One Frenchman experiments on
two hundred monkeys to disprove my theory. Another sacrifices 36
pounds--three hundred dogs at three francs apiece--to upset the monkey
experiments. A third proves them to be both wrong by a single
experiment in which he gets the temperature of a camel's liver 60
degrees below zero. And now comes this cursed Italian who has ruined
me. He has a government grant to buy animals with, besides the run of
the largest hospital in Italy. (With desperate resolution) But I won't
be beaten by any Italian. I'll go to Italy myself. I'll re-discover my
disease: I know it exists; I feel it; and I'll prove it if I have to
experiment on every mortal animal that's got a liver at all. (He folds
his arms and breathes hard at them.)
CRAVEN (his sense of injury growing upon him). Am I to understand,
Paramore, that you took it on yourself to pass sentence of death--yes,
of Death--on me, on the strength of three dogs and an infernal monkey?
PARAMORE (utterly contemptuous of Craven's narrow personal view of the
matter). Yes. That was all I could get a license for.
CRAVEN. Now upon my soul, Paramore, I'm vexed at this.
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