Holding a hand to his jaw, he asked himself what should be done.  The dentists who treated him were rich merchants whom one could not see at any time; one had to make an appointment.  He told himself that this would never do, that he could not endure it.  He decided to patronize the first one he could find, to hasten to a popular tooth-extractor, one of those iron-fisted men who, if they are ignorant of the useless art of dressing decaying teeth and of filling holes, know how to pull the stubbornest stump with an unequalled rapidity.  There, the office is opened early in the morning and one is not required to wait.  Seven o’clock struck at last.  He hurried out, and recollecting the name of a mechanic who called himself a dentist and dwelt in the corner of a quay, he rushed through the streets, holding his cheek with his hands repressing the tears.

Arrived in front of the house, recognizable by an immense wooden signboard where the name of “Gatonax” sprawled in enormous pumpkin-colored letters, and by two little glass cases where false teeth were carefully set in rose-colored wax, he gasped for breath.  He perspired profusely.  A horrible fear shook him, a trembling crept under his skin; suddenly a calm ensued, the suffering ceased, the tooth stopped paining.

He remained, stupefied, on the sidewalk; finally, he stiffened against the anguish, mounted the dim stairway, running up four steps at a time to the fourth story.  He found himself in front of a door where an enamel plate repeated, inscribed in sky-blue lettering, the name on the signboard.  He rang the bell and then, terrified by the great red spittles which he noticed on the steps, he faced about, resolved to endure his toothache all his life.  At that moment an excruciating cry pierced the partitions, filled the cage of the doorway and glued him to the spot with horror, at the same time that a door was opened and an old woman invited him to enter.

His feeling of shame quickly changed to fear.  He was ushered into a dining room.  Another door creaked and in entered a terrible grenadier dressed in a frock-coat and black trousers.  Des Esseintes followed him to another room.

From this instant, his sensations were confused.  He vaguely remembered having sunk into a chair opposite a window, having murmured, as he put a finger to his tooth:  “It has already been filled and I am afraid nothing more can be done with it.”

The man immediately suppressed these explanations by introducing an enormous index finger into his mouth.  Muttering beneath his waxed fang-like moustaches, he took an instrument from the table.

Then the play began.  Clinging to the arms of his seat, Des Esseintes felt a cold sensation in his cheek, and began to suffer unheard agonies.  Then he beheld stars.  He stamped his feet frantically and bleated like a sheep about to be slaughtered.