor, a little restored, said slowly, but with a fairly strong voice:
“Lamp in hand, he’ll visit the corners of Jerusalem, and what is hidden in darkness will be brought to light.”
“What do you mean, dear master?”