One hour after, the physician called. He found his fair patient a little feverish, pronounced that there was nothing serious, and that she would soon be well. He gave her a little powder, to be taken three times a day, and left; but at nine p.m., she complained of a great pain in the chest, and soon fainted and fell on the floor.
The doctor was again immediately sent for, but he was from home: it took nearly half an hour before he could come. When he arrived the alarming crisis was over—she was sitting in an arm-chair, with some neighbouring women, who were applying cold water and vinegar to her forehead.
The physician was really at a loss what to say of the cause of such a sudden illness. At last he said that it might be an attack of the "ver solitaire" (tape-worm). He declared that it was not dangerous; that he knew how to cure her. He ordered some new powder to be taken, and left, after having promised to return the next day. Half an hour after she began to complain of a most terrible pain in her chest, and fainted again; but before doing so she said to her husband,—
"My dear, you see that the physician understands absolutely nothing of the nature of my disease. I have not the least confidence in him, for I feel that his powders make me worse. I do not want to see him any more. I suffer more than you suspect, my beloved; and if there is not soon a change I may be dead tomorrow. The only physician I want is our holy confessor; please make haste to go and get him. I want to make a general confession, and to receive the holy viaticum (communion) and extreme unction before I grow worse."
Beside himself with anxiety, the distracted husband ordered the horse to be put in the buggy, and made his servant accompany him on horseback, to ring the bell, while his pastor carried "the good god" (Le Bon Dieu) to his dear sick wife.
He found the priest piously reading his breviarium (his book of daily prayers); and admired the charity and promptitude with which his good pastor, in that dark and chilly night, was ready to leave his warm and comfortable parsonage at the first appeal of the sick. In less than an hour the husband had taken the priest with "the good god" from the church to the bedroom of his wife.
All along the way the servant-man had rung a big hand-bell to awaken the sleeping farmers, who, at the noise, had to jump, half naked out of their beds and worship, on their knees, with their faces prostrate in the dust, "the good god" which was being carried to the sick.
On his arrival, the confessor, with every appearance of sincere piety, deposited "the good god" (Le Bon Dieu) on a table, richly prepared for such a solemn occasion, and, approaching the bed, leaned his head towards his penitent, and inquired how she felt.
She answered him, "I am very sick, and want to make a general confession before I die."
Speaking to her husband, she said with a fainting voice, "Please, my dear, tell my friends to withdraw from the room, that I may not be distracted when making what may be my last confession."