“This mixture,” said I, “moistening several times a day the opening of the womb, weakens it to such a degree that the foetus is expelled by its own weight.”
To these details I added lengthy arguments to persuade her of the efficacy of this cure, and then, seeing that she was absorbed in thought, I said that as her lover was away she would want a sure friend to live in the same house with her, and give her the dose according to the directions of Paracelsus.
All at once she burst into a peal of laughter, and asked me if I had been jesting all the time.
I thought the game was up. The remedy was an absurd one, on the face of it; and if her common sense told her as much it would also make her guess my motive. But what limits are there to the credulity of a woman in her condition?
“If you wish,” said I, persuasively, “I will give you the manuscript where all that I have said is set down plainly. I will also shew you what Boerhaeve thinks about it.”
I saw that these words convinced her; they had acted on her as if by magic, and I went on while the iron was hot.
“The aroph,” said I, “is the most powerful agent for bringing on menstruation.”
“And that is incompatible with the state I am now in; so the aroph should procure me a secret deliverance. Do you know its composition?”
“Certainly; it is quite a simple preparation composed of certain ingredients which are well known to me, and which have to be made into a paste with butter or virgin honey. But this composition must touch the orifice of the uterus at a moment of extreme excitement.”
“But in that case it seems to me that the person who gives the dose must be in love.”