Chapter 2.XXX.

How Epistemon, who had his head cut off, was finely healed by Panurge, and of the news which he brought from the devils, and of the damned people in hell.

This gigantal victory being ended, Pantagruel withdrew himself to the place of the flagons, and called for Panurge and the rest, who came unto him safe and sound, except Eusthenes, whom one of the giants had scratched a little in the face whilst he was about the cutting of his throat, and Epistemon, who appeared not at all.  Whereat Pantagruel was so aggrieved that he would have killed himself.  But Panurge said unto him, Nay, sir, stay a while, and we will search for him amongst the dead, and find out the truth of all.  Thus as they went seeking after him, they found him stark dead, with his head between his arms all bloody.  Then Eusthenes cried out, Ah, cruel death! hast thou taken from me the perfectest amongst men?  At which words Pantagruel rose up with the greatest grief that ever any man did see, and said to Panurge, Ha, my friend! the prophecy of your two glasses and the javelin staff was a great deal too deceitful.  But Panurge answered, My dear bullies all, weep not one drop more, for, he being yet all hot, I will make him as sound as ever he was.  In saying this, he took the head and held it warm foregainst his codpiece, that the wind might not enter into it.  Eusthenes and Carpalin carried the body to the place where they had banqueted, not out of any hope that ever he would recover, but that Pantagruel might see it.

Nevertheless Panurge gave him very good comfort, saying, If I do not heal him, I will be content to lose my head, which is a fool’s wager.  Leave off, therefore, crying, and help me.  Then cleansed he his neck very well with pure white wine, and, after that, took his head, and into it synapised some powder of diamerdis, which he always carried about him in one of his bags.  Afterwards he anointed it with I know not what ointment, and set it on very just, vein against vein, sinew against sinew, and spondyle against spondyle, that he might not be wry-necked—­for such people he mortally hated.  This done, he gave it round about some fifteen or sixteen stitches with a needle that it might not fall off again; then, on all sides and everywhere, he put a little ointment on it, which he called resuscitative.

Suddenly Epistemon began to breathe, then opened his eyes, yawned, sneezed, and afterwards let a great household fart.  Whereupon Panurge said, Now, certainly, he is healed,—­and therefore gave him to drink a large full glass of strong white wine, with a sugared toast.  In this fashion was Epistemon finely healed, only that he was somewhat hoarse for above three weeks together, and had a dry cough of which he could not be rid but by the force of continual drinking.  And now he began to speak, and said that he had seen the devil, had spoken with Lucifer