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If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Double Life - -Author: Gaston Leroux - -Release Date: January 17, 2017 [EBook #53989] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DOUBLE LIFE *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - - -THE DOUBLE LIFE - -BY GASTON LEROUX - -Author of “The Mystery of the Yellow Room” - -JOHN E. KEARNEY Forty-Three West Twenty-Seventh Street New York - -Copyright, 1909, by JOHN E. KEARNEY - - - - -HISTORICAL PREFACE - - -|I WAS passing through the waiting-room of the _Morning Journal_ on a -certain evening last year when my attention was drawn to a man seated -in a corner. He was dressed in black and his appearance was that of -the deepest dejection. In fact upon his face I read the most melancholy -despair. - -He was not weeping, his eyes were dry and almost expressionless and -received the impression of exterior objects like motionless ice. He had -placed upon his knees a small oaken chest, ornamented with ironwork. -His hands were crossed over this object and hung down, accentuating his -dejected appearance. - -An attendant told me that he had been awaiting my arrival there three -long hours without a movement, without so much as a sigh. I went towards -him, and announcing myself, I invited him to enter my office. I showed -him a seat, but instead of taking it he came straight to my writing-desk -and placed the little oaken chest on it. “Sir, this chest belongs to -you,” said he, and his voice seemed far away and indistinct. “My -friend, M. Théophraste Longuet, commissioned me to bring it to you. -Take it, sir, and believe me, your servant.” As he spoke the man bowed -and made a motion toward the door. I stopped him, however, and said: -“Why, do not go, I cannot receive this box without a knowledge of its -contents.” He replied: “Sir, I do not know what it contains, it is -locked and its key is lost. You might have to break it open to find out -the contents.” I replied: “Then at least I would like to know to -whom I am indebted for bringing it to me.” - -“My friend, M. Théophraste Longuet, called me Adolphe,” replied -the man, in a voice so melancholy that it seemed to grow more faint and -indistinct with each syllable. - -“Well, if M. Longuet had brought me the chest himself, he would most -certainly have told me what it contains; I expect that M. Longuet, -himself.” - -“I also, sir,” said the man, “but M. Théophraste Longuet is dead, -and I am his sole executor.” - -By this time he had edged his way to the door, and having said these -words, he opened the door and departed. I was taken back by this sudden -move and stood staring at the door, then at the chest. Collecting myself -I hastily followed the man, but could find no trace of him... he had -disappeared. - -Opening the chest I found it contained a bundle of papers, which at -first I regarded with indifference, but which I presently began -to examine with greater interest. The deeper I penetrated the more -mysterious they appeared to be and the more unexpected were the -adventures revealed. In fact, so strange did they seem that I at first -could not believe my intelligence, and if the proof had not been in -front of me I never would have been convinced of their reality. - -It was some time before I could bring myself to realize my position -regarding these papers. M. Théophraste Longuet had made me heir to this -chest and to the mysteries lying therein. In fact, the secrets of his -life. - -These papers were written in the form of memoirs and were voluminous. -They related with the minutest detail, all the incidents of an -exceptionally dramatic existence. M. Théophraste Longuet had by the -discovery of a document two centuries old acquired the proof that Louis -Dominique Cartouche, the most cunning criminal in the annals of French -crime, and he, Théophraste, were one and the same person. This was -indeed a most startling discovery and valuable, for it also put me on -the track of the treasures of the famous Cartouche. - -He had frequently confided in me facts about his peculiar life, but an -untimely death, certain terrible events related in these documents, -had prevented him from telling me all. We had been great friends. I had -written for a journal he had called his “favorite organ.” He -had chosen me as his companion and confidant from among many other -journalists, not because of any superiority of intellect, but rather, -as he used to say, “because a reliable level-headed friend is worth -twenty acquaintances, and he found me reliable.” There was much -significance in this word, “level-headed,” as you will learn as you -read this narrative. - -Having thoroughly examined the papers, I immediately took them to my -manager, who was a keen business man. He did not hesitate for a moment -to find the “Treasures of Cartouche” a valuable piece for his paper, -and it is now a matter of common knowledge how curiously the sum of -twenty-five thousand francs, divided into seven sums, were hidden in and -around Paris, and how the author of these lines in the history of the -chest which appeared in print in the month of October, in the year 1903, -* touched lightly upon the story found therein. - -* This date is very important, for it established the fact that -my authentic history of Cartouche had appeared before Mr. Frank -Brentano’s book, and that one two books the day after that of Mr. -Maurice Bernard. - -I have believed it my duty toward the public, and also to the memory of -Théophraste Longuet, to publish in volume the authentic history of the -reincarnation of Cartouche, written exclusively from the documents found -in the little oaken chest, a plain narrative, unembellished by all that -which I, poor journalist, had added for the chance reader of my journal. - -The reader will find more than a mere treasure. The documents are of -the greatest literary value, inasmuch as they contain proof of things -hitherto only dreamt of. It is certain that many people imagining -themselves of superior intellect will doubt and possibly scoff at many -of these mysteries. - -The oaken chest contained the secret of the tomb; it also contained -the history of the Talpa people written by no less an authority than M. -Milfroid, Commissioner of Police, who remained for three weeks with M. -Théophraste Longuet in the subterranean home of those monsters. This -last infernal comedy would most certainly have met with incredulity had -not it been vented by one of the most honest and intellectual of Police -Commissioners. M. Milfroid was a most noble and accomplished character, -and he could place music, painting, sculptors among his accomplishments. - -Now before closing this preface I must warn my readers that they -will find many strange things in the narrative, weird and almost -supernatural. And I would say that unless he is possessed with -great level-headedness, he must not read the secrets of the Life of -Théophraste Longuet. - - - - -CHAPTER PAGE - -Historical Preface........................ 5 - -I M. Théophraste Longuet Wishes to Inform Himself, and Visits -Historical Monuments.............................. 15 - -II An Explanation from Théophraste------- 26 - -III A Search and a Discovery................ 34 - -IV Some Philosophy and a Song.............. 48 - -V Théophraste Remembers Himself......... 57 - -VI M. Lecamus Expresses Himself............ 64 - -VII Théophraste and His Black Plume_______ 68 - -VIII An Appeal for Help...................... 76 - -IX The Portrait............................ 84 - -X Cartouche’s Past........................ 94 - -XI Signor Appears.......................... 99 - -XII Théophraste’s Memory is Refreshed.. 112 - -XIII The Cat................................ 125 - -XIV Petito Loses His Ears.................. 131 - -XV Adolphe Consulted...................... 140 - -XVI On Private Ground...................... 146 - -XVII They Decide to Kill.................... 161 - -XVIII The Operation.......................... 166 - -XIX The Torture Chamber.................... 177 - -XX In the Charnel House................... 188 - -XXI Results of the Operation............... 197 - -XXII Visits to a Butcher’s Shop............ 201 - -XXIII A Newspaper Report..................... 207 - -XXIV The Murder in the Rue Guenegaud... 215 - - - - -CHAPTER PAGE - -XXV The Calf’s Revenge.............. 221 - -XXVI Théophraste Again Hears of His - -Treasures...................... 228 - -XXVII The Express Train’s Disappearance 234 - -XXVIII Not to be Explained.............. 240 - -XXIX M. Mifroid Recognizes Cartouche.. 244 - -XXX M. Mifroid’s Theory................ 247 - -XXXI Lost in the Catacombs.............. 253 - -XXXII A Dissertation on Fish............. 264 - -XXXIII The Meeting of the Talfa........ 269 - -XXXIV M. Mifroid Performs on the Stage.. 276 - -XXXV A New Trade...................... 280 - -XXXVI A Robber Is Caught................. 284 - -XXXVII The Escape from the Catacombs..... 287 - -XXXVIII An Old Friend...................... 293 - -XXXIX The Final Tragedy................... 296 - -THE DOUBLE LIFE - - - - -CHAPTER I - -_M. Théophraste Longuet Wishes to Inform Him-self and Visits Historical -Monuments_ - - -|THE strange adventures of M. Théophraste Longuet, which ended so -tragically, originated in a visit to the prison of the Conciergerie, on -the 28th of June, 1899. Therefore this history is modern; but the writer -would say that, having read and examined all the papers and writings -of M. Théophraste Longuet, its recentness does not detract from its -sensational character. - -When M. Longuet rang the bell of the Conciergerie he was accompanied -by his wife, Marceline, and M. Adolphe Lecamus. The latter was a close -friend. It was his physique that had attracted M. Longuet. He was not -handsome, but was tall and well built, and every movement showed that -strength which M. Longuet lacked. His forehead was broad and convex, his -eyebrows were heavy and straight. He had a habit of every now and -then lifting them gracefully to express his disdain of others and -his confidence in himself. His grey eyes twinkled under near-sighted -spectacles, and the straight nose, the proud arch of the underlip, -surmounted by a dark, flowing mustache, the square outline of his chin -and his amaranthine complexion, all combined to accentuate his strong -appearance. - -He had been employed as postmaster at Turin, and had traveled -considerably. He had crossed the sea. This was also an attraction to M. -Longuet, who had never crossed anything, unless it was the Seine. - -M. Longuet had been a rubber stamp manufacturer, but had made sufficient -money to retire at an early age. He was the antithesis of Adolphe in -build and character. His face showed no marked intelligence, and his -slight build lent almost insignificance to his appearance. He had, -however, imagination, and he used to laughingly say to Adolphe: “Even -if I haven’t traveled, I run just as much risk in walking the streets -of Paris as one who crosses the ocean in ships. Might not houses -collapse or pots of flowers fall on one’s head?” Thus he lived a -monotonous existence, relieved only by the morbid workings of his mind. - -Before his retirement he had worked hard and had little time to study, -therefore, now he had leisure, it occurred to him to occupy his time in -improving his mind. It was with this intention that we find him visiting -the various buildings of historic interest around Paris. - -On ringing the bell of the Conciergerie the iron door turned heavily -on its hinges. A warden shaking the keys demanded of Théophraste his -permit. He had anticipated this and had received it that morning from -the Prefect of Police. He tendered it with satisfaction, looking around -at his companion with the confidence of anticipations realized. - -The gate-keeper turned the little company over to the Chief Warden, who -was passing at the time. Marceline was much impressed, and as she leaned -on Adolphe’s arm, thought of Marie Antoinette’s dungeon, the Grevin -Museum, and all the mysteries of this famous prison. The Chief Warden -said: “Are you French?” to which Théophraste replied, laughingly, -for he was typically French: “Do we look like English people?” - -“This is the first time,” explained the Chief Warden, “that any -French people have asked permission to visit the Conciergerie. French -people are indifferent to things of interest in their own country.” -“They are wrong, sir,” replied Théophraste, wiping his spectacles. -“In the monuments of the past we have foundations of the future.” -This idea rather pleased him, and he looked for approval to Adolphe and -Marceline. He continued following the Warden. “As for me, I am an old -Parisian and would have visited all these places of interest long ago -but for my work. I have worked hard at my trade and the only leisure I -got was when I went to bed. That time is over now, sir, and now is the -time for me to educate myself,” and he struck the century-old pavement -with the end of his green umbrella. - -Passing a small door and a large wicket, they descended some steps and -were in the guard-room. The first thing to draw attention made Adolphe -laugh, Marceline blush, and Théophraste turn in disgust. It was the -capital of a Gothic column carved to symbolize the story of Abelard and -Heloise. Abelard was pleading with the Carion Fulbert for his clemency, -while the latter was taking the child from Heloise. - -“It is strange,” said M. Longuet, “that in the name of art the -Government should tolerate such obscenities. That capital is a disgrace -to the Conciergerie and should be removed.” M. Lecamus did not agree, -and said: “Many things are excusable in art if they are done in the -right spirit.” - -However, the subject was dropped and they were soon interested in other -parts of these old historic buildings. The Chief Warden conducted them -through the Tower of Cæsar, into the Silver Tower, or Tower of Bon -Bee. They thought of the thousand of illustrious prisoners who had been -incarcerated in prison for years. Marceline could not keep from thinking -of the martyred Marie Antoinette, of Elizabeth, and the little Dauphin, -and of the waxen gendarmes in the museum, who watched over the Royal -family. All this impressed her, and her mind was continually carried -back to those stirring times. The Silver Tower had been transformed into -a record office, and the modern writing desks were in striking contrast -to the old medieval walls. Returning through the guard-room, they -directed their steps towards the Bon Bee Tower. Théophraste had read -about this tower and imagined he knew it well, so wishing to appear well -informed, asked of the Warden, “Is it not there, sir, that the last -meal of the Girondists was served? You ought certainly to tell us -exactly where to find the table, and also the place which Camille des -Moulins occupied.” The Warden replied that the Environdists had dined -in the chapel and that they would soon visit it. - -“I wish to know Camille des Moulins’ place,” said Théophraste, -“because he was a friend of mine.” - -“And mine also,” said Marceline, with a look towards Adolphe, which -seemed to say, “Not as much as you, Adolphe.” - -But Adolphe laughed and said Camille was not a Girondist, he was a -Franciscan friar, a friend of Danton, a Septembrian. - -Théophraste was vexed, and Marceline protested that if he had been -anything of the sort Lucille would not have married him. Adolphe did -not insist, but as they had by now reached the chamber of torture, he -feigned condescendingly to be interested in the labels which adorned the -drawers decorating the walls, “Hops,” “Cinnamon,” “Spice,” -etc. - -“Here is the room in question. They have transformed it into the -doctor’s store-room.” - -“It is just as well, perhaps,” said Théophraste, “but not so -impressive.” - -Adolphe and Marceline were of the same opinion. They were not at all -impressed. Here was the famous torture chamber. They expected something -else. They were disillusioned. Outside, when viewed from the court of -the Sundial, the formidable aspect of those old feudal towers, the last -vestige of the palace of the French monarchy, momentarily brought fear -and awe to their minds. That prison had stood a thousand years, had -known so many tragedies, death rattles, legendary miseries, hidden -secrets. It seemed that one only had to step inside to find an -inquisition court in some dark corner, damp and funereal. Here seemed -to be all the tragedies of the history of Paris, as immortal as the very -walls. - -What a disillusion here in these towers with a little plaster and paint -they had made the office of the Director of Records, the store-room of -the prison doctor. One could carouse here where once the hangman held -sway. One could laugh where only the cries of the tortured were heard. - -Now there would have been nothing unusual about this visit to the -Conciergerie but for a very extraordinary incident which occurred after -the party had left the torture chamber. The incident was weird and -inexplicable, and while I read M. Longuet’s own description of it, I -confess I found it impossible to believe. Therefore I went to the -Chief Warden, who had shown the party round the prison, and asked for -his account of the incident. - -He gave it to me in the following words: - -Sir, the affair passed as usual, and the lady, the two gentlemen and I -visited the kitchen of St. Louis, which is now used as a store-house for -plaster. We proceeded towards the dungeon of Marie Antoinette, which is -now the chapel. On the way I showed them the crucifix, before which she -prayed before mounting the cart which is now in the Director’s room. -I told the man with the green umbrella that we had been obliged to -transfer the Queen’s arm-chair to the Director’s room, because the -English visitors had carried away pieces from it as souvenirs. We had -by this time arrived at the end of