Nineteenth Century Medical Guide

Chapter 481, Section 477: The Borderline

It was almost noon when four horses carrying three men and a large bag of luggage were traveling along a mountain path.

It's very close to the bay, and you can always hear the waves crashing against the rocks. Looking beyond the tree branches, you can see the azure waters in the distance and smell the fishy odor.

"Casper, are we on the right path?" the young man in the middle asked, looking repeatedly at the trees on both sides.

"There are three roads south of Saint-Jean-Drüz. Don't worry, this one is by the sea and has a great view. You won't go wrong."

The man walking ahead, named Casper, leisurely lit a cigarette. After taking a couple of puffs, he suddenly remembered something from the past, turned around, and said with a smile, "However, the security in the south is not as good as in France, so you, as someone who has been there, certainly have reason to worry."

"Someone who has been here?"

"Ah."

"Oh, you mean the thing about being kidnapped?"

The young man lowered his hat brim to block the sun and also to hide his embarrassment: "So many years have passed, why do you still remember? And that's not what I meant."

The man behind them, who looked more robust, chuckled at him, finding the kidnapping both in its process and its outcome too bizarre. He thought it might turn into a brilliant comedy if playwrights were to adapt it.

Add to that the buzz surrounding the person's identity, and it's possible that what caused a frenzy in the newly built theater in Paris six months ago wouldn't have been "Coppélia."

Seeing that the topic was getting more and more off track, the man became serious again: "Laugh as you may, but you still have to be careful. There are all kinds of people on this road. It's a no-man's land, so it's not safe at all. Besides, the mountain road is very difficult to travel. My butt is sore from all the bumps."

“Your Excellency Viscount Bergett, and our great surgeon, the jewel of Austria, Count Kavi, you are both overthinking it.”

Casper, who was walking ahead, took off his hat and brushed off the dust and a few leaves from the brim: "If there really were robbers, Jonah, who went out early this morning, would have come back to report. It's not our place to worry."

"That's true."

Bergett glanced at the luggage trailing behind him: "He's a cavalry captain recommended by Count Morasso, after all, but this road is going to be tough."

“Speaking of Coppélia, I saw their Austrian premiere in Vienna last month,” Casper said. “I haven’t seen such a brilliant performance in a long time; even Beatrice, principal dancer of the Vienna Ballet, couldn’t quite match it.”

“I think that 17-year-old girl is a bit too inexperienced. Beatrice is definitely stronger.” Beggart shook his head.

"But Coppélia was so successful that the girl's toes seemed to be writing poetry."

"This is thanks to the screenwriter and choreographer, especially choreographer Saint-Léon, whose contribution was the greatest."

"."

The three continued westward, passing an abandoned church. The sound of the waves faded into the distance. They walked south for more than an hour until they heard the sound of water again, finally reaching their destination for a midday rest.

Before me lies a clear stream, the Bidasoa River.

This clear, Basque river divides the land into two long, narrow peninsulas: the one under the three people belongs to France, while the other side, across the bridge, belongs to Spain.

Jonah, whom Casper mentioned earlier, is waiting on the shore.

Jonah had dark skin, was a full head shorter than Kawi, and looked very thin. Standing there with a simple smile, he looked no different from an ordinary farmer working in the fields.

When he first joined Morasso's unit, his honest demeanor earned him many nicknames, with many calling him Black Dog or Skinny Dog. But after fighting several fierce battles, the "dog" in his nickname was replaced.

He had been leaning against the big tree, and when he saw them arrive, he got up and went to greet them.

Casper glanced at the small wooden bridge ahead, somewhat puzzled: "Didn't I tell you to scout ahead and find us a good place to stay once we get to San Sebastián? Why are we stopping here?"

“We’ve run into some trouble.” Jonah pointed to the pavilion on the bridge. “The soldiers guarding the border said that there are bandits on the mountain road ahead, and it’s very unsafe. They told us to stay in Airon for the time being.”

"Airang?"

“It’s a small village right next to the border. You can get there by walking a short distance north from here without crossing a bridge.”

At this point, the three of them looked at Kavi in ​​unison.

Cavi was invited to Madrid, and he also chose the route, so naturally he had the final say: "Staying for one night is fine, but I'm afraid that if I stay, it will never end, like when I went to Egypt last time."

