be able to say, 'Operibus credite'. That should be your motto."

Tadini was vexed with my incredulity, and shewed me a number of
testimonials, which I might possibly have read, if the first which met my
eye had not been from a lady who protested to all and singular that M.
Tadini had cured her of amaurosis. At this I laughed in his face and told
him to leave me alone.

A few days after I found myself dining with him at the house of the lady
with the cataract. She had almost made up her mind to submit to the
operation, but as the rascal had mentioned my name, she wanted me to be
present at a dispute between Tadini and the other oculist who came in
with the dessert.

I disposed myself to listen to the arguments of the two rival professors
with considerable pleasure. The Warsaw oculist was a German, but spoke
French very well; however, he attacked Tadini in Latin. The Italian
checked him by saying that their discourse must be conducted in a
language intelligible to the lady, and I agreed with him. It was plain
that Tadini did not know a word of Latin.

The German oculist began by admitting that after the operation for
cataract there was no chance of the disease returning, but that there was
a considerable risk of the crystalline humour evaporating, and the
patient being left in a state of total blindness.

Tadini, instead of denying this statement (which was inaccurate), had the
folly to take a little box out of his pocket. It contained a number of
minute round crystals.