He called Traverse his friend, his deliverer, his son.
One day, as soon as he found himself strong enough to think of
pursuing his journey, he called his "son" into the room and
explained to him that he, Doctor Pierre St. Jean, was the proprietor
of a private insane asylum, very exclusive, very quiet, very
aristocratic, indeed, receiving none but patients of the highest
rank; that this retreat was situated on the wooded banks of a
charming lake in one of the most healthy and beautiful neighborhoods
of East Feliciana; that he had originally come down to the city to
engage the services of some young physician of talent as his
assistant, and finally, that he would be delighted, enraptured if
"his deliverer, his friend, his son," would accept the post.
Now Traverse particularly wished to study the various phases of
mental derangement, a department of his professional education that
had hitherto been opened to him only through books.
He explained this to his old friend, the French physician, who
immediately went off into ecstatic exclamations of joy as, "Good!
Great! Grand!" and "I shall now repay my good child! my dear son!
for his so excellent skill!"
The terms of the engagement were soon arranged, and Traverse
prepared to accompany his new friend to his "beautiful retreat," the
private madhouse. But Traverse wrote to his mother and to Clara in
Virginia, and also to Herbert Greyson in Mexico, to apprise them of
his good fortune.
Pages:
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313