"I live in the stable of the Count d'Artois, and my name is Jean
Paul Marat."
"In the stable!" cried the cobbler. "My faith, I had not supposed
you were a hostler or a coachman. It must be a funny sight, M.
Marat, to see you mounted upon a horse."
"You think that such a big toad as I does not belong there exactly.
Well, there you are right, brother Simon. My real business is not at
all with the horses, but with the men in the stable. I am the horse-
doctor, brother Simon, horse-doctor of the Count d'Artois; and I can
assure you that I am a tolerably skilful doctor, for I have yoked
together many a hostler and jockey whom the stable-keepers of the
dear Artois have favored with a liberal dispensation of their lash.
So, come this evening to me, not only that I may introduce you to
good society, but come if you are sick. I will restore you, and it
shall cost you nothing. I cure my brothers of the people without any
pay, for it is not the right thing for brothers to take money one of
another. So, brother Simon, I shall look for you this evening at the
stable; but now I must leave you, for my sick folks are expecting
me. Just one more word. If you come about seven o'clock to visit me,
the old witch that keeps the door will certainly tell you that I am
not at home. I will, therefore, give you the pass-word, which will
allow you to go in.
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