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scalded almost to death by upsetting a kettle of
boiling water.
We climbed up to his flat at the top of the
corner house of Piazza Mignanelli. He begged
me to wait in his salon and appeared a minute
later with a monkey in his arms, a huge baboon
all wrapped up in bandages.
“I am afraid he is very bad,” said the old
doctor in quite a different voice, tenderly caressing
the emaciated face of his monkey. “I do not
know what I shall do if he dies, he is my only
friend. I have brought him up on the bottle
since he was a baby, his dear mother died when
she gave birth to him. She was almost as big
as a gorilla, you never saw such a darling, she
was quite human. I do not mind in the least
cutting my fellow creatures to pieces, I rather
like it, but I have no more courage left in me to
dress his scalded little body, he suffers so horribly
when I try to disinfect his wounds that I cannot
stand it any longer. I am sure you like animals,
will you take him in hand?”
We unwrapped the bandages soaked with blood
and pus, it was a pitiful sight, his whole body
was one terrible wound.
“He knows you are a friend or he would
not sit as still as he does, he never allows
anybody but me to touch him. He knows
everything, he has more brains than all the foreign
doctors in Rome put together. He has eaten
nothing for four days,” he went on, with a tender
expression in his blood-shot eyes. “Billy, my
son, won’t you oblige your papa by trying this
fig?”
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