“By no means, I can assure you that a good deal would have to happen before I would forego the pleasure of your charming society. Oh, no,” he continued, “I have given my orders—the rest, the chief of my staff will see to.”
“And you,” said Laurentia, turning to another of her newly-arrived guests, “have not these sad tidings given you a great deal to do? A very large medical staff will have to accompany the expedition—at least, as member of the Red Cross I have received some such intimation from Batavia.”
“No, madam,” replied the gentleman thus addressed, who was chief medical officer at Santjoemeh. “I have not to complain of overwork. Every provision for our expedition to Atjeh has been made and I need not trouble my head about it any more. But, for all that, I can assure you that I was in real danger of being obliged to miss your pleasant party this evening.”
“Indeed,” said Laurentia, with much assumed interest, “I hope there is no case of serious illness among our friends, doctor?”
“I am glad to say there is not, madam,” replied the doctor. “But, as I was at my dinner this afternoon, the young surgeon on duty at the hospital came running in to tell me that I was urgently wanted. A young native, he said, had been brought in by the police, who was in a most dreadful condition, suffering from something which completely puzzled him. His diagnostica was altogether at fault.”
“His—what was at fault, did you say, doctor?” enquired Mrs van Gulpendam.
“His diagnostica, madam,” replied the surgeon. “That is the name, you know, we give to the science by which we recognize a special form of disease. Well, as the young fellow assured me that the patient was in an extremely critical state—in fact in extremis—I had no choice but to go and see him. You know, dear madam,” proceeded the surgeon, sententiously, “a physician’s devotion must be that of a priest.”
“Oh, I know, of course,” replied Laurentia, with a slight smile; “but pray go on.”
“Well,” continued the surgeon, “I went all the way to the hospital. And now, just guess what was the matter!—Oh, those young doctors of the new school! The fellow had his mouth full of fine words—of absent diaeresis, of efflorescentia, of formicatio, of hemianthropia, and what not. But he couldn’t see with all his brand new science, that he had to do with a very simple—though I must own—a most severe case of urtication.”
“A severe case of what?” enquired Laurentia.