"My uncle has accepted me!" he told her with trembling enthusiasm. "I am to be one of his pupils in the summer class at the University of Paris. A foot messenger brought the letter today. I am to leave by saddle at dawn tomorrow for Saint-Vith. There I will meet other students with whom I will travel to Paris."
Disappointment spread on Mina's face until she hid it in his tunic.
"I am glad for you," she said. "But sorry for myself. How soon will you return?"
Christian took her in his arms. "That I cannot tell," he replied softly. "It depends, perhaps, on how well Henri Planquette is pleased with me."
"In that case, Christian, I hope you are very stupid!"
Late the following August, in a gray-stoned room whose one side was an arcade opening into a court, a small but solid old man was the central figure among a handful of younger men seated on rough stools and benches. Wearing a hoodlike gugel of soft leather which fell loosely behind his head, the old man was straight and alert for his age. His face, small and square, bearded with a thick curly mat through which he habitually ran his bony fingers, was bright, his eyes, snappy. Dr. Henri Planquette was addressing his students at the University of Paris. One of them had just asked for "the most modern remedy for the stone."
Dr. Planquette replied that there was nothing known better than the method of the late John Gaddesden, whose manuscript Rosa Anglic[1] at the Montpellier Medical School he had had the good fortune to peruse. "The prescription, he said, "calls for the collection of some of those beetles found in the dung of oxen; also some crickets. Of the latter, cut off their heads and wings. Deposit the beetles and crickets in a vessel of oil and boil them. Pound the residue and apply to the ailing part.
Several of the students assiduously were scratching notes.
"If there arc no more questions for discussion," said the teacher, "this will complete our studies for the day."
But another student arose, one with an uncommonly earnest face.
"So you, too, Christian Nohl, must tax your old uncle on an unpleasantly hot day in order to cram one mite more of knowledge into your head! Well, let us hear."
"I am eager to know if you entertain any theory with regard to this new plague which is spreading out of the Empire from the east."
"You mean the dancers?"
"Yes, the dancers."
All students were attemive, for stories about this new plague were disturbing everyone. Furrowing his brow. Dr. Planquette said: "I am of the opinion, and it is a very strong one, that this is not entirely a medical matter. I am prone to delegate it to one of the sub-sciences beneath the dignity of medicine...."
An anaemic youth of Slavic accent, named Hynek Zerotin, who was habitually aggressive, interrupted:
"You don't think it might be a nervous disorder of some kind?"
Dr. Planquette shook his head. "Early in the year I was visiting Dresden," he said, "Where through a remarkable chance I had a most unusual encounter. But I shall not go into it at this time."
"But Doctor," insisted Hynek impetu-
- ↑ First printed in 1492. Gaddesden lived from 1280 to 1341.
