Mesmer held her back as she raised her hands to her head. "Not yet,
Therese. Your bandage must be removed in the presence of my enemies."
"Whom do you expect, master?"
"I have told you—I expect my enemies. Professor Barth will be there to sneer at the charlatan who, by an invisible power, has healed the malady which his couching knife would have sought in vain to remove. Doctor Ingenhaus, my bitter rival, will be there, to find out by what infernal magic the charlatan has cured hundreds of patients pronounced by him incurable. Father Hell will be there, to see if the presence of a great astronomer will not affright the charlatan. Oh, yes!—And others will be there—none seeking knowledge, but all hoping to see me discomfited."
"Do not call yourself so often by that unworthy name," said Therese sorrowfully.
"Men call me so; I may as well accept the title."
"Perhaps they have called you so in days gone by; but from this day they will call you 'Master,' and will crave your pardon for the obloquy they have heaped upon your noble head."
"How little you know of the world, Therese! It never pardons those who convict it of error; and above all other hatred is the hatred that mankind feel for their benefactors."
"Gracious Heaven, master, if this is the world which is to open to my view, in mercy leave me to my blindness!"
She stopped suddenly, and sank back upon the cushion of the sofa. Mesmer raised his hands and passed them before her forehead.
"You are too much excited. Sleep!"