the Street of Paris—you know the -street that leads from Paris to the Conciergerie. We passed through that -frightfully dark passage, where we found the grating behind which they -cut off the hair of the women before execution. You know that it is -the very same grating. It is a passage where never a ray of sunlight -penetrates. Marie Antoinette walked through that passage on the day of -her death. It is there that the old Conciergerie stands just as it was -hundreds of years ago. - -I was describing the Street of Paris, when suddenly the man with the -green umbrella cried out in a voice so unlike the previous voice, so -strangely that the other gentleman and lady looked startled: “Zounds, -it is the walk of the Straw Dealers.” He said it in a weird tone and -his whole attitude was changed. He used the expression, zounds, twice. I -told him he was mistaken, that the walk of the Straw Dealers is what -we call to-day the Street of Paris. He answered me in the same strange -voice: “Zounds, you cannot tell me that! I have lain there on that -straw like the others!” I remarked to him, smilingly, although not -without a feeling of fear, that no one had lain on that straw in the -alley of the Straw Dealers for more than two hundred years. - -He was just about to answer me when his wife intervened. “What are you -saying, Théophraste?” said she. “Do you wish to teach Monsieur his -business? You have never been to the Conciergerie before.” Then he -said in his natural voice, the voice by which I had known him at first: -“That is so, I have never been here before.” - -I could not understand then at all, but thought the incident closed, -when he did something stranger still. - -We visited the Queen’s Dungeon, Robespierre’s Dungeon, the Chapel -of the Girondists, and that little gate, which is still the same as when -the unfortunate prisoners, called the Septembrians, leaped over it to be -massacred in the court. We were now in the Street of Paris. There was -a little stairway on the left which we did not descend. It led to the -cellars which I did not deem necessary to show, as it was dark and -difficult of access. The gate at the bottom of this staircase is closed -by a grating which is perhaps a thousand years old—possibly more. The -gentleman, whom they called Adolphe, proceeded with the lady toward the -door leading out of the guard-room, but without saying a word the man -with the green umbrella descended the little staircase. When he was at -the grating he cried out in that strange, weird voice: “Well, where -are you going? It is here.” The gentleman and the lady stopped as if -petrified. The voice was terrible, and nothing in the outward appearance -of the man would make you believe that the voice came from him. In spite -of my fear I ran to the head of the stairs. I was thunderstruck. He -ordered me to open the grating, and I don’t know how I obeyed him. It -was as if I had been hypnotized. I obeyed mechanically. Then when the -grating was opened he disappeared in the darkness of the cellar. Where -had he gone? How could he find his way? Those subterranean passages of -the Conciergerie are plunged in frightful darkness and nobody has been -down there for centuries and centuries. - -He had already gone too far for me to stop him. He had hypnotized me. I -stayed about a quarter of an hour at the entrance of that dark hole. His -companions were in the same state as I was. It was impossible to follow -him. Then suddenly we heard his voice, not his first voice, but his -second. I was so startled I had to cling to the grating for support. He -cried out: “It is thou, Simon l’Anvergust.” I could not answer. He -passed near me, and as he passed it seemed to me that he put a scrap of -paper in his jacket pocket. He leaped up the steps with one bound and -rejoined the lady and gentleman. He gave them no explanation. As for -me, I ran to open the door of the prison for them. I wanted to get them -outside. When the wicket was open and the man with the green umbrella -was walking out, without apparent reason he said: “We must avoid the -wheel.” I don’t know what he meant, as there was no carriage near. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -_An Explanation from Théophraste_ - - -|NOW in reading the last chapter one would immediately think that M. -Longuet had gone mad. What had possessed him? Where did he go? In order -that you might fully understand his peculiar actions I will give you the -extract from his memoirs relating to this incident. He writes: - -I am a man of sound body and mind. I am a good citizen and recognize -all the laws. I believe laws are necessary for the proper regulation of -society. I dislike heartily any formalities, and in determining my lines -of conduct I have always chosen the simplest way. - -I dislike imaginative people, and the occult has always been repulsive -to me. However, this is not through want of understanding, for -my friend, Adolphe Lecamus, had given himself up to the study of -spiritualism. Whoever teaches spiritualism teaches foolishness, and the -desire to question the spirits of the dead by means of the planchette -seems to me to be beyond belief, it is grotesque. However, I have -assisted at some of Adolphe’s seances which he had given for the -benefit of Marceline and myself. I have even taken a certain part in -them, desiring to prove the absurdity of his theories. My wife and I -once rested our hands on a table for a quarter of an hour waiting for it -to move. Nothing happened, and we laughed heartily at him. However, my -wife was more sympathetic, and was inclined to be a little more serious. -Women are always more susceptible to the occult and ready to believe in -the mysterious. Adolphe bought her books, which she read eagerly, and he -amused himself sometimes by willing her to sleep, by making passes with -his hands and breathing on her eyes. It seemed foolish, and I should not -have allowed it from any one else, but I have always had a liking for -Adolphe, and know that it amuses him. Marceline and he said that I was -a skeptic. However, I am not a skeptic, as a skeptic is one who doubts -all. I believe in progress, but do not believe that one person having an -unnatural influence over another tends towards progress. Therefore I am -not a skeptic, but rather a philosopher. - -During his travels Adolphe read a great deal. I have had to work hard -all my life, therefore, while he is an idealist, I am a materialist. - -It seems necessary for me to thus describe my character so that it may -be well understood that the happenings of the day before yesterday were -not due to any occult reasons. I visited the prison in just the same -manner as I would go to a store to buy a cravat. I wanted to learn, that -is all. Having sold my business, I have more leisure, and so I said to -myself: “I will visit the interesting places of the city of Paris.” -Fate decreed that the Conciergerie was the first place to be visited. I -do not know whether I really regret it. - -At present I am calm and collected and can relate all I remember of what -happened. - -While we were in the Towers nothing happened worth recording. I remember -trying to picture to myself in the little room which looked like a -grocery store all the horrors of the place, how the executioners and -their assistants approached the prisoners with their monstrous machines, -how so many illustrious persons were martyred, and all the terrible -griefs and agonies which had been witnessed within these walls. But -the transformation had taken all the romance away, and the labels, -“Senna,” “Hops,” etc., did not inspire imagination. Even the Bon -Bee Tower, also called Bavarde, on account of the terrible cries which -were heard in it, has been changed into offices. However, I must not -complain. These are all the signs of progress and a more enlightened -age. - -But we penetrated into that part of the Conciergerie which has changed -little during all these centuries, which had not been spoiled by the -plasterer and in which all the stones could tell their own history; then -it was that a most inexplicable fever took possession of me, and when we -had reached the dark end of the walk of the “Straw Dealers,” I cried -out from my soul, “Zounds! this is the walk of the Straw Dealers.” - -I turned around immediately to find out who had uttered these words. -They were all staring at me, and I was convinced that it was myself who -had cried out. It seemed so strange. The voice was not like mine, but it -had emanated from me. Even now it is unaccountable. - -The Warden pretended that we had passed the walk of the “Straw -Dealers.” I told him that I knew the place better than he, for I had -lain there on the straw myself. But I had never been in the Conciergerie -before, and yet I was sure of it. It is difficult to explain. While -we walked through the chapel of the Girondists, and the Warden was -explaining the story to us, I played with my umbrella. I tried to appear -natural and collected. Although the things which happened were quite -natural, and not the result of any effort, a cold perspiration seized me -and I shook like a leaf. I remember that I found myself at the bottom -of the stairs, standing before a grating. I was endowed with almost -superhuman strength. Shaking the grating, I called out for the others to -follow. However, the others had gone ahead and did not hear. I called to -the Warden to open the grating. I don’t know what would have happened -if he had not done so, quickly. I was crazy, and yet everything was -natural to me. Truly, I was in a state of great nervous excitement, but -everything was lucid to me. Never before had I seen so clearly as when -in that dark cellar. Never before had I recognized a place so vividly as -when I was down there where I had never been before. My God! I did not -know them, and yet I recognized them. - -Without hesitating I groped around, feeling the stones in the dark, and -my feet trod a soil which seemed familiar but which had not been trodden -for centuries. I seemed to know these very stones, forgotten in the -darkness of those cellars. I slid the length of the damp flagstones as -if I had been accustomed to the way. My finger-nails came in contact -with sharp stones in the wall and I counted the seams as I passed. I -knew that if I turned round I would see a certain square light in -the distant gallery, a single ray in all this place where the sun had -forgotten to shine since France’s history had begun. I turned and saw -it, and I felt my heart beat violently. - -Here there was a momentary interruption in the writings. M. Longuet, -having explained what had happened to him in that strange hour in the -Conciergerie, was greatly agitated. It was with difficulty he remained -master of his thoughts. It was difficult to follow them; they seemed to -come and go, just leaving faint traces on the paper of the record. - -He resumed the pen with feverish hand. Continuing to busy himself with -the subterranean passages, he writes: - -It is necessary to pause here as one pauses at the edge of a precipice. -My very thoughts make me shiver!... - -And the Bavarde, there it stands. There are the walls which have helped -to make history. It is not on high in the glorious sunlight that the -Bavarde tells its history. It is here in the blackness of the earth. -There are some large iron staples in the wall here. The very chains -of Ravaillac! I recall no more; but towards that ray, the sole ray of -light, as eternal and immovable as the very walls— towards that small -square beam, which since the beginning of things has taken and kept the -shape of a sentinel, I advanced. There was some impelling force which -urged me on. I rushed ahead while the fever was in me and seemed to -intoxicate me. Suddenly I paused, my feet seemed held to the ground and -my fingers ran sliding and pressing the length of the wall. What it was -that impelled my finger, what was the thought, I cannot tell. All at -once I let my umbrella fall, and drawing my pen-knife, began to scrape -steadily between two stones. The dust and cement powdered away easily, -and soon my knife struck something between the stones, and I pulled the -thing out. - -This is why I am sure I was not mad. This thing has been before my -eyes. In my most peaceful hours I, Théophraste Longuet, see it in my -writing-desk. It is not I who am mad, but this thing itself! It is a -piece of torn paper, stained. . . a document of which it is easy to tell -the age and calculated to plunge any man into the deepest consternation. - -The paper is, as you must know, terribly decayed. The dampness has eaten -into half the words, which seem, on account of their reddish tint, to -have been written with blood. - -I took the document to the small ray of light, and on looking it over my -hair seemed to stand on end with horror. _There I could recognize my -own handwriting_, and I give you this precious and mysterious document -clearly translated: - -“Dead and buried all his treasures after the Treachery of April -1st. Go, take a look in the barroom! Look at the furnace! Look at the -weathercock! Dig a while and you shall be rich!” - - - - -CHAPTER III - -_A Search and a Discovery_ - - -|M. ADOLPHE LECAMUS and Marceline thought M. Théophraste’s actions -strange, but they were too much occupied with an affair of their own to -attach very great importance to them. However, M. Théophraste concealed -his anxiety and pretended that the visit to the Conciergerie was quite -a natural occurrence. He had gone down in the cellars just to satisfy -a natural curiosity, not being one of those who make a superficial -inspection of things of interest. - -The following day, M. Théophraste, under the pretext of putting his -affairs in order, shut himself up in his office and gave instructions -for nobody to disturb him. Leaning over the balcony he looked out -upon the little square of Anvers and reflected over the happenings -of yesterday. There was nothing in the view to distract him. He was -accustomed to the scene below: nurses pushing perambulators gossiping -over the latest news, and a few professors walking towards the Rollie -College. The Avenue Touraine rang with the shouts of college students -who had come before the lecture hour. - -Nothing had changed; the world was just the same. To-day, like -yesterday, or like the day before yesterday. The people were going -to their business just the same. Even Nidine Petito, the wife of the -Italian professor, who lived in the apartment below, was the same. She -began to play the “Carnival of Venice” on the piano just as she did -every day. - -Nothing had changed; thus he reflected. On turning round he could see -amongst his papers on the desk, the document. Did it really exist? -He had passed a restless night and was now attributing his strange -adventure to a bad dream—but no, it could not be that, for there was -the paper on his desk, in his own handwriting, and written in blood. -Good God! perhaps it was his own blood. What thoughts, what thoughts! - -Théophraste passed his hand over his forehead. He was perspiring and -restless. Suddenly breathing a sigh and slapping his thigh with his -hand, he appeared to have come to a definite resolution, and put the -paper carefully away in his portfolio. - -He remembered that Signor Petito, the Italian professor, was an expert -in handwriting and that he had had experience in engraving. He would -take the document to him and ask his opinion. His friend Adolphe was -also interested in graphology, but only in a spiritual way, and so he -would not confide in him. There was already too much mystery in the -affair without mixing it up with spiritualism and mediums. - -He had only known the professor to bow to on the stairs, and so -in presenting himself he was introduced. The professor greeted him -cordially, and after the usual formalities, Théophraste broached the -subject of his visit. He produced the paper, and a letter which he -had written some time previously. “Signor Petito,” he commenced, -“having heard of your renown as an expert in handwriting, I would be -grateful to you if you would examine this letter, and this document, -and give me the result of your observations. I may say that there is no -connection between the two papers.” - -Théophraste was not in the habit of lying, and blushed redder than a -peony. But Signor Petito was already deeply engrossed in the examining -of the two papers. His scholarly eye looked over one, then the other. -He placed them together, held them up to the light, passed his hand -over the writing, and measured them. Then he laughed, showing his white -teeth. - -“Monsieur Longuet,” said he, “it is not necessary for me to keep -you waiting long for a reply. This document is in a very bad condition, -but the specimen of handwriting can still be read. They are in every way -similar to the letter, and I would swear before any tribunal that those -two handwritings have been traced by the same hand.” - -Then he entered into details. “A child,” he said, “could not be -mistaken about it.” He pointed out how this duplicate writing was -identically angular. “We call a handwriting angular, Monsieur, when -the hair-strokes which join the bottom of the letters and the separate -letters are at an acute angle to the down-strokes of the letters. Do -you understand? Compare this hook and that one, those hair-strokes -with these others, and all those letters getting larger, larger in both -writing and in equal measure. But what a clear writing, Monsieur; I -have never seen such clear writing before. As clear as if cut with a -knife.” - -By this time Théophraste had become white with nervousness. Signor -Petito thought that he was going to faint. However, he arose, picked up -the document and the letter, and having thanked Signor Petito, he went -out. - -He wandered the streets for a long time, and at last turning down -a small street, he stood in front of an old door in the