e came up to me and began to ask me questions, but I told him that
with my confessor and my doctor I would only speak apart. The doctor told
Lawrence to leave the room, but on the refusal of that Argus to do so, he
went away saying that I was dangerously ill, possibly unto death. For
this I hoped, for my life as it had become was no longer my chiefest
good. I was somewhat glad also to think that my pitiless persecutors
might, on hearing of my condition, be forced to reflect on the cruelty of
the treatment to which they had subjected me.

Four hours afterwards I heard the noise of bolts once more, and the
doctor came in holding the candle himself. Lawrence remained outside. I
had become so weak that I experienced a grateful restfulness. Kindly
nature does not suffer a man seriously ill to feel weary. I was delighted
to hear that my infamous turnkey was outside, for since his explanation
of the iron collar I had looked an him with loathing.

In a quarter of an hour I had told the doctor all.

"If we want to get well," said he, "we must not be melancholy."

"Write me the prescription, and take it to the only apothecary who can
make it up. M. Cavalli is the bad doctor who exhibited 'The Heart of
Jesus,' and 'Tire Mystical City.'"

"Those two preparations are quite capable of having brought on the fever
and the haemorrhoids. I will not forsake you"

After making me a large jug of lemonade, and telling the to drink
frequently, he went away. I slept soundly, dreaming fantastic dreams.

In he morning the doctor came again with Lawrence and a surgeon, who bled
me. The doctor left me some medicine which he told me to take in the
evening, and a bottle of soap. "I have obtained leave," said he, "for you
to move into the garret where the heat is less, and the air better than
here."

"I decline the favour, as I abominate the rats, which you know nothing
about, and which would certainly get into my bed."

"What a pity! I told M. Cavalli that he had almost killed you with his
books, and he has commissioned me to take them back, and to give you
Boethius; and here it is."

"I am much obliged to you. I like it better than Seneca, and I am sure it
will do me good."

"I am leaving you a very necessary instrument, and some barley water for
you to refresh yourself with."

He visited me four times, and pulled me through; my constitution did the
rest, and my appetite returned. At the beginning of September I found
myself, on the w