“He is a fraud!” thought Fernet. “He knows nothing!”
“Ah,” said the doctor, putting a sly finger against his sharp nose, “our friend here has a nervous collapse. He should have a nurse!”
“A nurse!” exclaimed Minetti, with indignation. “And, pray, what do you call me? Do you not think that—”
“Well, we shall see! we shall see!” replied the doctor, rubbing his hands together. “But he will need all sorts of delicacies and—”
Minetti moistened his lips with sleek satisfaction. “You cannot name a dish that I am not able to prepare.”
“How about a custard? To-day he should eat something light.”
“A custard is simplicity itself,” answered the hunchback, and he cracked his fingers.
Minetti went out with the doctor, and came back shortly, carrying eggs and a bottle of vanilla extract and sugar. Fernet lay helpless, watching him bustling about. Finally the delicacy was made and set away in a pan of water to cool. At noon Minetti brought a blue bowl filled with custard to the bedside. It looked inviting, but Fernet shook his head.
“I am not hungry,” he lied.
The hunchback set the bowl down on a chair so that Fernet gazed upon it all day. The hunchback did not leave the room. He sat before the open window, reading from a thick book. Toward nightfall Fernet said to him: