Those
little old creatures who have the appearance of having already
lived, and who have kept the stigmata of all out infirmities, of
all our decay. They are the victims of fathers who have married,
being ignorant of what you know--things which I should like to go
and cry out in the public places."
The doctor paused, and then in a solemn voice continued: "I have
told you all, without exaggeration. Think it over. Consider the
pros and cons; sum up the possible misfortunes and the certain
miseries. But disregard yourself, and consider that there are in
one side of the scales the misfortunes of others, and in the
other your own. Take care that you are just."
George was at last overcome. "Very well," he said, "I give way.
I won't get married. I will invent some excuse; I will get a
delay of six months. More than that, I cannot do."
The doctor exclaimed, "I need three years--I need four years!"
"No, Doctor!" persisted George. "You can cure me in less time
than that."
The other answered, "No! No! No!"
George caught him by the hand, imploringly. "Yes! Science in
all powerful!"
"Science is not God," was the reply. "There are no longer any
miracles."
"If only you wanted to do it!" cried the young man, hysterically.
"You are a learned man; seek, invent, find something! Try some
new plan with me; give me double the dose, ten times the does;
make me suffer. I give myself up to you; I will endure
everything--I swear it! There ought to be some way to cure me
within six months.
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