"I told no lie, for I know that he may possibly be cured."

"Then you lied just now?"

"Not at all, for lie will die to-morrow."

"It seems to me that your reasoning is a little Jesuitical."

"No, it is not. My duty was to prolong my patient's life and to spare him
a sentence which would most certainly have shortened it, possibly by
several hours; besides, it is not an absolute impossibility that he
should recover, therefore I did not lie when I told him that he might
recover, nor did I lie just now when I gave it as my opinion (the result
of my experience) that he would die to-morrow. I would certainly wager a
million to one that he will die to-morrow, but I would not wager my
life."

"You are right, and yet for all that you deceived the poor man; for his
intention in asking you the question was not to be told a commonplace
which he knew as well as you, but to learn your true opinion as to his
life or death. But again I agree with you that as his physician you were
quite right not to shorten his few remaining hours by telling him the
terrible truth."

After a fortnight I left Schwetzingen, leaving some of my belongings
under the care of Veraci the poet, telling him I would call for them some
day; but I never came, and after a lapse of thirty-one years Veraci keeps
them still. He was one of the strangest poets I have ever met. He
affected eccentricity to make himself notorious, and opposed the great
Metastasio in everything, writing unwieldy verses which he said gave more