three years over an extensive work, with which perhaps you may some

day occupy yourselves," Raphael replied.
The great doctor shook his head, and so displayed his satisfaction. "I

was sure of it," he seemed to say to himself. He was the illustrious
Brisset, the successor of Cabanis and Bichat, head of the Organic

School, a doctor popular with believers in material and positive
science, who see in man a complete individual, subject solely to the

laws of his own particular organization; and who consider that his
normal condition and abnormal states of disease can both be traced to

obvious causes.
After this reply, Brisset looked, without speaking, at a middle-sized

person, whose darkly flushed countenance and glowing eyes seemed to
belong to some antique satyr; and who, leaning his back against the

corner of the embrasure, was studying Raphael, without saying a word.
Doctor Cameristus, a man of creeds and enthusiasms, the head of the

"Vitalists," a romanticchampion of the esoteric doctrines of Van
Helmont, discerned a lofty informing principle in human life, a

mysterious and inexplicablephenomenon which mocks at the scalpel,
deceives the surgeon, eludes the drugs of the pharmacopoeia, the

formulae of algebra, the demonstrations of anatomy, and derides all
our efforts; a sort of invisible, intangible flame, which, obeying

some divinely appointed law, will often linger on in a body in our
opinion devoted to death, while it takes flight from an organization

well fitted for prolonged existence.
A bitter smile hovered upon the lips of the third doctor, Maugredie, a

man of acknowledged ability, but a Pyrrhonist and a scoffer, with the
scalpel for his one article of faith. He would consider, as a

concession to Brisset, that a man who, as a matter of fact, was
perfectly well was dead, and recognize with Cameristus that a man

might be living on after his apparent demise. He found something
sensible in every theory, and embraced none of them, claiming that the

best of all systems of medicine was to have none at all, and to stick
to facts. This Panurge of the Clinical Schools, the king of observers,

the great investigator, a great sceptic, the man of desperate
expedients, was scrutinizing the Magic Skin.

"I should very much like to be a witness of the coincidence of its
retrenchment with your wish," he said to the Marquis.

"Where is the use?" cried Brisset.
"Where is the use?" echoed Cameristus.

"Ah, you are both of the same mind," replied Maugredie.
"The contraction is perfectly simple," Brisset went on.

"It is supernatural," remarked Cameristus.
"In short," Maugredie made answer, with affected" target="_blank" title="a.做作的；假装的">affectedsolemnity, and

handing the piece of skin to Raphael as he spoke, "the shriveling
faculty of the skin is a fact inexplicable, and yet quite natural,

which, ever since the world began, has been the despair of medicine
and of pretty women."

All Valentin's observation could discover no trace of a feeling for
his troubles in any of the three doctors. The three received every

answer in silence, scanned him unconcernedly, and interrogated him
unsympathetically. Politeness did not conceal their indifference;

whether deliberation or certainty was the cause, their words at any
rate came so seldom and so languidly, that at times Raphael thought

that their attention was wandering. From time to time Brisset, the
sole speaker, remarked, "Good! just so!" as Bianchon pointed out the

existence of each desperatesymptom. Cameristus seemed to be deep in
meditation; Maugredie looked like a comic author, studying two queer

characters with a view to reproducing them faithfully upon the stage.
There was deep, unconcealed distress, and grave compassion in Horace

Bianchon's face. He had been a doctor for too short a time to be
untouched by suffering and unmoved by a deathbed; he had not learned

to keep back the sympathetic tears that obscure a man's clear vision
and prevent him from seizing like the general of an army, upon the

auspicious moment for victory, in utter disregard of the groans of
dying men.

After spending about half an hour over taking in some sort the measure
of the patient and the complaint, much as a tailor measures a young

man for a coat when he orders his weddingoutfit, the authorities
uttered several commonplaces, and even talked of politics. Then they

decided to go into Raphael's study to exchange their ideas and frame
their verdict.

"May I not be present during the discussion, gentlemen?" Valentin had
asked them, but Brisset and Maugredie protested against this, and, in

spite of their patient's entreaties, declined altogether to deliberate
in his presence.

