Читать книгу Jewel sowers. A novel онлайн

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But Rosalie neither shook her head nor nodded. She only looked up at him with no other expression in her eyes except dumb entreaty.

“Come to the light,” said he, “and try to look less ghostly. After all, if you can’t be cured you can’t. You’re brave enough to stand that, aren’t you?”

Again she nodded, still looking at him.

He pushed the shade of the lamp up. “Now open your mouth,” he said.

Obediently Rosalie did as she was told.

“Why, you’ve got a tongue!” said he, bending his brows, and stooping down to her. “Can’t you move it?”

But Rosalie could not. It was complete paralysis of the muscles evidently.

“Come with me, and I’ll see what I can do.”

He led her through the other door into another room. The walls of this place were lined with chests and cupboards with glass fronts, containing curious instruments. In the centre was a long table. The room was also fitted up with chairs such as dentists use, and a marble washing basin fitted with water pipes, hot and cold.

Yet when the light was turned on the general effect was cheerful. Rosalie found it so, at any rate, for renewed hope was springing in her heart. She sat down upon the chair he drew for her, and watched him whilst he went to the cupboard and brought out something shaped like a very long darning needle. It was thick at one end, very fine and pointed at the other. Then from another shelf containing flasks of glass polished and cut he took a liquid shining like silver, and poured some into a tiny crucible. With these he came back to her and placed them on the table. Then he looked at her, smiling.