His directions were all but too well obeyed. The bathing tub was
quickly brought into the chamber and, filled with water as hot as
the nurse could bear her hand in then the invalid was hastily
invested in a slight bathing gown and lifted by two servants and
laid in the hot bath.
"Now, bring quickly, water boiling," said the little, old woman,
imperatively. And when a large copper kettleful was forthcoming, she
took it and began to pour a stream of hissing, bubbling water in at
the foot of the bath.
The skin of the torpid patient had been reddening for a few seconds,
so as to prove that its sensibility was returning, and now when the
stream from the kettle began to mix with the already very hot bath,
and to raise its temperature almost to boiling, suddenly there was
heard a cry from the bath, and the patient, with the agility of
youth and health, skipped out of the tub and into his bed, kicking
vigorously and exclaiming:
"Brigands! Assassins! You have scalded my legs to death!"
"Glory be to the Lord, he's saved!" cried one of the waiters, a
devout Irishman.
"Ciel! he speaks! he moves! he lives! mon frere!" cried the little
Frenchwoman, going to him.
"Ah, murderers! bandits! you've scalded me to death! I'll have you
all before the commissaire!"
"He scolds! he threatens! he swears! he gets well! mon frere!" cried
the old woman, busying herself to change his clothes and put on his
flannel nightgown.
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