As fate would have it, the border officer, speaking in strange French with a Spanish accent, gestured for a long time before they finally understood that how long they could stay in Airán depended entirely on luck and the efficiency of the Spanish mounted police.

Uncertain, so very uncertain.

Since embarking on his journey to Madrid, Kavi's plans have been constantly changing, filled with uncertainty. There are reasons related to the weather, transportation, and people. It's the first time he's had to change his itinerary because of bandits—a unique aspect of Southern Europe.

"Is this the only way to San Sebastián?"

"Yes, this is the caravan route, and it's fairly open and easy to travel. It's not impossible to change routes, but the horses definitely can't get on."

Looking at their two large suitcases, this road was clearly not suitable for them.

“I didn’t recommend this route in the first place; it’s tiring and unsafe,” Bergert muttered to himself. “It would have been much better to take the train directly from Vienna to Madrid and see the scenery along the way.”

Kavi glanced back at him: "You insisted on coming along, I didn't force you."

"I am simply stating objective facts."

“Objective facts,” Kavi cleared his throat, “According to objective facts, you’re not qualified to look at my notebook. It seems the notebook isn’t suitable to be kept by you.”

notes
Beggart was startled and instinctively clutched his pocket, saying nothing more.

The notes mentioned are the postoperative summary of Bertha's vascular transplantation surgery. They include a simplified surgical field diagram, operation techniques, treatment details, and even detailed descriptions of possible complications in the latter half of the record.

It is the only hand-drawn sketchbook of this surgery, and also the most complete hand-drawn sketchbook.

Because every picture and every character inside was created by Kavi, it was a true original. Even Landres, who served as the first assistant, couldn't take it away and could only copy it from memory.

During the final stages of the World's Fair, thanks to Holt's efforts, this notebook was fortunate enough to be placed in the Natural History Museum, where it was displayed in a special case next to a corpse specimen, serving as a supplementary text to the dog specimens.

As the World's Fair drew to a close, other pavilions gradually lost their appeal. However, the Natural History Museum experienced a resurgence in popularity due to the appearance of the Kavi Notebook. The notes became highly sought after, and soon people began bidding to buy them. Initially, the price was written in a small notebook next to the display case, and few people paid attention. Gradually, more and more people followed suit, and the price rose accordingly, causing others to panic.

Apart from a few jeering individuals, the majority of those present were surgeons from major hospitals in Paris.

They immediately raised the price to five figures, and then medical schools and surgical associations joined in.

The soaring prices left even the aristocrats who frequently attended art auctions speechless. Had the organizers, Hagg and Holt, not intervened in time, they might have taken action right there at the exhibition center.

This notebook is definitely not for sale.

It wasn't that Kavi was being secretive; if it were any other surgery, he would share it without hesitation. The earliest cesarean sections had already spread in Vienna and Paris, and doctors who had learned the technique were all over Europe, directly reducing the mortality rate of cesarean sections in Europe to below 20%.

In Vienna, the birthplace of cesarean section, it's a routine procedure, on par with bladder lithotomy, which has a mortality rate of less than 5%.

But Bertha's surgery was different; its complexity from the outset determined its extremely high learning cost. Not only was the process intricate, but it also contained countless pitfalls.

Kavi didn't want anyone to experiment on "patients" recklessly in order to learn it, especially since "learning" and "being able to do" are two completely different concepts.

Of course, it's better to guide than to block.

To appease the doctors' insatiable thirst for knowledge, Kavi carefully considered the options and made some cuts to the hand-drawn book. The simplified version focuses more on text, with far fewer illustrations, and specifically lists all possible complications at the end, informing them of the risks of the surgery.

This edition was bound into a book and included as a complimentary copy of his newly launched journal, *Karlsky's Journal of Surgery*. It was easily obtained by paying a modest annual fee.

The simplified version can't compare to the original hand-drawn version, but it at least eased the doctors' thirst for knowledge; there were noticeably fewer people making special trips to Vienna to see Kavi.

This shift in power actually benefited those around him, such as Begot, who was standing behind him at the moment.

Of course, getting the notes wasn't just a matter of pleading and begging; it also required him to have worked hard and made progress over the years, which showed Kavi his potential and led him to agree to let him read them for a while.

As soon as he received the notebook, Kavi regretted it.

Perhaps spurred by the successful marriage proposal, Bergette has become even more obsessed with his work ever since László agreed to his marriage to Naya at the end of last year.

To outsiders, it's difficult to describe this state with a few rigid words. If one had to describe it, his behavior pattern is increasingly resembling that of Kavi, and "Kavi-ization" might be a more accurate description.

This state is inherently greedy—greedy for medicine, greedy for surgery, greedy for every detail of the work.

Since obtaining the notes, Bergett has completely shed the burden of his title and spends all his time bombarding Cavill with questions.

Some questions were appropriate for a surgeon at his stage, while others, even if not, were worth asking. But the more questions he asked, the more difficult ones became. Kavi couldn't simply attribute everything to the nonexistent "father" and the never-before-seen "experiment."

Kavi, fed up with the situation, hoped to use the invitation from the new Spanish emperor to get rid of this persistent fellow. Unexpectedly, Berget seized the opportunity, took a three-month leave, and volunteered to become his attendant.

This guy is a hassle, but Kavi got used to it over time. Now the bigger problem is how to get to Madrid as soon as possible.

The new King of Spain, the Duke of Aosta, personally invited him to the coronation ceremony, and the date was set. Missing the ceremony would be extremely disrespectful, especially since Kavi himself was a key figure in the event, with many eyes watching.

Kavi was somewhat troubled: "Mr. Hugo did say that this road was not very safe, but there are four of us, so we shouldn't be unable to make it."

Seeing him looking at him, Casper knew what the guy was going to do and quickly stopped him from speaking: "I swore an oath to Count Morasso that I would bring you back safely. If, and I mean if, something happens, I will have no face to go back to Vienna."

"There were local mounted police officers there even in broad daylight."

"You're so careful during surgery, always looking out for yourself. How come you're so bold when something like this happens?"

"What does this have to do with the surgery?"

"As your bodyguard, I suggest—no, I personally disagree with taking this mountain path."

"So, we'll just have to wait here in Ellang?"

The border soldier realized that Kavi was the leader of the four, and hesitated for a while with his gun on his back. Suddenly, as if he had made up his mind, he stepped forward and said to them, "If you insist on taking this road to San Sebastián, I have a way."

"any solution?"

"Actually, it's not really a secret. Many passing vendors know it. It's almost become an unwritten rule in the area, but nobody wants to."

The soldier wore a tattered uniform, with blue cloth patches on the collar and elbows of his jacket, and his canvas trousers were also torn. He first returned the passports to the men, then suggested:

“If you’re not willing to wait and insist on taking this route now, then you can wait until the afternoon when patrolling mounted police will come to check. At that time, the mounted police can lead you along this route. If you walk quickly, you should be able to reach San Sebastián before dark.”

"Oh? They're willing to help?" Bergett was delighted.

“It’s not that simple,” Casper asked the soldier. “Following him all the way wouldn’t be cheap, would it?”

“You’re dressed like ordinary people,” the soldier said with an awkward smile. “They charge at least 200 francs per trip, for four people and five horses, which would be about seven or eight hundred. Ordinary merchants certainly couldn’t afford that, but it shouldn’t be too expensive for you.”

If money can solve everything, then everything is simple.

"You're helping me out, you must be getting paid for it, right?"

"Me?" The soldier was slightly taken aback, then laughed. "I'm just doing you a favor by acting as a translator during the transaction. If I could make a fortune with every group I passed, I wouldn't have to dress so shabbily."

That's what they say, but we still have to give what we're owed.

Kavi took out his wallet from his luggage, first preparing a thousand francs for Casper, then patted the soldier on the shoulder and stuffed a hundred-franc note into his hand: "Thank you."

"You're welcome." The soldier skillfully put the money into his pocket. "Please have something to eat first. The mounted police won't wait for you. We'll rest here for a bit before heading back to San Sebastián. There won't be any rest time then."

"Thanks for reminding."

Kavi took the bread Jonah offered, broke off a piece, put it in his mouth, chewed a couple of times, and suddenly asked, "You have a pretty strong learning ability."

"Huh?" The soldier didn't understand what he meant.

"You've only exchanged a few words, and your French has already become fluent."