“Alas, Brother Aubrey, have you spoken to such and such physicians?”
“Yes, certainly, my dear,” he replied. “There is not a doctor or surgeon in Paris who has not studied my case.”
“And what do they say? Will you have to suffer this pain for a long time?”
“Alas! yes; until I die, unless God helps me; for there is but one remedy for ray complaint, and I would rather die than reveal what that is,—for it is very far from decent, and quite foreign to my holy profession.”
“What?” cried the poor girl. “Then there is a remedy! Then is it not very wrong and sinful of you to allow yourself to suffer thus? Truly it seems so to me, for you are in danger of losing sense and understanding, so sharp and terrible is the pain.”
“By God, very sharp and terrible it is,” said Brother Aubrey, “but there!—God sent it; praised be His name. I willingly suffer and bear all, and patiently await death, for that is the only remedy indeed—excepting one I mentioned to you—which can cure me.”
“But what is that?”
“I told you that I should not dare to say what it is,—and even if I were obliged to reveal what it is, I should never have the will or power to put it in execution.”
“By St. Martin!” said the good woman, “it appears to me that you are very wrong to talk like that. Pardieu! tell me what will cure you, and I assure you that I will do my utmost to help you. Do not wilfully throw away your life when help and succour can be brought. Tell me what it is, and you will see that I will help you—I will, pardieu, though it should cost me more than you imagine.” The monk, finding his neighbour was willing to oblige him, after a great number of refusals and excuses, which, for the sake of brevity, I omit, said in a low voice.
“Since you desire that I should tell you, I will obey. The doctors all agreed that there was but one remedy for my complaint, and that was to put my finger into the secret place of a clean and honest woman, and keep it there for a certain length of time, and afterwards apply a certain ointment of which they gave me the receipt. You hear what the remedy is, and as I am by disposition naturally modest, I would rather endure and suffer all my ills than breathe a word to a living soul. You alone know of my sad lot, and that in spite of me.”