I left the room and descended to my study, where I procured my instruments and the requisite anæsthetic.
CHAPTER VI.—MIRIAM BENARY.
I watched her carefully as she recovered from the effects of the ether. An uncommonly small quantity of that drug had sufficed to deprive her of her senses; and now her recovery was unusually speedy.
Having taken her respiration, her temperature, and her pulse, and having found each to be nearly normal, I looked her straight in the eyes, and demanded, making every syllable clear and emphatic, “Louise Massarte, do you know me?”
Had I addressed my inquiry to a month-old infant, the result would have been the same.
I repeated the question in French: “Louise Massarte, me reconnaissez vous?”—with precisely the same negative result.
I then wrote the question both in French and English upon a slip of paper, and held it before her eyes.
No sign of intelligence.