A few minutes after this operation, which I had performed as if by instinct and on the spur of the moment, Camille and I went away in a coach, and I told her so many wonderful tales that when she got out at her door she looked quite mazed.
Four or five days after, when I had almost forgotten the farce, I heard a carriage stopping at my door, and looking out of my window saw M. de la Tour d’Auvergne skipping nimbly out of the carriage.
“You were sure of success, then,” said he, “as you did not come to see me the day after your astounding operation.”
“Of course I was sure, but if I had not been too busy you would have seen me, for all that.”
“May I take a bath?”
“No, don’t bathe till you feel quite well.”
“Very good. Everybody is in a state of astonishment at your feat, as I could not help telling the miracle to all my acquaintances. There are certainly some sceptics who laugh at me, but I let them talk.”
“You should have kept your own counsel; you know what Paris is like. Everybody will be considering me as a master-quack.”
“Not at all, not at all. I have come to ask a favour of you.”
“What’s that?”