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Humors out of balance
“We’re not exactly sure about that, but when these
humors are out of balance, men and women both get
sick,” he answered.
“My mother sure spews a lot of bile anyway,” a
Basque fellow commented.
“She must be sick,” Hache supposed
“Not really, she’s as fit as a fiddle.”
“In any case, I can’t make a diagnosis from a
distance. Fortunately, we have advanced far beyond
Galenus and we conduct scientific studies by cutting
open human bodies, among other things. So, if your
mother is nearby…” The blood drained from the
Basque’s face when he heard his teacher’s
serious-sounding suggestion.
“You mean you cut open live people too?” he asked.
“Certainly, but that happens only rarely. We
primarily study cadavers and make elaborate drawings
of them. Due to these studies we have gained
innumerable insights and many people can be cured of
present-day diseases.”
“What methods currently exist to cure diseases?”
Michel now asked.
“For instance, with medications, that are processed
into liquids, powders or tablets,” the lecturer
answered. “Unfortunately, there are many quacks,
herbalists and witches who pose as pharmacists.
Another very effective method is phlebotomy or
bloodletting, which allows the disease to drain out
of the body; this is my specialty.” Question period
came to an end and there was an afternoon break.
After this, Hache lectured uninterruptedly until
sundown. In the evening, after a cheap meal in the
cafeteria, Michel and his classmates left the
university building to go home.
“Feel like walking through town?” someone who caught
up to him at the Notre-Dame-des-Tables church called.
It was François Rabelais, the student with the
lively eyes who sat next to him in class. It sounded
like a good idea to Michel and they walked through
the town and quickly became friends. François turned
out to be a masterful story teller who wore his
heart on his sleeve. Everywhere they went he named
everything in such a frank and unusual way that many
would have blushed just listening to it. The rebel
literally had no qualms about discussing anything:
he talked about heretical matters, painful emotions
or body parts that people usually avoided mentioning.
And when he found that Michel responded too
seriously to something, he suddenly acted like a
little child or became surprisingly obscene.
François, for his part, was deeply impressed by
Michel’s enormous amount of knowledge. The student
from Saint Rémy seemed like a walking encyclopedia.
In a pub, Michel told about his Jewish background,
his education from his grandfather and, finally,
about the interrupted studies in Avignon.
“Then we’re both in the same boat,” said François.
“What boat?” his classmate asked, surprised.
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