Raphael gave way before their custom, thinking that he could slip into
a passage adjoining, whence he could easily overhear the medical

conference in which the three professors were about to engage.
"Permit me, gentlemen," said Brisset, as they entered, "to give you my

own opinion at once. I neither wish to force it upon you nor to have
it discussed. In the first place, it is unbiased, concise, and based

on an exact similarity that exists between one of my own patients and
the subject that we have been called in to examine; and, moreover, I

am expected at my hospital. The importance of the case that demands my
presence there will excuse me for speaking the first word. The subject

with which we are concerned has been exhausted in an equal degree by
intellectual labors--what did he set about, Horace?" he asked of the

young doctor.
"A 'Theory of the Will,' "

"The devil! but that's a big subject. He is exhausted, I say, by too
much brain-work, by irregular courses, and by the repeated use of too

powerful stimulants. Violent exertion of body and mind has demoralized
the whole system. It is easy, gentlemen, to recognize in the symptoms

of the face and body generally intenseirritation of the stomach, an
affection of the great sympathetic nerve, acute sensibility of the

epigastric region, and contraction of the right and left
hypochondriac. You have noticed, too, the large size and prominence of

the liver. M. Bianchon has, besides, constantly watched the patient,
and he tells us that digestion is troublesome and difficult. Strictly

speaking, there is no stomach left, and so the man has disappeared.
The brain is atrophied because the man digests no longer. The

progressive deterioration wrought in the epigastric region, the seat
of vitality, has vitiated the whole system. Thence, by continuous

fevered vibrations, the disorder has reached the brain by means of the
nervous plexus, hence the excessiveirritation in that organ. There is

monomania. The patient is burdened with a fixed idea. That piece of
skin really contracts, to his way of thinking; very likely it always

has been as we have seen it; but whether it contracts or no, that
thing is for him just like the fly that some Grand Vizier or other had

on his nose. If you put leeches at once on the epigastrium, and reduce
the irritation in that part, which is the very seat of man's life, and

if you diet the patient, the monomania will leave him. I will say no
more to Dr. Bianchon; he should be able to grasp the whole treatment

as well as the details. There may be, perhaps, some complication of
the disease--the bronchial tubes, possibly, may be also inflamed; but

I believe that treatment for the intestinal organs is very much more
important and necessary, and more urgently required than for the

lungs. Persistent study of abstract matters, and certain violent
passions, have induced serious disorders in that vital mechanism.

However, we are in time to set these conditions right. Nothing is too
seriously affected" target="_blank" title="a.做作的；假装的">affected. You will easily get your friend round again," he

remarked to Bianchon.
"Our learnedcolleague is taking the effect for the cause," Cameristus

replied. "Yes, the changes that he has observed so keenly certainly
exist in the patient; but it is not the stomach that, by degrees, has

set up nervous action in the system, and so affected" target="_blank" title="a.做作的；假装的">affected the brain, like a
hole in a window pane spreading cracks round about it. It took a blow

of some kind to make a hole in the window; who gave the blow? Do we
know that? Have we investigated the patient's case sufficiently? Are

we acquainted with all the events of his life?
"The vital principle, gentlemen," he continued, "the Archeus of Van

Helmont, is affected" target="_blank" title="a.做作的；假装的">affected in his case--the very essence and centre of life
is attacked. The divine spark, the transitory intelligence which holds

the organism together, which is the source of the will, the
inspiration of life, has ceased to regulate the daily phenomena of the

mechanism and the functions of every organ; thence arise all the
complications which my learnedcolleague has so thoroughly

appreciated. The epigastric region does not affect the brain but the
brain affects the epigastric region. No," he went on, vigorously

slapping his chest, "no, I am not a stomach in the form of a man. No,
everything does not lie there. I do not feel that I have the courage

to say that if the epigastric region is in good order, everything else
is in a like condition----

"We cannot trace," he went on more mildly, "to one physical cause the
serious disturbances that supervene in this or that subject which has

been dangerously attacked, nor submit them to a uniform treatment. No