I thought it had been done, but I found
out afterwards my English _confreres_ were right. It hasn't. I've worked
a miracle in surgery, and by my publication will make you as the
subject of it famous for ever. And here you are trying to die and ruin
everything. I ask you--have you no human feelings left?"
At the conclusion of these lectures I would sigh and laugh, and stretch
out a thin hand. He shook it always with a humorous grumpiness which did
me more good than the prospect of acquiring fame in the annals of the
_Ecole de Medicine_.
Here am I, however, cured. I have thrown away the stick with which I
first began to limp about the garden, and I discourage Lola and Rogers
in their efforts to treat me as an invalid. Like the doctor, I have
been longing to escape from "this hole of an Algiers" and its painful
associations, and, when I was able to leave my room, it occurred to me
that the sooner I regained my strength the sooner should I be able to do
so. Since then my recovery has been rapid. The doctor is delighted, and
slaps me on the back, and points me out to Lola and the manager and the
concierge and the hoary old sinner of an Arab who displays his daggers,
and trays, and embroideries on the terrace, as a living wonder.
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