Rue Inger. -Entering, he found himself in a narrow, dark passage. A man came out of -a back room, and on recognizing Théophraste, greeted him in a friendly -way. He was wearing a square paper cap, and had on a black gown which -reached down to his feet. - -“Good-day, Théophraste, good-day. What happy chance has brought you -here?” - -As it had been two years since they had last seen each other they at -first spoke of family matters and other generalities. Ambrose spoke of -his trade of engraving visiting cards. He had been a printer. He had -been a printer in the province, but having put all he had into an -invention for a new paper, he had failed. He was a distant cousin to -Marceline, and when he was deep in financial troubles, Théophraste had -come to his rescue. - -Théophraste seated himself on the wicker chair in the small room which -served as a workshop. This room was lighted by a large window reaching -from floor to ceiling. - -“Ambrose, you are an expert. No one can approach you in the knowledge -of papers, eh?” “That is not quite true,” said Ambrose, “but I -can judge a good paper.” - -“You understand all kinds?” - -“All kinds.” - -“If some one showed you a piece of paper, could you tell the age of -it?” - -“Yes,” said Ambrose, “I could. I have published a treatise on the -water-marks of papers used in France in the seventeenth and eighteenth -centuries. That study was accepted by the Academy.” “I know, and I -have great respect for your knowledge.” - -“Well, the thing is simple. The oldest paper showed a plain, glossy -surface, but soon there appeared wide lines crossed at intervals by -perpendicular lines, both giving the impression of a metal trellis over -which the paste had been spread. From the fourteenth century they used -these as a maker’s mark, and in the end they designed figures in -brass wire, initials, words, emblems of all sorts —these are the -water-marks. Every sheet of water-marked paper tells its tale, and the -year of its make can be detected, but the difficulty is to decipher -it. This necessitates a little practice.” Théophraste opened his -portfolio and took out the paper. - -“Can you tell me the exact date of this?” Ambrose put on his -eyeglass and took the paper to the daylight. - -“There is the date,” he said, “172--, the last figure is rubbed -out. It must be of the eighteenth century.” - -“Oh,” said Théophraste, “I saw that date quite well, but do you -really think that the paper is-of that century? Does not the date lie? -That is what I want to know.” - -Ambrose showed him the center of the paper. “See?” - -Théophraste said nothing. Then Ambrose lit a small lamp and held the -paper up before it. In illuminating the document one could detect in the -thickness of the paper the design of a crown. - -“Théophraste,” said Ambrose excitedly, “that paper is exceedingly -rare. That mark is almost unknown, for a very little paper was made -with that sign, which is called the Crown of Thorns. That paper, my dear -Théophraste, was made in 1721.” - -“You are sure?” - -“Yes, but tell me,” cried Ambrose, who could not conceal his -surprise, “how is it that this document, dated 1721, could be by all -visible marks in your handwriting?” - -Théophraste said nothing, but getting up and putting the document back -into the portfolio, he hastened out of the house. - -And so here was proof enough. He could doubt it no longer. This paper, -dated in the beginning of the eighteenth century, in the time of the -Regents, this sheet that he had sought for in the prison, distinctly -bore his own handwriting. He had written on that sheet, he, Théophraste -Longuet, late maker of rubber stamps, who retired last week at the age -of 41—he wrote on that sheet of paper these incomprehensible words in -1721. However, it did not want Signor Petito or Ambrose to prove it to -him. He knew it himself. Everything within him cried out, “It is your -paper!” And so instead of being Théophraste Longuet, son of John -Longuet, master gardener to the Ferte sous Jonaise, he had been in the -past some one he did not know, but who had been reborn in him. Yes, -that was it, and he now had the great desire to recall having lived 200 -years. - -Who was he? What was his name? In which body had his immortal soul -elected momentarily to live? He felt certain that these questions would -not remain long unanswered. Was it true that some of the things ignored -in his present existence constituted part of his past life? What was -meant by certain expressions spoken in the Conciergerie? Who, then, was -Simon de Anvergust, whose name had been twice repeated by his burning -lips? - -“Yes, yes, the name, in former times my own, his also,” wrote -Théophraste in his journal, “arose from my awakened brain, and -knowing who I was, I recalled the whole life lived in former years, and -I read in a flash from that piece of paper all the details of a past -life.” - -Monsieur Théophraste Longuet, to state the matter frankly, had not -arrived at the conclusion without having, in these incoherent lines, -wandered before. The happenings of these days were too unusual. Imagine, -he was simple-minded, a little heavy, a little foppish, he had never -invented anything in his life. He was just an amiable, honest citizen, -stupid and headstrong. He had no religion. He left that to the women, -and without declaring his atheism, used to say: “When one dies, it is -forever.” However, now he had discovered by an extraordinary incident, -that one never dies. He had to support this, and in doing so declared -that not even those in the business, in occult science, frequenting -spirits daily, could have such palpable proof. In the end Théophraste -made his resolution quickly. - -This anterior existence could no longer be denied, although he knew -nothing about it. In the uncertainty of his mind he could not associate -the date 1721 with his visit to the Conciergerie. - -However, he came to this final conclusion. In 1721 he had been confined -in the Conciergerie Prison, probably as a prisoner of state. He could -not admit for a second that he, Théophraste Longuet, had been shut up, -even under Louis XV, as a common criminal. In a solemn moment, perhaps -before being put to torture, he had drawn up this document and hidden -the paper between the stones in the dungeon, and passing by there two -centuries later, had found it again. This was simple enough and not -the result of any supernatural inspiration. The facts themselves were -enough. - -Certain words of the document were in themselves quite natural and of -the most momentous importance. These were “Treasure... treachery of -the first of April.” - -It was with these words that he hoped to discover his identity. First, -he had been rich and powerful. The words about the treasure showed -conclusively that the man had been rich and that he had buried his -treasure. He had been powerful and had been betrayed. Théophraste -had in his mind that the treason had been a memorable treason, perhaps -historic—the treachery of the first of April. - -Yes, all the oddities and all the mysteries of the document left -at least a glimpse of something certain: that he had been a great -personage, that he had buried his treasures; and that after having -buried them mysteriously, more mysteriously still revealed their -existence, at the price of much cunning; perhaps at the price of his own -blood. Without doubt those tinted words had been written with blood. - -Later he proposed to ask a distinguished chemist to examine it. The -treasures belonged to him, and if necessary he would use this document -to establish his right to them. - -Théophraste was not rich. He had retired from business with a modest -little income. He had a comfortable little house with a garden and -bowling alley. However, this was little, with the somewhat extravagant -tastes of Marceline, and so the treasure would be most acceptable. He -therefore applied himself diligently to the research. - -It must be said, though, to his credit, that he was much more puzzled by -the mystery of his personality than by the mystery of the treasure, and -that he resolved to temporarily suspend his research until the time -when he could at least give a name to this personage that he had -been—Théophraste Longuet in 1721. That discovery which interested him -most came to be in his mind the key of all the others. - -That which astonished him most was the sudden development of what -he called his “historical instinct,” the instinct which had been -deficient in him all his life, but which had been revealed to him with -the suddenness and force of a clap of thunder in the depths of the -Conciergerie. In one moment, the Other, as he used to say in conversing -of this great 18th-century personage, had possessed him. It was the -Other who had found the document; it was the Other who had cried out -in the Conciergerie; it was the Other who had called to Simon -l’Anvergust, and since the Other had disappeared, Théophraste did not -know what had become of him. He sought him in vain; he examined himself; -he searched his very soul. - -Before this adventure Théophraste had no curiosity about the -beginning or ending of things, he had not wasted time in wondering -over philosophical mysteries; in his vanity he had always shrugged his -shoulders at such things. However, now things were different; here was a -quiet citizen, with little scientific knowledge, who had to prove that -a manufacturer of India rubber in the year 1899 had been shut up in a -dungeon after having buried treasures in 1721. But the revelation of -this extraordinary fact had come to him spontaneously and remained so -fixed in his mind that he resolved to probe the matter to the bottom. - -His instinct abandoned him momentarily and he would search books and -discover who this powerful, rich person was who had been betrayed on -April 1st; which April 1st? This remained to be determined. He haunted -the libraries from that time on. He marshaled before him the Premiers of -the Kingdom. He found nothing to give him a clue. Some dukes and peers, -some illustrious generals, some great financiers, a few princes of -the blood. He stopped an instant at Law, but he was too dissipated; at -Maurice de Saxe, who ought to have won the Battle of Fontenoy; at the -Count du Barry, who had had the most beautiful mistress in Paris. -He feared that perhaps he had been the Count de Charolais, who -distinguished himself by his debauches, and killed the thatchers on -the roofs by shooting at them. He was forty-eight hours the Cardinal of -Palegria, but was disgusted when he learned that his Eminence had been -a farm hand for the Duchess of Maine. It was refreshing to find in some -corner of history a sympathetic count or lord that the writers of the -epoch had adorned in engaging colors and on whom they had bestowed -some virtues. But Théophraste soon saw that all these would have to be -abandoned. For none of them had the principal qualifications of having -been shut up in the Conciergerie in 1721, or having been betrayed on an -April 1st. - -However, in the Journal of the Barber, he discovered a bastard of the -Regent, about whom were some startling facts which precipitated him into -a state of great excitement. - -Before entering into the details, however, of this discovery, we will -return to the doings of Marceline and M. Adolphe Lecamus. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -_Some Philosophy and a Song_ - - -|LET us leave Paris awhile and return to the little estate on the banks -of the Marne, which Théophraste generally moved to with the first rays -of the July sun. This year he was to go there before Marceline and his -friend, Adolphe, who had been commissioned to survey the timbers on -some lands elsewhere. Thus these last few days he could spend alone -in security and peace to attend to this unusual treatise which his new -position in the world had given him. - -The name of the house was “Villa Flots d’Azure.” Théophraste had -given it this name against the wishes of Adolphe, who protested that the -name was for a villa near the sea. He had replied with logic that he had -often gone to the Preport, and that he had always seen the sea green; -that he knew the Marne, and that on account of the reflected blue sky -the water seemed blue. Do they not say “the beautiful blue Danube”? -It was not only the ocean that had blue waves, so he did not see why he -should not call his villa on the Marne “Villa Flots d’Azure.” - -That day was the anniversary of their marriage. Théophraste was very -fond of Marceline, and these anniversaries were always the occasion for -much merry-making. Marceline also loved Théophraste, and saw no reason -why she should not like Adolphe equally as well, whereas, on the other -side, Adolphe adored Marceline and would have died for Théophraste. On -reflection, the name “Villa Flots d’Amour” would have been more -appropriate than “Villa Flots d’Azure,” such harmony existed -therein. - -Théophraste shook Adolphe’s hand effusively. He complimented his wife -on her beauty. He had his green umbrella that day, and in making his -congratulations twirled it in a fashion, as he thought, resembling -the manner in which they used canes in the beginning of the eighteenth -century. He was not a vain person, but he knew by this scientific -miracle that he had been a great man two hundred years ago, and he -felt that he should convey the impression that he had moved among great -people and affairs. - -It was their custom upon their return to their country house to invite -a few friends to a party to celebrate the occasion. Upon this occasion -Théophraste was at his best. He was in high spirits, and while passing -the good word to the gentlemen, made flattering speeches to the ladies. -The table was set in the garden under a tent where the guests assembled. -After a while the conversation turned to the latest doings in angling. -M. Lopard had caught a trout of three pounds; old M. Tartoush had cast -his line on Sunday—having caught nothing, complained that people made -too much noise shooting during the week, and drove the fish from these -waters. All joined in the conversation and gave their experiences except -M. Théophraste. - -He kept silent. He found the topic too commonplace and felt a desire to -raise its level. He wanted it to drift into some subject related to -that preoccupying his mind. After awhile he was able to get Adolphe -interested in the subject of ghosts. From ghosts the conversation led on -to spiritualism. One lady knew a somnambulist and related some strange -stories which were calculated to work upon the imagination of the -company. Adolphe, upon this, explained the spiritualistic point of view -of the phenomena of somnambulism, and cited well-known authorities. He -seemed quite in his element, and finally reached the point desired by -Théophraste, the transmigration of souls and reincarnation. - -“Is it possible,” said Marceline, “that a soul comes back to live -in its body? You have often told me so, Adolphe, but it seems to me that -one’s reason strongly repulses such an hypothesis.” “Nothing is -lost in Nature,” replied Adolphe, positively. “Neither the soul -nor the body. All is transformed, the soul as well as the body. The -reincarnation of souls at the end of a century is a doctrine which goes -back to such great antiquity that the ancient philosophers do not deny -it.” - -“If one’s soul returned to a body,” said Marceline, “one would -surely know it.” - -“Not always,” said Adolphe, “but sometimes.” “Ah, -sometimes?” asked Théophraste, who was by this time becoming -intensely interested. - -“Yes, there are cases. For instance: Ptolemy Caesar, son of Caesar and -Cleopatra, who was king of Egypt before Christ, remembered well to have -been Pythagoras, a Greek philosopher, who lived 600 years before.” - -“Impossible!” cried the ladies, and the gentlemen smiled -skeptically. - -“You need not laugh, gentlemen. It is impossible to be more serious. -Our actual transformation, which is the final word in science, is in -full accord with the theory of reincarnation. What is transformation -except the idea that living things transform themselves, progressing one -into another? Nature presents herself to us under the aspect of a spark, -elaborately perfecting without ceasing to create, to attain an ideal -which will be the millennium. Whatever Nature does for the body she does -for the soul. It can be proved, for I have studied this side a great -deal, and it is the original of all sciences. - -Monsieur Adolphe was not understood by the company, a fact of which he -was inwardly proud. He liked to feel a superiority of intellect, and -often he would raise the conversation above the level of his audience -just to gratify his vanity. He touched on many points which only need -be referred to lightly here in order to convince skeptics that the -extraordinary history of Théophraste is founded on a most scientific -basis. - -“The transmigration of souls was taught in India,” said Adolphe; -“the cradle of the genus human, then in Egypt, then in Greece. They -chanted its mysteries in the name of Orpheus. Pythagoras, who continued -the teaching, did not admit with the philosophers on the banks of the -Ganges that the soul traveled over the cycle of all animal existence. He -made it come back, for example, into a pig.” - -“There are some men,” said Madame Beulie, “who still have the -souls of pigs.” - -“Without doubt,” said Adolphe, smiling; “but what Pythagoras says -is that we must not conclude from that, that pigs have the souls of -men. Plato also adopts this doctrine. It is the first which gave in the -Phidon the proof that souls do not exile themselves forever and that -they come back to animate bodies anew.” - -“Oh, if we could only get proof of that it would be nothing for me to -die,” declared old Mlle. Tabouret, who had a mortal terror of dying. - -“Here are the proofs,” continued Adolphe. “They are two in number. -One is taken from the general law of Nature, the other from human -nature. First, Nature is governed by the laws of contraries, and from -that we see that while death succeeds life, all would end by being -absorbed in death, and Nature would one day come to an end like -Endymion. Therefore I say that we exist after death. - -“Secondly, if after consulting the general laws of Nature we turn to -our own minds, we will find there the same dogma attested by the fact of -resemblance. ‘To learn,’ said Plato, ‘is nothing but to recollect. -Since our souls learn, they must have a resemblance. What does it -recollect except to have lived, and to have lived in another body? Why -can we not believe that in leaving the body while it is animate at -this time it can animate several others in succession?’ I quote Plato -literally,” remarked Adolphe. - -Then he passed from Plato to a modern authority. “Charles Fournier has -said: ‘Where is the old man who has not truly wished to be born again, -and to use in another life the experience he has acquired in this?’ To -pretend that that desire ought not to be realized is to admit that God -can deceive us. We ought then to recognize that we have lived previous -to being what we are, and that several other lives await us. All these -lives, to the number of eight hundred and ten, are distributed between -five periods and embrace a span of eighty-one thousand years. Allan -Hardai reckons that the soul returns to another body after two or three -thousand years unless we die a violent death. Then it is quite possible -one can be reincarnated after two hundred years.” - -Adolphe had by this time drawn all around him and became the center of -attraction by his entertaining remarks. Théophraste had sat open-eyed, -listening intently, and upon hearing the last remark thought “That is -well. They may have hung me; so if I did not die that way, they may have -got rid of me by some other death more in keeping with my station in -life. Nevertheless,” he thought, “if all these people here could -only realize that they had a prince of the royal blood among them, they -would be very much astonished, and be filled with respect. But no, he -will still be Théophraste Longuet, manufacturer of rubber stamps.” - -Champagne was brought, and soon the air rang merrily with general -chatter and the explosion of corks. It was then that Marceline turned -around to Théophraste and begged him to sing the song which he was -accustomed to sing on the anniversary of their marriage. He had sung it -the day of their wedding, and on account of its beauty they had adopted -it as their wedding song. It was Lissette de Baranger. - -However, to the consternation of Marceline and all the guests, instead -of singing the song, he rose, threw his napkin on the table and said to -her in that strange voice which they heard at the Conciergerie: - -“As thou wishest, Marie Antoinette, I can refuse thee nothing.” - -“Oh, my God,” cried Marceline. “Hear what he called me in that -strange voice!” - -The guests were obviously uncomfortable, and did not know what to make -of his peculiar behavior. The song was a vulgar song of the Regency -period, and certainly not for such a gathering as was at this party. He -sang it with the old French air:= - -````Tou joli belle mimiere-- - -````Tou joli, moulin.= - - - - -CHAPTER V - -_Théophraste Remembers Himself_ - - -|THEOPHRASTE sang the song in loud, strident tones, his eyes sparkling, -glass in hand. It was with indescribable surprise that the company -received it, and despite the richness of the rhyme, the couplet was -followed by no applause. An awkward silence followed, and all the ladies -looked to Marceline for an explanation. - -What was it that Marceline could explain? Adolphe himself looked at -Théophraste in surprise; but Théophraste, as if possessed with the -devil, continued with the second couplet of the drinking song. When he -had finished, he sat down, looked around with satisfaction, and said to -Marceline, “What do you think of that, Marie Antoinette?” - -In the midst of a death-like silence preserved by all, Marceline asked -tremblingly, “Why do you call me Marie Antoinette?” - -“Because you are the most beautiful of all!” cried Théophraste. -“I appeal to Madame la Marechale de Bouilleurs, who has taste. I -appeal to all of you. And there is not one who, by the signet of the -Pope, will contradict me, neither the Eros Picards, nor the Bourbons, -nor the Burgundias, nor the Provincials, nor the Poet St. Jack, nor -Gatelard, nor Bras-de-Fer, nor Guente Noir, not even Bal-a-voir.” - -M. Théophraste had on his right old Mlle. Tabouret, and he pinched her -knee as he looked at Marceline, which nearly made that austere person -faint. No one dared to move; for the fiery look of Théophraste -frightened the whole company. He leaned amorously towards Mlle. -Tabouret, and said to her, staring at Marceline, who was by this time -weeping: “Let us see, Mlle. Tabouret, am I not right? To whom can I -compare her? Is it La Belle Laitere, or La Petite Minion; or even La -Blanche of the bowling alley; or La Belle Helene, who kept the Harp -Tavern?” - -Turning towards Adolphe, he said with great energy, “Come you, -Va-de-Bon Cœur, tell me your opinion. Look at Marie Antoinette a little -while. By the fatted calf, she puts them all in the shade: Jeannette, -the flower girl of the Royal Palace; Marie Leroy and the female Solomon, -the beauty of the Temple; Jeanne Bonnefoy, who kept the café of -the Port Marie; Manon de Versailles, the poultry girl—none of them -approach her in beauty.” - -He then leapt with one bound upon the table, and breaking the dishes, -cups and plates into a thousand pieces, held his glass over his head -and shouted, “Let us drink to the Queen of the Nymphs, Marie -Antoinette.” - -Draining his glass, he smashed it against the table and waved his hand, -which was covered with blood. By this time the party had fled in -terror, fearing that some tragedy would follow Théophraste’s strange -behavior. On superficially thinking of these curious actions one would -immediately conclude that he had gone mad or was drunk, but this was not -the case. There is another kind of sense beside common sense. It was -not because he was crazy or drunk that he could sing a song that he -had never learnt, speak a language that he had never heard, or refer to -people that he had never read about, who had been dead for centuries. -There must have been some other force working in his brain. - -Modern scientific experiments have shown with indisputable examples that -this particular case was far from unique. Ignorant people, who neither -knew how to read or write, who had never been outside their village, -have been known to give most correct answers to the medium who -questioned them in a dead language. And this has been before professors -of colleges, not before charlatans. It is difficult to explain. It is -the mystery of this life, the life hereafter. Some say that it is -a learned spirit talking through these ignorant mouths, others have -timidly expressed the opinion that such phenomena can only be explained -by the remembrance of a former life. Therefore the things which -Théophraste said and did without understanding, the Other who relives -in him at intervals understands perfectly well, and if we would -understand them we must know who this Other is. - -As to Théophraste, after the guests had disappeared from the tent, he -climbed down from the table. He found it more difficult to reach the -floor than it had been to climb upon the table, and he knelt down, -taking great precaution not to fall. He then assumed his natural self -and called Marceline. She did not answer him, and in searching for -her he found her trembling with fright in her room. He closed the door -carefully and prepared to give an explanation. She looked at him with -her large eyes, amazed, filled with tears, and he felt it his duty as a -husband not to conceal from her any longer this extraordinary phenomenon -which had been preoccupying his mind. - -The night was ideal, and after they had retired he said to her, “My -dear Marceline, you cannot understand what has happened to me this -evening, and I can assure you I don’t understand myself, but in -telling you all I know perhaps we can arrive at some conclusion.” - -He then related all the details of his visits to the cellars of the -Conciergerie. He concealed nothing, and sketched in minute details the -extraordinary feelings which had actuated him that evening, and the -unknown influence which had commanded him. At first she said nothing, -but softly moved away from him as if afraid of him; but when he came to -the document which revealed the existence of the treasures, she demanded -to see it at once. He judged then that she was taking an interest in the -adventure and felt thankful. They got up and he showed her the paper in -the light of the full moon, which was streaming into the room. Like -all those who had seen it before, she recognized the handwriting -immediately, and made the sign of the cross as if fearing some sorcery. -Marceline was not a fool, but explained that she could not help making -the sign. However, she soon became composed, and began to praise -Adolphe, who, in spite of Théophraste’s disapproval, had initiated -her into the elements of spiritualism, a science she said which would be -of some service to Théophraste in his condition. But even in the face -of that uncontestable evidence she found it difficult to believe that he -was a reincarnated spirit dating back two hundred years, until he asked -her who she thought he had been. - -Marceline didn’t think that he had been a very great personage, and in -reply to his disappointed inquiry she said: - -“Because this evening you sang in slang, and the ladies whose names -you mentioned do not belong to the aristocracy. People who frequented -La Terpidere, La Platire, Manon de Versailles, I think are not of much -account.” - -“But I also mentioned the leader of the Bouffleurs,” replied -Théophraste, “and you know that morals were so dissolute under the -Regency of the Duke of Orleans that the fashion at Court was to call the -ladies in slighting terms. What do you think of the idea of me being the -Bastard of the Regent?” - -For sole response she embraced Théophraste in delight, and recollecting -his duty on this day of celebration proved to her that if he was more -than two hundred years old, his love always remained youthful. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -_M. Lecamus Expresses His Views._ - - -|AFTER a while Marceline was able to persuade Théophraste to confide in -M. Adolphe Lecamus. She declared that Adolphe’s great experience, his -certain knowledge of the science of metaphysics, ought to be a great -help to a man who had buried treasures two hundred years before and -wished to find them again. “And,” she added, “it is he who will be -able to reveal your identity.” - -He yielded to her persuasions, and in the morning told Adolphe -everything. Adolphe was astonished, and it surprised Théophraste that a -man who professed Spiritualism should show so much emotion when face to -face with a reincarnated spirit. He said that Théophraste’s conduct -at the dinner table the day before and the words he uttered to him -before and since the visit to the Conciergerie were well calculated to -prepare him for such a confidence, but he did not expect such a thing -as this. He demanded to see the proof of such a phenomenon. Théophraste -readily showed the document, and Adolphe could not deny the authenticity -of it. He recognized the handwriting at once, and exclaimed, upon -examination, that the handwriting explained many things to him. He -had often thought how curiously the characters in Théophraste’s -handwriting differed from his real character. It had always been -difficult for him to associate the handwriting with Théophraste. - -“Really,” said Théophraste, “what character do you ascribe to -me?” - -“Well, if you will promise not to bear me any ill, I will tell you!” - -On this assurance he painted Théophraste’s character. It was that -of a kind citizen, an honest merchant, an excellent husband, but a man -incapable of showing any firmness, wit or energy. He told him also -that his timidity was excessive, and that kindness was always ready to -degenerate into weakness. The picture was not at all flattering, and -Théophraste felt a little hurt. - -“And now,” said he, “that you have told me what you think of my -character, tell me what you think of my writing.” - -Then he made observations on his handwriting which would not have failed -to make him quite angry if he had not remembered that Signor Petito had -said the same. He said: - -“Your writing expresses all the contrary sentiments in your nature as -I know it, and I can imagine nothing more antithetical than your writing -and your real character. Thus you do not write a characteristic hand, -but the handwriting of the Other.” - -Théophraste was deeply interested. He thought of the strength and -energy of the Other, he imagined that he was a great captain. However, -Adolphe’s next remark completely disillusioned him. - -“Any sign in those formations, in the pointed fashion they have of -reuniting, and in the way of growing tall and of climbing up, and of -passing each other, show energy, firmness, obstinacy, ardor, activity, -and ambition, but all for evil.” - -This dismayed him, but he exclaimed with a show of spirit: “Where is -the evil? Where is the good? If Attila had known how to write perhaps he -would have written like Napoleon.” - -“They called Attila the scourge of God.” - -“And Napoleon the scourge of man,” replied Théophraste, with -difficulty controlling his anger. - -How could it be that Théophraste Longuet could have been anything else -but an honest being before his birth, during his life, and after his -death? - -Marceline agreed with him, and Adolphe fearing that he had gone too far -made apologies. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -_Théophraste and His Black Plume_ - - -|FOR the next few days M. Lecamus and M. - -Longuet occupied themselves with evidence of this phenomenon, and were -often seen together, conversing mysteriously, in the bar-rooms and about -town, about the treason of the first of April. They left the Villa -Flots d’Azure to return to Paris, with the intention of searching the -libraries. They worked diligently for several days without any result, -until M. Longuet began to lose spirit. M. Lecamus was more patient. - -One evening as they were walking towards the Rond Point, in the Champs -Elysees, he turned around and said, “What can we do to find the -approximate place where the treasures are buried if you have not your -black plume?” Théophraste and Marceline could not understand this, -and asked for an explanation. He commented: - -“You have heard of the water witches who could discover water by the -aid of a wand, by a phenomenon which nobody has as yet been able to -explain. These witches traced water across the various beds of earth, -and by pointing the little rods, indicated where it was necessary to dig -in order to make a well. I do not despair of showing you, Théophraste, -where your treasures are buried. I will conduct you over the ground -shown in the document, and tell you where it is that you must dig to -find your treasure.” - -“Yes,” interrupted Théophraste, “but this does not explain to us -what you mean by ‘the black plume.’” - -“I am coming to that now. I am obliged to speak of Darwin. You will -understand directly. You know that Darwin devoted himself to several -celebrated experiments, of which the best known is that with pigeons. - -“Desirous of accounting for the phenomenon of heredity and the value -that he attached to it, he closely studied the breeding of pigeons, -which is sufficiently rapid to have enabled him to draw conclusions upon -an appreciable number of generations. At the end of the tenth generation -he found the same type of pigeon, with the same defects, the same -qualities, the same form, the same outline, and the same black plume -there in the same place where the first pigeon had a black feather. Very -well! With that I will prove to you that it is the same with souls as it -is with bodies. - -“At the end of the tenth generation, we find the same soul, as far -as it exists, with the same defects, the same virtues, and, as it were, -with the original black feather. While giving you this illustration, -it is necessary to distinguish between the soul which reappears thus -hereditarily, and that which comes back by reincarnation. Believing that -it is the result of a unique combination which nothing can oppose, -and, since it dwells in a case called a body, is hereditary in the same -degree as that body, an hereditary soul which comes from an ancestor -always has his black feather, while a soul which comes back by -reincarnation finds itself in a body which is in no way prepared to -receive it. The aggregate materials of this body are original, and -decaying, momentarily impose a silence on that soul. - -“But a time comes when this soul becomes the strongest, when it -speaks, when it shows itself entirely, just as the black feather does. - -“Now, Théophraste, for several generations you were the honest -gardeners in the Ferte-sous-Jonarre. But when that soul speaks in you, -you are no longer yourself. Théophraste Longuet has disappeared. It is -the Other who is there. It is the Other who has the gesture, the manner, -the action, the black feather. It is the other who recalls the mystery -of the treasure, it is the Other who remembers the Other.” - -“Oh! This is admirable!” exclaimed Théophraste, who was so deeply -moved that he could hardly refrain from weeping with excitement. “And -now I understand what you mean by my black feather. My black feather -returns to me when I am the Other.” - -“And he will help you then, my friend,” declared Adolphe with -conviction. “But until we have released the unknown who is hidden -in Théophraste Longuet, and until he lives with sufficient strength, -audacity, and liberty, until he is resuscitated, in a word, until he -appears to us with his ‘black feather,’ we will confine ourselves -to the study of that interesting document which you brought from the -Conciergerie. Let us make a plan for penetrating the mystery. We will -find out exactly where the treasures are buried, but we must wait for -the spirit who dwells in you to say to us, ‘It is there.’” - -“My friend,” said Marceline, overflowing with admiration, “you -talk like a book, and I wonder that you have not more often tried to -teach us these things, for we are so ignorant. You must not leave a -stone unturned to find the treasure. I do not fear the destruction of -the earth on account of the object of our search.” - -Adolphe turned around to reprove Marceline for her flippancy, but at -this moment M. Milfroid, the Commissioner of Police, approached, and -Adolphe rose to greet his friend. - -Adolphe introduced M. Milfroid to M. and Mme. Longuet. He was a man -of about forty years of age, elegantly dressed, immaculate gloves, a -silvery ringlet of hair on the white forehead. He advanced, smiling and -bowing. - -“We have often heard our friend M. Adolphe speak of you,” said -Marceline. “Your fame has gone before you.” - -“Oh, madame, I have known you for a long time. Every time I meet M. -Lecamus he speaks to me of his friends of the Rue Gerauds, and in such -terms that it has been my greatest desire to have the happiness of being -presented to you.” - -Marceline was conquered by such gallant manners. “I hear that you play -the violin very well,” she said. - -“I am equally interested in philosophy,” said M. Milfroid. “An -interest which I owe to M. Adolphe, who is continually in dispute with -me over the immortality of the soul, and other psychic matters. He has -really made a convert of me.” - -“Monsieur,” said Théophraste, who had not yet taken part in the -conversation, “Adolphe and I like to converse about serious matters, -also. We were just speaking of the relations between the soul and the -body, and the different ways that the soul has of behaving with the -body.” - -“Ah!” said M. Milfroid, who desired to shine before Marceline, -“are you able to distinguish between matter and mind, or the material -and the spiritual? Matter and mind are the same thing in the eyes of -science. That is to say, they constitute alike one unit, one force, -produce at one time the phenomenon of cause and effect, tending to -one end, the progressive steps of existence. You are the only ones, -gentlemen, to still make that old distinction between matter and -mind.” - -After a while they rose and returned through the Place de la Concorde. -At the entrance to the Rue Royale, there was a crowd of people, shouting -and gesticulating. Théophraste, an old Parisian, wanted to know what -was taking place, and flung himself into the crowd. - -“Look out for pickpockets,” Marceline called to him. - -“Oh, madame,” said Monsieur Milfroid, the Commissioner of Police, -“there are no pickpockets when I am about.” - -“It is true. We should be in no danger when you are here.” - -“I do not know about that,” said Adolphe, looking about them. “My -friend here appears more dangerous to me than all the pickpockets on -earth.” At this they all laughed. - -Théophraste made them wait ten minutes before he appeared, and then he -announced that it was a coachman who had gotten his wheels locked with -an automobile, and could not separate them. - -Marceline felt annoyed at having been kept waiting so long on such a -slight pretext. However, her thoughts were diverted in doing the honors -of a hostess, and she invited M. Milfroid to dinner. - -During the dinner many pleasantries were passed, and M. Milfroid -excelled in complimenting Marceline. - -Suddenly, he became uneasy, and plunging his hands in his pockets, -looked vainly for his handkerchief. After a final and useless search, he -passed his forefinger under his moustache, and sighed, declaring that it -did not matter. - -However, at that moment Théophraste wiped his mouth, and Marceline -asked him where he had found such a beautiful handkerchief. M. Mil-froid -at once recognized it as his own, and thinking it just a piece of -pleasantry, took the handkerchief from Théophraste. However, feeling in -his left side, he became pale and exclaimed, “Good God! I have lost my -pocketbook. There were five hundred francs in it.” M. Milfroid did not -regret losing the five hundred francs, but he found himself ridiculed by -Adolphe, and Marceline teased him gently and laughed prettily. They were -all poking fun at him, and this made him furious. - -“M. Milfroid,” said Théophraste, “if you need any money for the -evening I can lend it to you,” and he drew a wallet from his pocket. -M. Milfroid uttered a cry: it was his! M. Milfroid took the wallet from -him as he had done the handkerchief, and alleging numerous engagements, -he took his leave. Before going down the stairs, he said to his friend -Adolphe, who followed him, “These are nice kind of people you have -introduced me to.” - -When Adolphe returned to the dining-room, Théophraste was emptying -his pockets. On the table there lay three watches, six handkerchiefs, -several pocketbooks, containing large sums of money, and eighteen -checks. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -_An Appeal for Help_ - - -|THE important events of this story and its hero have occupied us to -such an extent that we have not found time to present Monsieur Lecamus -as he should be. The little that we know of him does not effect our -sympathy. The place that he occupies in the house of Longuet, which is -eminently immoral; the cynicism with which he deceives an innocent soul; -the little danger that he seems to run in accomplishing the larceny— -these are good reasons why we have deferred showing our contempt for -him. It may be said that we have judged hastily, and have not allowed -him to plead extenuating circumstances. The principal one, and the one -which it would be well for us to dwell upon, is that he really liked -Théophraste above everybody else. He loved him with his faults, his -weaknesses, his ingenuousness, the confidence he had in him, and above -all, the admiration Théophraste had for him. There was no sacrifice he -would not make for Théophraste, and I daresay that if Théophraste -had any pecuniary troubles, which after all are the only troubles which -really count here below, Adolphe Lecamus would open his purse, and give -to him freely. Adolphe loved Théophraste even above Marceline; and -although I do not pretend to deal here with psychology, I find myself -confronted with a case which is much less common than one would be -inclined to believe. For Adolphe loved Marceline because he had made her -his mistress. - -If he had learned, by some supernatural warning, that Théophraste would -some day learn his real position in the household, he would only have -respected Marceline. “But,” he thought to himself, “Théophraste -will never know anything about it, and as unknown evils do not exist, I -will be the lover of the wife of my best friend.” - -These lines are necessary, that the reader may understand properly -the knavish tricks of the lover. But we must understand distinctly -Adolphe’s devotion to Théophraste. - -After the departure of the Commissioner, they all set themselves to -consider what was to be done with the articles which Théophraste had -brought home with him. At first they all sat silently looking at the -objects, no one wishing to break the silence, until Théophraste said, -“I have nothing more in my pockets. I really believe I have got my -black plume.” - -Marceline and Adolphe were startled by this, but still did not say -anything, and waited for Théophraste to give some explanation. Then he -declared it was in the crowd at the Place de la Concorde. He went in and -out among the crowd, and it was a very simple matter for him. - -“What must we do?” asked Adolphe in a grave voice?” - -“What do you wish me to do?” replied Théophraste, who by this time -had begun to confess. “You do not think that I am going to keep them! -It is not my habit to keep things that do not belong to me. I am an -honest man and have never wronged anybody. You must take them all to M. -Milfroid, your friend, the Commissioner of Police. He can easily restore -them to the owners.” - -“What can I say to him?” - -“Whatever you wish,” burst out Théophraste, who was becoming -impatient. “Did the honest coachman who found a purse and fifty -thousand francs in his carriage think about what he should say when he -took them to the commissariat? He simply said, ‘I have found them in -the carriage.’ That was sufficient. They even rewarded him for it. You -must say, ‘My friend Longuet charged me to bring this to you. He found -them in his pockets, and he does not wish a reward.’” - -Marceline touched Adolphe with her foot under the table. This was her -customary way of secretly drawing Adolphe’s attention. She wanted to -signify to him that she thought Théophraste was demented, and her look -quite showed it. Adolphe understood. He knitted his brows and scratched -the tip of his nose. He felt that now was the time to act. He -looked from Théophraste to the pocket-books, and coughing, said, -“Théophraste, this is not natural. We have to explain ourselves. We -must understand. You must not close your eyes to this misfortune. You -must open them wide, and bring your will to fight it.” - -“Of what misfortune are you speaking?” asked Théophraste, becoming -frightened. - -“Well, is it not a misfortune to have things in your pocket that do -not belong to you?” - -“I do not understand. You seem to be accusing me of being dishonest. -I am an honest man, and whatever I have done dishonestly, I have done -against my will.” - -Having said these words, he fell back in his chair in a dead faint, and -a deep silence fell over them all. - -When Théophraste came out of his stupor, his eyes were full of tears. -He motioned to his wife and his friend to come nearer to him. When -they were beside him, he said, showing pitiable emotion, “I feel that -Adolphe is right. A great misfortune menaces me, I know not what! I know -not what! My God! I know not what! I know not what!” - -Adolphe and Marceline attempted to console him, but he wept more. Then -Marceline began to weep. - -In his emotion, Théophraste grasped them both by the hand, and cried, -“Swear never to abandon me, no matter what happens, for, oh! some day -I shall need your help.” They swore to him in good faith. - -Adolphe then asked to see the document. As he spread the document before -him, he said, “Théophraste, tell me, do you ever have dreams?” - -“It is very probable, but I only dream a very little.” - -“Never?” insisted Adolphe. - -“Scarcely ever. However, I remember to have dreamed four or five times -in my life, perhaps because I woke each time in the middle of my dream, -and it was always the same dream. But what possible interest can there -be in this, to the subject which is occupying us now, Adolphe?” - -Adolphe continued: “Dreams have never been explained by science. -Science attributes them all to the effects of the imagination, but it -does not give us the reason for these clear, distinct visions which -appear to us sometimes. Thus it explains a thing which is not known -by another which is no better understood. It says that dreams are the -recollection of things which took place in a former life. But even -admitting this solution—which is a doubtful one—we still have -to find out what is the magic mirror that serves so well to keep the -imprint of things. Moreover, how can one explain visions of real things, -events that one has never seen in a former state, and of which one -has never even thought? Who can affirm that these are not visions of -retrospective past events in a former life?” - -“That is right, my dear Adolphe,” said Théophraste, “and I ought -to confess the things that I have dreamed. I have dreamed them three -times as I said before, things that were perhaps true in the past, or -will be in the future. I have never seen them in a waking state in my -present life.” - -“You understand me,” said Adolphe. “Relate to me the things that -you have dreamed of and have never seen.” - -“Oh, that will not take long. But so much the better, for it is not -very cheerful: I dreamed that I was married to a woman named Marie -Antoinette, and then----” - -“And then?” interrupted Adolphe, who had never taken his eyes off -the document. - -“And then I cut her up in pieces.” - -“Oh, horrors!” cried Marceline. - -“It is horrible,” continued Théophraste, shaking his head. “Then -I put the pieces in a basket and threw them into the Seine by the little -bridge of the Hotel Dieu. I awoke then, and you may be sure I was not -sorry.” - -Adolphe struck the table a hard blow with his fist. “It is -frightful,” he cried in a harsh voice, looking at Théophraste. - -“Is it not?” said Marceline, shuddering. - -Adolphe read the first lines of the document. - -“Oh, how dreadful it is!” he continued, groaning. “Alas, alas! I -understand all, now.” - -“What do you understand?” asked Théophraste in a frightened voice, -following Adolphe’s finger as he traced the first two lines of the -document. - -“This,” said Adolphe. “‘Moi et! I buried my, treasures.’ And you do not -know what that ‘et’ means? Well, I won’t tell you until I am quite sure. -I will know to-morrow. Théophraste, tomorrow at two o’clock be at the -Rue Guinegaud and the Rue Mazarin. I am going to take these articles to -M. Milfroid’s house. He will restore them to their owners, and we will -prove to him that there are pickpockets even when the Commissioner is -present. Adieu, my friend, adieu. Above all take courage. Take courage.” -Adolphe shook Théophraste’s hand with the warmth of a comrade, and -departed. - -Théophraste did not sleep that night. While Marceline reposed -peacefully by his side, he lay with eyes wide open in the darkness. His -respiration was irregular, and he sighed often. Anxiety lay heavy upon -him. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -_The Portrait_ - - -|DAY broke over the city. A cloudy day, with a mist that enveloped -everything in a sinister manner. The sun tried in vain to penetrate that -sombre atmosphere. - -Mid-day showed a dark red ball, rolling ingloriously in a sulphurous -light. Such was the picture of the heavens that day. - -Théophraste sprang out of bed early, and awoke Marceline suddenly by -an excess of foolish hilarity. Marceline inquired the reason for such -strange joyfulness. He said that he could not help laughing at the idea -of M. Milfroid, the Commissioner of Police, receiving back the stolen -goods which had been pickpocketed right before his very eyes. “My dear -Marceline,” he said, “it is foolish, the way people carry the money -in their pockets. If you cannot put your hand in, slip a straw, filled -with glue, in. It is an excellent scheme for extricating money from -people’s pockets.” - -Marceline sat up and gazed at him. She could not understand, as he never -looked more natural in his life, and yet he was saying peculiar things, -and his words were most unnatural. - -“Théophraste, you frighten me,” she cried, and in her fear, -groaned, “My poor child.” - -Théophraste grew terribly angry. He threw himself at his wife, and -threatened to strike her. “You know perfectly well that I do not -wish to be called a child since the death of Jeanneton-Venes. I am no -child.” - -Marceline swore that she would never do it again, and in the depths -of her soul regretted the unlucky moment which had given her husband -proprietorship of a document which had brought into the household -such fears and such follies. She knew neither Marie Antoinette, nor -Jeanneton-Venes, although he continually referred to them. He had a -familiar way of expressing himself about these women which made her -uneasy, and finally the unexpected sentences, spoken by Théophraste, -and his actions, made her dread the incomprehensible Théophraste of -two hundred years ago. It made her long for the former Théophraste, -so kind, so easy to understand. Then she gave herself up to bitter -reflections upon the theory of reincarnation. - -Théophraste finished dressing, and then announcing that he would -not breakfast at home, said that he had a rendezvous with his friend -Va-de-Bon Cœur, at the corner of the Rue Mazarin and Rue Guinegaud, -to do a good turn for M. de Francouse, but as that rendezvous was after -breakfast, he intended enjoying the air in the Moulin de Chopinette. - -“You will leave my green umbrella here,” he said, “and I will take -my black feather.” Then, putting the final touches to his cravat, he -went out. On the landing he met Signor Petito, the Italian professor, -who was also going downstairs. Signor Petito bowed very low, complained -of the state of the weather, and complimented Théophraste on his -appearance. - -Théophraste answered in a less amiable tone, as he was not desiring the -Signor’s company, and he demanded of him if Madame Petito could not be -induced to learn another air on the piano than “Carnival de Venice.” -But Signor Petito replied, smiling, that she was already studying -“Love’s Destiny,” but in future she would study only the pieces -which would please M. Longuet. He then asked, “Which way are you -going?” - -“For a turn in the Moulin de Chopinette; but the weather is too bad, -so I will have to go down to the Porcherons.” - -“To the Porcherons?” Signor Petito was going to ask, but he changed -his mind. “Where is the Porcherons?” he asked. “I will go, too.” - -“Aha, indeed!” said M. Longuet, glancing curiously at Signor Petito. -“You too will go to the Porcherons?” - -“Go there or somewhere else,” said Signor Petito, pleasantly, and he -followed