Rabelais suppressed nothing, modified nothing; he did not change his plan at all.

What he did was to make insertions, to slip in between two clauses a new one.

He expressed his meaning in a lengthier way, and the former clause is found in its integrity along with the additional one, of which it forms, as it were, the warp.

It was by this method of touching up the smallest details, by making here and there such little noticeable additions, that he succeeded in heightening the effect without either change or loss.

In the end it looks as if he had altered nothing, added nothing new, as if it had always been so from the first, and had never been meddled with.
The comparison is most instructive, showing us to what an extent Rabelais' admirable style was due to conscious effort, care, and elaboration, a fact which is generally too much overlooked, and how instead of leaving any trace which would reveal toil and study, it has on the contrary a marvellous cohesion, precision, and brilliancy.