“He does not recollect me,” murmured Stein, while the large tears trembled in his eyes; “that is not strange: generous souls forget the good they confer, preserving eternally the favors they receive.”
“Wretched beginning,” said one of the assistants; “a surgeon who weeps!”
“What sad chance!” added another.
“Doctor,” said the duke to Stein, “I place myself in your hands, I confide myself to God, to you, and to my lucky star. I am ready, do not lose time.”
At these words Stein raised his head; his countenance remained calm, and by a silent gesture, but imperative and firm, he banished the spectators to a distance. Then he felt the duke with an accustomed and experienced hand. He displayed so much assurance and dexterity that every one kept silent. No sound was heard in the cell but the agitated breathing of the patient.
“Duke,” said Stein, after having completed his examination of the sprained ankle and the broken leg, “without doubt it is here the weight of the horse has fallen. Still, I believe I shall succeed in effecting a complete cure.”
“Will I become a cripple for life?” asked the duke.
“In my opinion, I can assure you, no.”
“Prove it so, and I will say that you are the best surgeon in the world.”
Stein, without stirring, sent for Manuel, whose strength and punctuality he knew. With his assistance he commenced operations which were more painful than can be imagined; but Stein seemed to take no notice of the pain the invalid felt, and whom he made almost to lose consciousness.