Then Széphalmi went into an adjoining chamber, where he encountered Dr. Sarkantyús, and showed him the letter.
Dr. Sarkantyús thereupon told him that his honour, Judge Ligety, was a big donkey, that the French doctor was a still bigger one, but that the old gentleman would be the biggest one of all if he allowed himself to be meddled with. Let them try it, however, by all means, if they choose, he added.
Nevertheless, he could not help going out to have a look at this miraculous Scarabœus that professed to be able to cure men with the tips of its antennæ.
The young man greeted him with refined courtesy, and the Doctor anxious to show him that he understood French, addressed him in what he supposed to be that language, a smattering of which he had picked up as far back as the time of the Emperor Napoleon I.
"Vooz-ate oon medesen, monshoo?"
"Oui, monsieur, mon collègue."
"The Devil is your collègue, I am not!—Vooe-ate oon magnetizoor, monshoo?"
"Oui mon cher bonhomme."
"Zate—oon—sharlatanery, monshoo!"
"Comme toute la médecine, monsieur."