Barty wrote immediately and an appointment was made, and in three days he saw the great man, half professor, half priest, who took him into a dark chamber lighted by a lamp, and dilated his pupil with atropine, and looked into his eye with the newly discovered "ophthalmoscope."
Professor Noiret told him it was merely a congestion of the retina—for which no cause could be assigned; and that he would be cured in less than a month. That he was to have a seton let into the back of his neck, dry‑cup himself on the chest and thighs night and morning, and take a preparation of mercury three times a day. Also that he must go to the seaside immediately—and he recommended Ostend.
Barty told him that he was an impecunious art student, and that Ostend was a very expensive place.
Noiret considerately recommended Blankenberghe, which was cheap; asked for and took his full fee, and said, with a courtly priestly bow:
"If you are not cured, come back in a month. Au revoir!"
So poor Barty had the seton put in by a kind of barber‑surgeon, and was told how to dress it night and morning; got his medicines and his dry‑cupping apparatus, and went off to Blankenberghe quite hopeful.
And there things happened to him which I really think are worth telling; in the first place, because, even if they did not concern Barty Josselin, they should be amusing for their own sake—that is, if I could only tell them as he told me afterwards; and I will do my best!
And then he was nearing the end of the time when he was to remain as other mortals are. His new life was soon to open, the great change to which we owe the Barty Josselin who had changed the world for us!"
Besides, this is a biography—not a novel—not literature! So what does it matter how it's written, so long as it's all true!