“I wouldn’t trust him with my dog,” he answered.

“I hate him involuntarily.”

“For my part, I despise him.”

“Perhaps we are unjust,” I remarked.

“Ha! to-morrow he may be as famous as Volange the actor.”

Monsieur de Calonne here motioned us to look at the surgeon, with a gesture that seemed to say:  “I think he’ll be very amusing.”

“Did you dream of a queen?” asked Beaumarchais.

“No, I dreamed of a People,” replied the surgeon, with an emphasis which made us laugh.  “I was then in charge of a patient whose leg I was to amputate the next day—­”

“Did you find the People in the leg of your patient?” asked Monsieur de Calonne.

“Precisely,” replied the surgeon.

“How amusing!” cried Madame de Genlis.

“I was somewhat surprised,” went on the speaker, without noticing the interruption, and sticking his hands into the gussets of his breeches, “to hear something talking to me within that leg.  I then found I had the singular faculty of entering the being of my patient.  Once within his skin I saw a marvellous number of little creatures which moved, and thought, and reasoned.  Some of them lived in the body of the man, others lived in his mind.  His ideas were things which were born, and grew, and died; they were sick and well, and gay, and sad; they all had special countenances; they fought with each other, or they embraced each other.  Some ideas sprang forth and went to live in the world of intellect.  I began to see that there were two worlds, two universes,—­the visible universe, and the invisible universe; that the earth had, like man, a body and a soul.  Nature illumined herself for me; I felt her immensity when I saw the oceans of beings who, in masses and in species, spread everywhere, making one sole and uniform animated Matter, from the stone of the earth to God.  Magnificent vision!  In short, I found a universe within my patient.  When I inserted my knife into his gangrened leg I cut into a million of those little beings.  Oh! you laugh, madame; let me tell you that you are eaten up by such creatures—­”

“No personalities!” interposed Monsieur de Calonne.  “Speak for yourself and for your patient.”

“My patient, frightened by the cries of his animalcules, wanted to stop the operation; but I went on regardless of his remonstrances; telling him that those evil animals were already gnawing at his bones.  He made a sudden movement of resistance, not understanding that what I did was for his good, and my knife slipped aside, entered my own body, and—­”

“He is stupid,” said Lavoisier.

“No, he is drunk,” replied Beaumarchais.

“But, gentlemen, my dream has a meaning,” cried the surgeon.

“Oh! oh!” exclaimed Bodard, waking up; “my leg is asleep!”

“Your animalcules must be dead,” said his wife.

“That man has a vocation,” announced my little neighbor, who had stared imperturbably at the surgeon while he was speaking.