own sake, and for his own. If you look up my thesis, you will see that I
dedicated it to him.

"During the last year of my residence as house surgeon I earned enough
to repay all I owed to this worthy Auvergnat by buying him a barrel and
a horse. He was furious with rage at learning that I had been depriving
myself of spending my money, and yet he was delighted to see his wishes
fulfilled; he laughed and scolded, he looked at his barrel, at his
horse, and wiped away a tear, as he said, 'It is too bad. What a
splendid barrel! You really ought not. Why, that horse is as strong as
an Auvergnat!'

"I never saw a more touching scene. Bourgeat insisted on buying for me
the case of instruments mounted in silver which you have seen in my
room, and which is to me the most precious thing there. Though enchanted
with my first success, never did the least sign, the least word, escape
him which might imply, 'This man owes all to me!' And yet, but for him,
I should have died of want; he had eaten bread rubbed with garlic that I
might have coffee to enable me to sit up at night.

"He fell ill. As you may suppose, I passed my nights by his bedside, and
the first time I pulled him through; but two years after he had a
relapse; in spite of the utmost care, in spite of the greatest exertions
of science, he succumbed. No king was ever nursed as he was. Yes,
Bianchon, to snatch that man from death I tried unheard-of things. I
wanted him to live long enough to show him his work accomplished, to
realize all his hopes, to give expression to the only need for gratitude
that ever filled my heart, to quench a fire that burns in me to this
day.