Monte-Cristo, whose power and influence seemed to be absolutely boundless, presented himself on the following morning at the insane asylum where the Viscount Massetti was under treatment armed with a permit from the Papal Secretary of State, Cardinal Monti, for the Hebrew physician, Dr. Israel Absalom, to assume charge of the case of the noble patient. The director of the institution shrugged his shoulders when this permit was exhibited to him by M. Morrel, who had accompanied the Count for the purpose of introducing him to that official.
"Messieurs," said he, in very good French, "I am bound to respect this paper, but I solemnly protest against trusting the patient to this Hebrew charlatan and wash my hands of all responsibility in the premises!"
"M. the director," replied Monte-Cristo, in a dignified tone, "notwithstanding the repeated assertion of your physician who has been in charge of young Massetti ever since his arrival here that his malady was entirely curable, he has made but little if any progress with the sufferer, who to-day is still insane. Dr. Absalom, even though he be a charlatan as you maintain, but which, if you will pardon me, I must decline to admit, could not make a more conspicuous and complete failure!"
"M. the Count," said the director, coldly, evidently not relishing Monte-Cristo's bluntness, "all that the most advanced science can do has been done. Insanity is a disease slow and difficult of cure; time is required to produce results and it will be fully a year before the Viscount can, even under the most favorable circumstances, be thoroughly restored."
"Your experience entitles your opinion to respect," returned the Count, with equal coldness, "but still I cannot accept that opinion as final."
"As you please," said the official, haughtily. "After your Jewish physician, if he really be such, has vainly administered his nostrums and ineffectually mumbled his incantations, you will be glad enough to have the regular practitioner of the asylum resume the functions of which you now see fit so summarily to deprive him."
"Perhaps," answered the Count, smiling. "It is part of my creed never to despise science in whatever form it may come!"
The director bowed with satirical politeness.
At noon precisely Dr. Absalom arrived. He had discarded his gaudy and fantastic attire of the previous day and appeared in the ordinary street dress of a European. If he had seemed imposing to Maximilian at his house in the Ghetto, he looked still more imposing to him now, shorn as he was of all oriental accessories and depending for effect upon the wondrous intellectual aspect of his countenance alone. The only article of luxury he had about him was a massive gold-headed cane on which his years caused him to lean heavily.