"You reproach the broken-down politician, the powerless man of state, not less furiously, for his dark intrigues to overthrow the political world,—Europe, perhaps. Then with what unction the poor man relishes your reproaches! Everybody flies him like a pest when he opens his mouth to bore them with his politics; but what good fortune for him to unveil to you his Machiavellian projects for the advantage of the destinies of Europe, and to find a patient listener to the ravings of his old age."
"Yes, yes, jest, jeer, ridicule, you rascally doctor! You wish to excuse yourself by reviling others."
"Let us see, abbé, let us make an examination of conscience. Our professions will be inverted; I, the physician for the body, am going to ask a consultation with you, the physician for the soul."
"And you will have precious need of this consultation."
"Of what do you accuse me, abbé?"
"In the first place, you are a glutton, like Vitellius, Lucullus, the Prince of Soubise, Talleyrand, D'Aigrefeuille, Cambacérès, and Brillat-Savarin all together."
"A flatterer always! You reproach me for my only great and lofty quality."
"Ah, come now, doctor, do you take me for an oyster with your frivolous talk?"
"Take you for an oyster? How conceited you are! Unfortunately, I cannot make a comparison so advantageous to you, abbé. It would be a heresy, an anachronism. Good oysters (and others are not counted as existing) do not give the right to discuss them until about the middle of November, and we are by no means there."
"This, doctor, may be very witty, but it does not convince me in the least that gluttony is, in you or any other person, a quality."