"There is nothing new nor marvellous about the 'Dreams' method. It is—persistent narcosis obtained from the subcutaneous injections of morphine with the hydrobromide of hyoscine, another alkaloid obtained from henbane. I have visited not only the Institute at Berlin, but the Rottburg Fraüenklinik—and an establishment of the same type in Paris, and another in Brussels. It is a fact that when a patient awakens from the anæsthesia there is no recollection of anything that has taken place subsequently to the injection of the drug."
"There has been no pain. Absolutely—none whatever!" She spoke with a little, joyful catch in her breath.
"Pardon me," said Saxham. "You labour under a delusion which the rose-coloured pamphlet was not written to dispel. There must have been pain—if there has been childbirth. Perhaps there has been overwhelming pain. Pain manifested by outcries and convulsions—violent struggles—subdued by the attendants and nurses—for the friends and relatives of the patient are rigidly excluded—the patient enters and leaves the Home alone. Two or three days may have vanished in that vacuum which has been created in her memory. Days in which she has been lying—it may be—strapped to the bed in the private ward of the nursing home—her purple, congested face and staring eyes concealed by a mask of wetted linen—her agonies only witnessed by paid attendants whose interests are best served by denial or concealment—supposing anything to have gone wrong?"
The relentless surgeon's hand had torn away the painted curtain. Margot contemplated the grim truth in silence for a moment. Then she found words:
"But nothing ever does go wrong. The pink pamphlet says so. My American friend's sister-in-law says so.... Thousands of women have had children under scopolo—what's its name? And none of them felt pain—not the slightest. And in every case—in every case—there was the baby when they woke up!"
The sweet bird-voice quivered. She had entered the room so full of hope and enthusiasm, and this man with the piercing eyes and the brusque, direct manner was putting things before her in a way that dashed and damped. Hear him now:
"Yes, there is generally a baby—when it is necessary there should be one. Though the patients who are treated in the free wards of German and Austrian Kliniks may not always be scrupulous upon this point. Still, if the treatment can be carried out without undue peril for the mother—and I do not allow this for a single moment—have you not considered the risk for the child?"
Margot had pulled off one long glove. Now she murmured, setting the tip of a little bare, jewelled finger near the corner of a distracting little mouth:
"You consider that it's handicapping the start for—the kiddie?"
The avalanche fell; shocking and freezing and stunning her.