Théophraste. - -At the end of a short silence Signor Petito ventured to ask, “Where -are your treasures, M. Longuet?” - -Théophraste faced about suddenly. “What has put such an idea into -your head?” he exclaimed. - -“Do you not remember the day that you brought the specimen of your -handwriting and asked for my opinion?” - -“I remember, and you were wrong,” said Théophraste drily, as he -opened his umbrella. - -Signor Petito, in nowise discouraged, placed himself under the shelter -of Théophraste’s umbrella. “Oh! M. Longuet, I did not say that to -annoy you.” - -They arrived at the corner of the Avenue Tre-daine. Théophraste was in -very bad humor. - -“Monsieur,” he said, “I have an appointment at the tavern of the -Veau-qui-telle, by the side of the Chapel Porcherons, here, you see.” - -“But we are at the Chapel Notre Dame de Lor-rete, and not the -Porcherons, at all.” - -Théophraste disregarded Petito’s remark, and suddenly said to him, -“Do you know that there is a price on my head?” - -Signor Petito seemed taken aback by this sudden change of tone. - -“It will cost them dear, though, to get my head,” said Théophraste. -“Do you know how much it will cost, Signor, the head of L’Enfant? -No? Very well. I am going to tell you, since the occasion has presented -itself, and I am going to tell you the whole story, which may be -profitable to you.” - -Then, without any preparation, he related in the most natural way -possible, his existence previous to his present one. - -“My head is worth 20,000 pounds,” said he, “and you know it very -well.” And as he pronounced these words he struck the table such a -blow that Signor Petito recoiled instinctively. - -“Here is the history of it all. I was walking, two hundred years -ago, in the Rue de Vauregard, with my hands in my pocket, without arms, -without even a sword, with the most honest intentions in the world, when -a man met me. He bowed almost to the ground, and told me that my face -reminded him so much of some one he knew. He was called ‘Old Man -Bidel,’ or ‘Bidel the Good-natured,’ and he said that he had a -secret to confide to me. - -I encouraged him by a friendly tap on the shoulder, and he confided his -secret to me. He whispered in my ear that the Regent had promised twenty -thousand pounds to whoever would arrest the Enfant, and he knew where -the Enfant was hiding. That I looked to him like a man of courage, and -that he, with my aid, would do anything to get the 20,000 pounds. He -said that he would divide the reward. - -“The old man Bidel was on the wrong track, Signor Petito, for I also -knew where to find L’Enfant, seeing that I was that person.” - -Signor Petito did not wish to believe any of this, as he could see -for himself that M. Longuet had been out of infancy a good many years. -However, he dared not say anything. Théophraste continued, “I replied -to the old man Bidel, that it was a happy chance and that I thanked -Heaven for putting him in my path, and I made him conduct me to the -place where he could find the Enfaut. He said to me, ‘To-night, the -Enfant sleeps at the Capucine, in the Tavern Suite, which bears as a -sign the Cross of the St. Hester.’ - -“It was true, Signor Petito, the old man Bidel was very well informed. -I congratulated him, and we passed just then a cutlery shop, and I -bought a small knife, much to the astonishment of Bidel, who asked me -what I planned to do with such a weapon. I replied to him that with a -small knife like this one could kill a fly, and I plunged it into his -heart. He sank down, raised his arms wildly for a few moments, and -died.” - -Signor Petito, who at first had moved away from Théophraste, now rose -and ran to the door, and was glad to get out of sight. - -M. Longuet drank his wine, got up and went to the Bousset Brewery, where -Mme. Barth was standing, making up her books. He said to her, “Mme. -Taconet-------” - -Mme. Barth demanded why he called her Mine. Taconet, but he disregarded -her question, and continued, “If Signor Petito comes here again, you -will tell him for me that the first time I find him in my way, I will -cut his ears off.” Saying this, Théophraste fondled the handle of his -umbrella as one grasps the handle of a dagger. - -There was no doubt about it, he had his black plume. He had become the -Other entirely. - -The fog was still thick and he did not think of breakfasting yet. He -walked into the sulphurous mist like one in a dream. He crossed the -whole of the Quarter of An tin, and that which was formerly the Avenue -L’Enrique, until he came under the shadows of the towers of Trinity, -which he called the Chateau du Coq. On his arrival at the St. Lazare, he -believed that he was at the Petite Pologue. - -But little by little the fog cleared away, and his dream disappeared -with it. He had the most exact idea of things when he crossed -the Point Royale, and by the time he had set foot on the left bank, he -was again the honest Théophraste, and had only the vaguest idea of that -which had happened on the right bank. But he could remember this, -and when he questioned himself thoroughly, he began to experience the -different conditions or states of the soul. He discovered in himself -three distinct states. First, that which resulted from his life as an -actuality, the honest merchant; second, that which resulted from the -sudden and momentary resurrection of the Other; and third, that -which resulted from memory. The recollection was to him like a third -Théophraste, who related to the first what he had known of the second. -This resurrection of Théophraste’s was a terrible thing. - -On crossing the Bridge he hurried beyond the Rue Guinegaud. He did -not care to pass by the corner of the Rue Mazarin, he knew not why. He -turned the corner by the Hotel Monniare, and almost ran into Adolphe, -who was waiting for him there. - -“Have you ever heard of a person called L’Enfant, my dear -Adolphe?” he asked. - -“Oh, yes, yes,” said Aldolphe, “I have heard of him. I even know -his real name, his family name.” - -“Ah, what is it?” anxiously inquired Théophraste. - -Adolphe for reply pushed Théophraste into the hallway of an old house, -in the Rue Guinegard, a few steps from the Hotel de la Monniare. They -climbed a tottering staircase, and entered a room in which the curtains -were drawn. Somebody had spent the night in the room. - -On a little table in the corner, the trembling flame of a wax candle lit -up a portrait. It was the picture of a man about thirty years of age. -He had a robust figure, high forehead, strong nose, a smooth chin, and -large mouth and moustache. His thick hair was covered by a coarse woolen -cap, and he wore a coat over a coarse linen shirt, which appeared to be -a prison garb. - -“Wait,” said Théophraste, without raising his tone, “how is it -that my portrait is in this house?” - -“Your picture?” asked Adolphe. “Are you sure?” - -“Who could be more sure of it than I?” said Théophraste again, -without being excited. - -“Very well,” said M. Lecamus, with emotions that it would be hard to -describe. “That portrait, which is your portrait, is the portrait of -Cartouche.” When M. Lecamus turned to see the effect his words would -produce on his friend, he saw Théophraste stretched on the floor in a -dead swoon. - -For a long time he worked to bring him to. He blew out the candle and -opened the windows, allowing the good air to come in. Théophraste came -to himself, and his first words were, “Adolphe, above all things do -not speak of this to my wife.” - - - - -CHAPTER X - -_Cartouche’s Past_ - - -|THE following day Théophraste and Marceline returned to the quiet life -of the Villa Flots-d’Azure. Théophraste had not mentioned a word of -the discovery, and his wife refrained from questioning him. Marceline -knew nothing yet of the terrible discovery. Théophraste’s face was -full of consternation, and it was evident to Marceline that he had -terrible things on his mind. - -Adolphe was to join them in a few days; two days passed very quietly in -the villa. Marceline attended to her household duties, and Théophraste -silently prepared his fishing tackle, as he had promised Adolphe a few -days’ fishing in the Marne. On the third day, Théophraste, who had -passed a good night, showed a less agitated countenance, and began to -smile and was cheered at the prospect of Adolphe’s coming. M. Lecamus -arrived before noon, and they both received him with delight. - -Taking their places at lunch their conversation turned on angling, but -nothing was said of the mysterious proceedings of the week before. After -lunch they prepared for their fishing expedition; Théophraste took care -of the lines, the rods and the bait, and Adolphe took the nets. - -Going down to the water’s edge, Théophraste turned to Adolphe and -said, “Tell me, have you any news? While we are fishing I will listen -to you. I have prepared a lot of sport, but I don’t think we will do -very much to-day, if you have important news for me.” - -Adolphe replied, “There is some good, and some bad news. But I must -tell you that there is more bad than good. No doubt many stories have -been invented about you, but the real truth is not entirely pleasant.” - -“Are you well informed, and is your information authentic?” - -“I have been to the very fountain-head, I have seen the authentic -documents. I am going to tell you what I know. If I am mistaken, correct -me.” - -Théophraste threw his half-prepared bait into the water, and said, -“Go on. I must have a full explanation.” - -“First,” said Adolphe, “you were born in the month of October, -1693. You were called Louis Dominique Cartouche.” - -“But it is needless to call me Cartouche, no one need know that. Call -me L’Enfant. I like it much better and no one will understand.” - -“Yes,” insisted Adolphe, “but you know that your name is -Cartouche. It is not an assumed name. It is said that you studied hard -in Clermont College. That you were the schoolfellow of Voltaire, and -there is a legend that while you learned to read, in the course of time, -thanks to the gypsies who taught you reading, you were never able to -write.” - -“Well, that’s funny,” cried Théophraste, “for if I never -learned to write, how could I have drawn up the document in the dungeon -of the Conciergerie?” - -“At the time of your trial, you declared that you did not know how -to write. You signed your depositions with a cross and you have never -written a line to show who it was.” - -“But,” Théophraste said, “it was never necessary to write. In my -position I should have dreaded to compromise myself. But the document is -there.” - -“Evidently. Let us return to your eleventh year. One day you were in -the Saint Laurent Faire, with some comrades, when you fell in with a -band of gypsies. The gypsies carried you away. They stole you. They -taught you the play of the cudgel, the sword, to shoot a pistol, -to jump, and to rob the pockets of the bourgeoisie without being -discovered. At your twelfth year you were an adept at this, and without -an equal for bringing back handkerchiefs, snuff boxes, and watches. The -band of gypsies found themselves at Rouen, when little Louis Dominique -fell ill. He was taken to a hospital in Rouen, and it was there that an -uncle discovered him. He recognized him, and swore to restore him to his -parents.” - -Here Théophraste interrupted with a word as to his uncle, and Lecamus -becoming impatient, begged him to cease his continual interruptions, -declaring it would take some time to tell the story of Cartouche if he -would not listen to it silently. - -“I would like to see you in my place,” said Théophraste. - -Adolphe continued: “In a while Cartouche became the chief of a band -of brigands. He commanded about three thousand men, had more than -fifty lieutenants; it was their habit to dress exactly alike, in -cinnamon-colored coats, and doublets of silk and amaranthine, showing a -piece of black taffeta underneath the left eye. They brought against him -more than one hundred and fifty personal assassinations, and put a price -upon his head. He was tried and broken on the wheel.” “Upon hearing -this Théophraste showed evident signs of alarm. He dropped his fishing -tackle, losing it in the swift current of the river. He could not give -his mind to fishing any more that day, and so they resolved to give -up the attempt. They did not wait for sundown, to return to the Villa -Flots-d’Azure. Swinging their meagre spoils lightly in their nets -they sadly retraced their steps. Cartouche filled their minds, and their -return journey was occupied in thoughts of this dual personality. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -_Signor Petito Appears_ - - -|WHILE waiting for the stage from Crecy to stop for them, they called -at the wayside inn, and had some refreshment, while Adolphe took up the -story of L’Enfant at the point where he had left off. - -“That good uncle,” said he, “had fellow-feeling for one of his -family, and he rescued young Cartouche from his miserable lot and made -him return to his parents. His father was a cooper by trade, and -young Louis, having profited by his youthful misfortunes, swore that -henceforth he would be a good son and a diligent apprentice. He helped -his father to make casks, working from daybreak to sunset. - -“He was frequently seen, during lunch hour, amusing his companions -with pretty tricks of sleight-of-hand which he had learned during the -few months he had been with the gypsies. He had become so adept at -this science that on special occasions little Louis and his family were -invited to dinners and suppers before friends, for they looked forward -to the enjoyment of these tricks of Louis’, and he became a great -success in the quarter, and he, on his part, was proud of his growing -renown. - -“In the meantime he had attained that happy period where the least -sensitive of human beings feel the beating of their hearts awaken to the -most tender sentiments. Louis Dominique was in love. The object of his -affections was a charming needlewoman of the Rue Porte Foin, coquettish, -with blue eyes, golden hair, and a fine figure. I have said that this -needlewoman was a coquette. She loved dress, jewels and laces, and it -was her desire always to be better clothed than her companions. The -modest income of Louis Dominique did not permit of his paying for the -extravagant fancies of his poor seamstress, and so Cartouche stole from -his father. The latter soon found out and took steps by which he could -have his boy placed in the Convent of the Lazaretto, in the Faubourg St. -Denis.” - -“Ah,” said Théophraste, “instead of combating with kindness the -wickedness of this child, they drive him to despair by incarcerating him -where he only meets with bad examples, and where the feeling of -revolt increases, and boils over, stifling all other feelings in his -inexperienced mind. I wager that if they had not put Louis in the House -of Correction, that all the trouble would never have happened.” - -“Reassure yourself,” said Adolphe. “Cartouche was never shut up in -the Convent of the Lazaretto, for while his father had discovered this -crime of Louis’, he did not tell him of it; but one Sunday morning, he -asked his son to take a walk with him. Dominique readily acquiesced, and -they were soon seen walking down the street together. - -“‘Where are we going, father?’ asked Louis. ‘No matter where. By -way of the Faubourg St. Denis.’ Louis pricked up his ears. He knew that -at the end of the Faubourg St. Denis was the Lazaretto, and he also knew -that sometimes fathers escorted their boys to the Lazaretto. - -“He at once felt suspicious, for his conscience was not altogether -tranquil, and when they arrived at the corner of the Faubourg St. Denis, -and the battlement of the St. Lazaretto rose before them, it seemed to -him that his father looked unnatural, and he felt uncomfortable at once. -He told his father to continue his walk, slowly, without hurrying, as he -wished to stop at the corner. - -When his father returned, the son had disappeared, and he never saw him -again.” - -About this time the coach had arrived, and Adolphe discontinued his tale -while they mounted to the top. Théophraste recognized M. Bache, and -Mme. Froude, and he at once bowed to them, but they did not respond. -He called them by name, but they remained mute. Théophraste could not -understand this, and turned to ask Adolphe what he thought of it, and -why they did not recognize him. - -“That does not astonish me at all,” said Adolphe. “It is no wonder -to me, since the dinner the other day, that nobody bows to you. Your -extraordinary behavior was enough to upset them all. Do you not remember -how you were mounted on the table and sang that vulgar song? There were -some young ladies present, Miles. Froude and Tabouret.” - -“Ah,” said Théophraste, “that accounts for Mme. Bache’s -pretending not to see me the other day in Paris, when she called at the -Pharmacy Crecy and I happened to meet her there. Never mind, Adolphe, -continue where you left off about my father. What happened to him?” - -“Well, you forgot about your seamstress at the Rue Point Foin, and you -thought of her no more. - -She worried over your disappearance about a fortnight, and then got -somebody else, as is done under similar circumstances to-day. The -necessity to make your way in the world recalled your old talents, and -soon you were robbing passers-by of the things in their pockets. You -operated so adroitly, that you incurred the admiration of a great -sharper, who having seen you work, stopped you at the corner of the Rue -Gallaud, and demanded of you your money or your life. ‘You shall have -my purse only when you have my life,’ said you to him, and you drew -your sword, a small sword that you had taken the day before from a -French Guardsman. The great sharper flattered you upon your courage, and -then upon your dexterity, and he begged you to accompany him home to the -Rue Bout du Monde. He told you on the way that he sought an associate, -and you could do the business. He also told you that he had a wife, -and the wife had a very pretty sister. After a while you married this -sister, though neither notary nor priest was sent for. The attachment -did not last over six months, because the sharper, his wife, and his -sister-in-law were sent to the gallows. You had already left them by -this time, and had joined the army. You were caught one day, drunk, by -a recruiting officer, and he took you to the barracks, and made you sign -on.” - -By this time it was seven o’clock, and Adolphe interrupted the course -of his recital at that point, as they had to alight from the coach. - -“Tell me,” said Théophraste, “I am curious to know how I was -built. Was I a handsome man, a tall man?” - -“They represent you thus at the theater, in M. d’Ennury’s play, -but on the contrary, according to the poet Granvel, you were a conceited -man, and always fond of singing your own praises. You were dark, lean, -small, but of great courage. You were enterprising and bold, and very -alert.” - -“You have not told me,” said Théophraste, “how you got that -picture in the house on the Rue Guinegaud.” - -“It is a copy of a photograph by Nedar. He photographed a wax mask, -which ought to resemble you, as that mask was made from your face by the -order of the Regent. Nedar photographed that mask in 1859. The mask was -found in the Chateau de St. Germain.” - -“Oh! I want to see it,” cried Théophraste—“to touch it. We must -go to St. Germain to-morrow.” - -By this time they had reached the house, and Marceline, in neat -dishabille, smilingly opened the door and greeted them. - -Théophraste had a great desire to see and touch that waxen mask that -had been made from his face, and the desire was still greater when -Adolphe entered into the details of it. He told him that it had been in -the Chateau de St. Germain en Laye, since the 24th of April, 1849. - -“It appears that the portrait was given by an abbot, one Viallier, to -be inherited by one Richot, an old officer of the Hussars of King Louis -XVI. M. Richot died at St. Germain. He owned the portrait for many -years, one most precious, especially as it had belonged to the royal -family. The wax mask was moulded by a Florentine artist some days before -Cartouche’s punishment. The head-dress was a woolen or coarse felt -cap, his clothing was a shirt of very coarse linen, a waistcoat, and -another vest, and a doublet of black camelot. But the most remarkable -thing of all was that Cartouche’s hair was cut off of his corpse -and pasted on the waxen mask. The whole was shut up in a gilded wooden -chest, large and deep, of beautiful workmanship. A Venetian glass -protected the portrait, and one could still see the escutcheon of the -arms of France on the chest.” - -Théophraste asked Adolphe where he had found such precise details, -and was told that they were the result of two days’ searching in the -forgotten archives of the most noted libraries and museums of Paris. -There he found his hair, his moustache, and his clothes, two hundred -years old. - -In spite of the horror which these relics of a man so monstrous ought to -have inspired in him, Théophraste could not control his impatience to -see them, to touch them. Here was Théophraste Longuet, whose name was -synonymous with honor, who had always feared the shedding of blood, -cherishing in his heart the coarse remains of the greatest brigand on -earth. When he had again command of his senses, he did not find in the -bottom of his soul a feeling of absolute despair, but of great pity, a -pity so keenly felt that he did not weep only for himself, Théophraste, -but also moved him to pity Cartouche. He asked himself which was the -more dominant, honest Théophraste, carrying with him the brigand -Cartouche, or the brigand Cartouche, shut up within honest Théophraste. -“It is necessary that we should understand each other,” he said -aloud. He felt that he should not have uttered that sentence which must -have seemed odd, but which expressed so well the double and yet unique -preoccupation of his soul that he could not restrain himself. A great -light dawned upon him at the same time, that recalled the theory of -reincarnation that had been explained to him by M. Lecamus. He connected -reincarnation with the natural evolution of things, and of individuals, -that which was no other than transformation. “Does it not point to -the fact that souls reincarnate themselves in order to pass according to -natural law to advancement to a better state? It is the progressive step -of being. Well, the natural law which certain persons call God, did not -find anything better on the earth than the body of Théophraste Longuet -through which to make the criminal soul of Cartouche evolve to a better -state.” - -When that idea got a firm hold on him, in place of the deepest despair, -which had led him to faint, he found himself prompted by a sentiment -almost akin to pride. He was entrusted with the destiny of the world. -He, the humble but honest Théophraste, entrusted with the regeneration -in ideal splendor, of the soul of shadows and of the bloody Louis -Dominique Cartouche, called L’Enfant. He accepted this unexpected task -willingly, since he could not do otherwise, and he put himself at once -on his guard. Instead of saying, “It is necessary for us to understand -each other,” he immediately ordered Cartouche to obey Théophraste, -and he promised himself to lead him a life so hard that he could not -say without smiling, “Poor Cartouche.” He had charged M. Lecamus to -write everything possible about Louis Dominique Cartouche in such a way -that he could not be ignorant of anything that could be known of his -life. With that and with what his black feather and his memory had -taught him, he justly thought he could resist in spirit the Other -One, which would allow him to act accordingly. He partly confided his -reflections to Adolphe, who approved of them, but warned him against a -tendency he had to separate Théophraste from Cartouche. - -“You must not forget,” said he, “that they are one. You have the -instincts of the gardeners of the Ferte-sous-Jonarre. Those instincts -are good, but you have the soul of Cartouche, which is detestable. Take -care. You are his declared enemy, the question is raised as to who will -vanquish— the soul of former years, or the instincts of today.” - -Théophraste asked Adolphe if the soul of Cartouche was really -altogether detestable, and was happy to learn that it had some good -points. Adolphe said that Cartouche had expressly forbidden to kill or -even wound passers-by without cause. When he operated in Paris with some -of his bands, and they brought victims to him, he spoke to them with so -much politeness and kindness, that they always returned a part of the -booty to him. Sometimes they would limit matters to a simple exchange of -clothes. When he found letters or pictures in the pockets of the coats -thus exchanged, he ran after the ex-proprietors to return them. It was -a maxim of that extraordinary individual, that a man ought not to -be robbed twice in the same night, nor were they to be too severely -treated, so as not to prevent the Parisians from going out in the -evening. Therefore he ordered his men to take the utmost care not to -kill any one without good reason. At this time the man was not yet -thoroughly wicked. Up to then he had always had a reason for every act. -It is to be regretted, however, that he had had one hundred and fifty -reasons to assassinate. - -Let us return to the wax mask. - -Théophraste and Adolphe were going down the stairs in the station -of St. Germain-en-Laye, when suddenly Théophraste thought he saw a -familiar figure ahead of him, among a group of travelers. Moved by a -feeling over which he had no control, he ran rapidly towards the group, -but the figure had disappeared. Where had he seen that figure before? It -was so repulsive to him. Adolphe asked him the cause of his agitation, -and he recovered himself at once. - -“I would swear,” said Théophraste, “that it was Signor Petito, -the Italian professor of the floor below. What did Signor Petito come to -St. Germain for? I do not want to run foul of him.” - -“Well, what has he done, then?” asked Adolphe. - -“Oh, nothing. Only if he runs across my way, I swear I will cut off -his ears, and you know I will do it if I say so.” - -They then went, without any more thought of Signor Petito, to the -castle. They entered the Museum, and asked to see the wax mask of -Cartouche. Théophraste became enraged when he learned that it was not -to be found there, and in his excitement he poked the handle of his -green umbrella into the eye of a plaster cast of a member of the Legion -of Honor. An old guard came up and told him that he knew well there had -been a wax mask of Cartouche in St. Germain, and that it could be found, -he thought, in the library. But the latter had been closed up for eight -days for repairs. Théophraste gave that man a franc, and they turned -their steps toward the terrace, promising themselves to come again at -a later time, for the farther the wax mask seemed away, the more -Théophraste burned to touch it. - -It was a beautiful day, and they walked together in the forest, in the -magnificent walk which led to the battlements of the Loge, which were -constructed in front of the Castle Germain, by Queen Anne of Austria. - -As they reached the south angle of the ramparts, it seemed that -Théophraste recognized again, gliding in a thicket, the repulsive form -of Signor Petito. - -Adolphe insisted that he was mistaken. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -_Théophraste’s Memory Is Refreshed_ - - -|THEY wandered down to the lawns at the foot of the ramparts, and -walking across the green grass, they stopped at the foot of a -forked tree. They were seated chatting for some time, when suddenly -Théophraste’s face seemed to light up as if he recalled something. It -seemed as if his memory had suddenly become awakened to events of years -ago. His whole soul was filled with sweet memories, like the tenderest -recollections of youthful days returning, after having been forgotten -for a long time. In his mind he saw perfectly the spirit of Cartouche, -as if he had never been separated from him by two hundred years. It -seemed to come suddenly to him, and as the events came back to him, he -related them to Adolphe, in the following words: - -“Adolphe, my friend, I must tell you that at that time my fortune was -complete. I was dreaded and yet liked by all. I was even liked by my -victims. I despoiled them so gallantly that they went their way along -through the city singing my praises. I had not yet been attacked by that -wonderful sanguinary instinct which some months later made me commit the -most atrocious crimes. Everything prospered with me; everybody feared me -and loved me. I was happy, merry, of a magnificent audacity, gallant in -love, and the ruler of Paris. They said that I was the greatest of -all robbers; that was only half true, because it was imperative that I -should partake of the sovereignty with M. Law, the Controller-General of -Finance. My glory was at its zenith; for often he and his people paid -me tribute. But he imagined he might excite the Regent against me. One -evening when I had stolen into his room in his hotel, disguised as -a lackey to Lord Dermott, the Regent sent for Monsieur d’Argenson, -keeper of the seals, and told him that he had eight hours in which to -arrest me. M. d’Argenson promised everything he wanted, provided they -let him go by the way of the Convent of the Madeline du Frainel, where -his mistress, Mlle. Husson, had taken refuge. Eight hours later, M. -d’Argenson was still at the Convent with Mlle. Husson. As for me, my -dear Adolphe, during that time, I attended to my small affairs, and I -commanded without any trouble three thousand men. It was the month of -September, the nights were beautiful and clear, and we profited by this -to get into the house of the Spanish Ambassador, who lived in the old -hotel of the Marshal d’Aucre, in the Rue de Fournon, the same house -even which has since been occupied by the Guard de Paris. We entered -his wife’s bedroom and took possession of all her dresses, of a buckle -ornament with twenty-seven large diamonds, a necklace of very fine -pearls, six plates, six table sets, six knives and ten coral goblets. -We rolled it all up in a table cloth, and went to supper at the house -of the Belle Helene, who kept what you called the Inn of the Harp in the -Rue de la Harp. - -“Oh, Adolphe, what a wonderful thing memory is! Truly I do not know -why I said that _you_ called it the Inn of the Harp, unless in my mind -you are representing a friend whom I had, who was as good as you, and -whom I loved as well as you, whose name was Va-de-Bon Cœur. By the -Thunder of the Breast, but he was a handsome young fellow! He was a -sergeant of the French Guards, and he was my lieutenant. I must tell -you, my dear Adolphe, that I commanded a considerable number of -French Guardsmen. At the time of my arrest, one hundred and fifty -non-commissioned officers, soldiers of the French Guard, hid themselves, -and disappeared over to the colonies. They dreaded lest I should -compromise them. They were wrong, however, for torture could not make me -speak. However, let me leave those melancholy moments, and come back to -the beautiful September nights. We will proceed to the time when it -was customary for the Parisians to take up their new abodes. The Regent -showed still more anger against me and M. d’Argenson, when he learned -about the escapade against the Spanish Ambassador. Imagine his fury as -I turned my attentions to him. Va-de-Bon Cœur, being on guard at the -Palais Royal, carried off two vermilion flambeaux, which the Duke of -Orleans prized very highly. The Regent was so afraid of being robbed -that instead of wearing silver-faced buckles and sword handles, he -resolved to substitute carved steel. On the first day that he carried -one of that kind, I, Cartouche, stole it from him as he was leaving the -opera house. The next day I sent it back to him in pieces, and I taunted -him about his apparent avarice, and upbraided him, that he, the greatest -man in France, should wish to deprive his unfortunate confrères, the -silversmiths, of a livelihood. - -“He answered me publicly by proclaiming that he was very anxious to -know me, and that he would give from his own pocket 20,000 pounds to -whoever would bring Cartouche to him. The next day, as he walked to -Saint Germain and was breakfasting in the castle, he found under his -napkin a message of which you will readily see the sense: ‘My lord, -you can see me for nothing. It may be to-night, at midnight, behind the -Anne of Austria Wall in the forest, where Cartouche will expect you. You -are brave. Come alone. If you come accompanied, you run the danger of -death.’ - -“At midnight, I awaited the Regent; twelve o’clock was still -sounding in the Loges, when the Regent appeared. The moonlight made the -forest seem like fairyland—enchanted, such as one sees at the theater. -The forest, a marvelous, transparent blue, seemed bereft of all its -branches, of all its foliage, of all its thickets. - -“‘Behold me, Cartouche,’ said the prince; ‘I come to you armed -with my sword alone, as you have wished. I run perhaps the greatest -danger,’ he said in a clear, derisive voice, ‘but who would not -risk everything to see at close range at midnight, in the heart of the -forest, the form of Cartouche, when it costs nothing?’ Oh, Adolphe, -my friend, that thou couldst have been there to hear me respond to the -Regent of France! To be sure, I am only the son of a poor cooper of the -Rue du Pontaux-Choux, but what Condé, what Montmorency could have bowed -with more grace, sweeping the wet grass with the plume of his hat? The -Duke de Richelieu himself could not kneel more elegantly than I did, nor -present in a more gracious manner to my lord the purse that I had taken -from his pocket. ‘I am,’ said I, ‘the most humble servant of my -lord, and I beg him to take back from Cartouche this purse that I had -the audacity to steal with so much coolness, only to prove to my lord -that his highness finds himself face to face with Cartouche.’ The -Regent begged me to preserve that purse for a remembrance of him. He was -wrong to relate, in the course of time, this anecdote; for the report -was spread that he was one of my band. I believe that he had started to -go away, when he put his arm in mine and dragged me as far to the right -as we are sitting to-day. - -“Then the regent did me the honor to put his arm in mine, and I saw -that he had something of a secret nature to confide to me. He did not -wait to acknowledge that he counted upon my ingenuity to avenge -him for an offense that Monsieur the Controller-General had committed -against him. He told me that he was quite in love with the courtesan, -Emily; that she was his mistress, and had been for fifteen days, and -that he had learned from La Fillon that M. Law had the promise of her -favors the next night against the present that he would make her of a -ten-thousand-louis necklace. He was sure of it, for La Fillon was never -mistaken. Was it not from her that he had had a hint of the Cellamore -conspiracy? All the rogues of Paris knew La Fillon. - -“La Fillon is a woman of five feet ten inches, who was admirably -formed, a ravishingly beautiful face. From the age of fifteen years, -that model beauty thought that Nature had not provided such rare -treasures to be hidden, so she lavished them. The Duke d’Orleans, a -long time before the regency, loved her. He remained smitten with her -for more than a year. It was for her that he had constructed, in a -retired part of the gardens of Saint Germain, a sort of grotto, lighted -mysteriously by several rays directed upon a bed of mats, upon which his -mistress stretched herself, clothed in her blonde hair only. He showed -them to all who passed that way, and in that way he made numerous -friends. But the fifteen years of La Fillon flew away in happy days. Now -she had no longer the enjoyment of intrigue, of which she has made -two parts—gallantry and observation. So she furnished some important -information to the police and to M. d’Argenson, guard of the seals, -and some remarkable subjects for the amours of the Regent. It was she -who procured Emily for him, who is by far the prettiest girl in Paris. -Everybody wanted to steal her from him. Law, who was the richest, swore -to succeed there. The bargain was concluded for the next night. - -“‘Cartouche,’ the Regent said to me, after having explained -his small affairs to me, ‘thou art a brave man. I give thee the -necklace.’ - -“And he went away in the moonlight, giving me a slight wave of the -hand. This kind of mission that I received—to thwart the loves of the -Superintendent, and avenge those of the Duke of Orleans, filled me with -pride. - -“Being back in Paris, I learned near the morning, through my police -(which was the best information of the epoch), that the courtesan Emily -lived at a small hotel in the Mardis, at the corner of the Rue Barbette -and of the Trois-Pavillons, and that the Regent showed more attachment -for her than he had ever for the Duchess of Berry, with whom he was -disgusted long since for La Baratere, who shut herself up in the Convent -of Chelles, less on account of her love for God than for her liking for -the beautiful nuns (what morals, my dear Adolphe, what morals!), and it -consoled her that she had recently been mistaken for Mlle de Valois, -uniquely occupied with the Duke de Richelieu. This courtesan, Emily, -was no more than an opera girl, but her beauty, as I have told you, -surpassed all that one can imagine—I was not long in judging for -myself. - -“Twenty-four hours after the interview of Saint Germain, that is to -say the midnight following, I went out with a placard describing exactly -the angle of the Rue des Trois-Pavillons and the Rue Barbette. I had, as -if by chance, a pistol in each hand, which made it impossible for me to -decently bow to Mlle. Emily, who appeared, considering the hour, in the -most polite dishabille, with the Superintendent, who presented a casket -to her in which there shone the gems of a necklace, which was valued at -the least at ten thousand louis. I excused myself for the necessity -of keeping my hat on my head, and begged Monsieur, the Superintendent, -seeing the encumbrance of my hands, to close the casket on the necklace, -and to put the whole thing in the pocket of my cinnamon coat, promising -my gratitude or recognition for this slight service. - -“As he hesitated, I proceeded with my presentation, and when he knew -that my name was Cartouche, he obeyed with alacrity. - -“I begged Mlle. Emily to reassure herself, declaring that she was in -no danger, of which she was convinced, for she began to laugh heartily -at the discomfiture of M. Law. I laughed also. I said to M. Law that his -necklace was worth 10,000 louis, but if he wished to send the next day, -towards five o’clock in the afternoon, a confidence man to the corner -of the Rue Vaugirard and of the Rue des Fosses—Monsieur le Prince, -with five thousand louis, they would return the collar, on the word of -honor of Cartouche. He replied to me that the bargain was concluded and -we took leave of each other. - -“Two days later some one related the adventure to the Regent, who -was at first overjoyed, but whose face changed when he learned the -culmination of the event. The man, Law, had given the five thousand -louis as was arranged, to the man, Cartouche, and he expected the jewel -box, when the other told him that Cartouche had already gone to carry it -himself to Mlle. Emily. Law ran to the house of the courtesan, saw the -necklace and demanded the price. - -“‘It is already received,’ replied Emily, turning her back on him. - -“‘And by whom?’ exclaimed M„ le Superintendent. - -“‘Evidently by the one who brought me the necklace—by Cartouche, -who has just left here. Should I not pay upon receipt of the necklace? -And immediately? I have no credit, myself,’ added she, shouting over -the discomfited face of the man of the Rue Quincamprix. - -“At the Palais Royal, my dear Adolphe, the jest had the success that -you can imagine. It did not matter, the Regent had found out that I -had surpassed his instructions, and in his anger he again sent M. -d’Argenson to hunt for me. He, however, was again diverted by the -attractions of Mlle. Husson. It was a fact, my dear Adolphe, that -women were a source of great help to me, and I leaned towards them -considerably. But they contributed much to my ruin, also. Knowing of -the propriety of my manners, and of my exclusive love for Marceline, you -must think how two hundred years changes a man.” - -Elated at his narrative, Adolphe laughed at the pleasantry which -terminated it. “How two hundred years changes a man!” M. Longuet -laughed at it. The supernatural and terrifying antithesis between -Cartouche and Longuet, which had plunged him at first into the most -melancholy fright, now incited him to make jests. His excuse was that -he did not see anything to fear. He only found his case a little odd. -He joked about it with Adolphe, and even resolved to no longer keep -his true personality from Marceline. She was intelligent and would -understand. He imagined that this personality would present dangers to -himself and to society, but, behold! it existed no longer in the real -condition, but only in his memory, as a vivid picture. He would not have -to control Cartouche as he had dreaded; he would only have to ask -him from time to time, some anecdote, which would help M. Longuet in -conversation. The history of the Regent, M. Law, and of the courtesan, -were sure proofs of that condition of the soul. How it had glided from -his memory without effort! What evil, then, was there in that? After -all, if he had been Cartouche, it was not his fault, and it would -be very foolish in him to be angry about it. He even joked about the -fortune. - -At midnight they made their way back to Paris. As they arrived at the -station St. Lazare, M. Lecamus asked him the following question: - -“My friend, when you are Cartouche, and you take your walks in Paris, -and you see the life of Paris, what astonishes you most? Is it the -telephone, or the railway, or the Metro, or the Eiffel Tower?” - -Théophraste replied, “No, no. That which astonishes me most when I am -Cartouche is the police force.” - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -_The Cat_ - - -|IT seems that the destiny which controls the lives of men, takes a -diabolical pleasure in preceding the worst catastrophe by the serenest -of joys. Thus is it often that we are warned of the tempest by the calm. - -Thus in the beginning of the misfortunes of Théophraste, Marceline and -Adolphe, there was something which was not of very great importance in -itself—the strange behavior of a small black cat. - -I have not yet described in detail the apartment occupied by the -household of Longuet in the Rue Geronde. It is now necessary to do so. -It was a small apartment, rented for twelve hundred francs a year, on -passing through the folding-doors of which one entered a vestibule -of restricted dimensions, all the furniture of which consisted of a -polished oak trunk, which seemed to fill the whole vestibule. Besides -the front door, four doors opened into the vestibule: the kitchen door, -the dining-room door, to the left; the parlor door, and that of the -bedroom, on the right. The parlor and bedroom windows looked out into -the street, and those of the kitchen and dining-room looked out into the -court. The window of the little room in which M. Longuet had made his -office, opened on the street also. This room was between the bedroom and -the dining-room, and could be entered by doors from either of these. As -to the furniture in this apartment, that in the office is all that need -be described. There was a small desk against the wall. - -These great misfortunes of Théophraste, Marceline and Adolphe centered -around something which was not of great importance in itself: it was -only an ornament in the form of a small black cat, which was placed over -the patent lock with which the small desk was fastened, thus hiding it. - -This little black cat was nothing more than an ingenious silken cushion, -which served the double purpose of pin-cushion and pen-wiper. There was -also a tea-table in this room. - -Upon returning from their trip, Adolphe accompanied Théophraste up the -stairway, and as it was late he announced his intention of leaving at -once. He ordered his friend to go to bed so that he might get up early -the next day to make further researches. He shook his hand with a show -of sincerity, and as he went downstairs, looked up to Théophraste, -who was holding the lamp for him, and murmured, “Good-bye, till -to-morrow.” - -Théophraste closed the door of the apartment with the greatest care, -and as he made the second turn to the latch, he said to Marceline, -“Now that we are very often in the country, we ought to have extra -bolts for safety.” - -Théophraste and Marceline searched the apartment before going to bed. -They went into the kitchen, into the dining-room, into the parlor, and -into the office. Nothing unusual had happened during their absence. -Everything was in its usual place. - -Having gone to bed, Théophraste lay awake for some time. He amused -himself by thinking of Cartouche and all the wonderful things he had -done. While he tried to fall asleep, his mind kept continually going -back to the same theme. Suddenly he opened his frightened eyes in the -darkness, and laid his hand on his wife’s arm, waking her. Then, in a -voice so low that he alone knew he had spoken, he said, “Do you hear -anything?” Marceline woke with a start, and they both strained their -ears. They heard something in the apartment. It was a peculiar sound -like the purring of a cat. It seemed as if it came from the office, and -they listened intently for some minutes, too frightened to move. - -Théophraste, as we have said before, was not a brave man, and he would -have given a hundred thousand francs for it to have been daylight. -Marceline whispered in his ear, “Go and see what is the matter. -You must, Théophraste. Take the revolver from the table drawer.” -Théophraste just had the strength to answer, “You know very well it -is not loaded.” - -They listened again, but the noise had stopped. Marceline hoped that -they had been mistaken. Théophraste, quaking with fear, then got out of -the bed, and taking the revolver, softly opened the door which led into -the office. - -The night was clear, and the moon shone across the large blue -table-cloth which was spread on the table. Théophraste recoiled. He -pushed the door to by pressing his back against it, as if he would -hinder whatever he had seen from entering the room. “What is it?” -demanded Marceline, raising herself from the pillows. Théophraste, with -chattering teeth, answered, “It does not purr any more, but it has -moved. It is on the tea-table.” - -“What is on the tea-table?” - -“The cat!” - -“Are you sure it was in its right place last night?” asked -Marceline. - -“Perfectly sure. I put my scarf-pin on it when I was going to bed.” - -“Oh, you only think that you did it,” said Marceline. “Shall I -light the lamp?” - -“No, no. We can escape in the darkness. If I open the door on the -landing we can call the conciergerie.” - -“You are not afraid, then?” asked Marceline, who, now that she heard -it was the cat, was recovering her senses. “It was an illusion that we -had. You must have changed his place last night.” - -“After all it is very possible,” said Théophraste. He only wanted -to get back to bed. - -“Put it in its place,” insisted Marceline. Théophraste decided to -do so. He went into the office, and with a hasty, trembling hand took -the cat from the tea-table and put it on the desk, and soon found -himself back in bed. By this time they had recovered their composure. - -They even smiled in the darkness to think that they had been afraid. -However, a quarter of an hour elapsed, and they were frightened to hear -again the rattle of the ornament. “Oh, it is not possible,” cried -Marceline; “we are the victims of hallucination. There is nothing to -astonish us after what has happened at the Conciergerie.” - -It was Marceline who got up this time. She pulled open the door of the -office, and came back at once towards Théophraste, and said with a -voice so weak that it seemed far away, “You did not, then, put the cat -back on the desk?” - -“But I did,” growled Théophraste. - -“Well, but it is back on the tea-table.” - -“My God!” said the man hiding his head under the coverings. - -Marceline was convinced that, in the disordered condition of his mind, -he had left the cat on the tea-table. She took it, holding her breath, -and put it on the table. The cat rattled audibly again as she did it, -but neither Marceline nor Théophraste saw anything in this. Marceline -went back to bed again. - -Another quarter of an hour passed, at the end of which they again heard -the same noise. Then an incredible thing happened. Théophraste -turned like a tiger and cried out, “What is it? It is only too true, -something unusual is happening.” - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -_Petito Loses His Ears_ - - -|WE will now go downstairs to the flat below, into the apartment -occupied by Signor and Signora Petito. Signora Petito is saying, “I -do not understand M. Longuet’s conduct at the dinner at all. He spoke -such vague, peculiar words.” - -“Well,” answers Signor Petito, “he has this treasure which may -be found in the environs of Paris, and he is thinking of it. It -is certainly very interesting, and I would like to find it myself. -According to the document, my opinion is that one ought to look either -at the side of Montrouge, or at the side of Montmartre. I am inclined -to think that it is Montmartre, on acount of the ‘Coq.’ There was -a castle ‘Coq de Percherons’ there. You will find it if you look at -this plan of old Paris.” - -They looked at the plan, and after a short silence Signor Petito added, -“It is still very vague. For myself, I think that one ought to attach -importance to the words ‘Le Four.’” - -“My dear, then it is more and more vague,” said his wife, “for -there are many furnaces around Paris. There were plaster furnaces, and -quicklime furnaces, and many others.” - -“My idea,” said Signor Petito, “is that Le Four does not mean -‘the furnaces.’ I remember that there was a space after the word -‘Four,’ on the paper. Pass my dictionary.” Signora Petito, -noiselessly, and with great care, brought him the lexicon. They looked -over all the words beginning with the syllable ‘Four.’ On account -of the article, le, they decided not to pay any attention to feminine -words. - -Just then the clock on the mantel-shelf struck midnight. Signora Petito -got up, and said to the Signor, “Now is the time. We will find some -useful information on the floor above. They cannot hear you in your -stockinged feet. I will watch behind their door at the head of their -stairway. You know there is no danger, they are still in the country.” - -Two minutes later a form glided over the landing at M. Longuet’s door, -put a key into the lock stealthily, and went into the vestibule. M. -Longuet’s apartment was arranged exactly like Signor Petito’s, and -so the latter easily found his way into the dining-room. He acted with -perfect composure, believing the apartment to be uninhabited. He pushed -the office door open. As it was evidently the lock of the desk that he -wished to reach. Signor Petito took the ornament which inconvenienced -him and placed it on the tea-table. Then he quitted the room -noiselessly, and entered the dining-room, from there into the vestibule, -for he seemed to hear a voice on the stairway. He was without doubt -mistaken, for he listened intently for some time without hearing a -sound. When he came back into the office, he found the cat again on the -desk, and purring. His hair seemed to stand on end, for the horror -which had seized upon him was not to be compared to the horror which had -seized upon those in the next room. - -Signor Petito remained immovable in the bluish moonlight. With a timid -hand he seized the little black cat. The movement caused by this made -the cat purr again. Now he understood that in the cat’s pasteboard -body there was a little ball, balanced in such a manner that it -ingeniously simulated the purring of a cat when it was moved. - -How frightened he had been! He felt a fool. All was explained. Did he -not remove the cat before returning to the vestibule? Instead of having -placed the cat on the table, as he thought, he must have replaced it -on the desk. That was a simple explanation, and he paid the strictest -attention this time when he placed it on the table. - -While he was doing this there was a fresh noise on the stairway. It was -only Signora Petito, who had very incautiously sneezed. - -Signor Petito went hurriedly and silently back into the vestibule, and -when he was reassured, went back into the office again. - -The black cat had been returned to the desk again! - -He thought that he would die of fright. A miraculous intervention had -arrested him on the verge of a great crime, and he uttered a hurried -prayer in which he promised heaven never to do it again. However, -another quarter of an hour passed, and he attributed these surprising -events to his conscience, and returning, placed the cat back again on -the table. - -Just then the door of the room was violently opened, and Signor -Petito fell into the arms of M. Longuet, who did not express the least -astonishment. - -M. