"I can't. It is impossible."
Then he asked me:
"Do you want to make a complaint?"
I was in great pain, but I said:
"No, make haste and cure me."
They took me into another room, laid me on a table, and the doctor pulled out the splinters with pleasantly cold pincers. He said, jestingly:
"They have decorated your skin beautifully, my friend; now you will be waterproof."
When he had finished his work of pricking me unmercifully, he said:
"Forty-two splinters have been taken out, my friend. Remember that. It is something to boast of! Come back at the same time to-morrow to have the dressing replaced. Do they often beat you?"
I thought for a moment, then said: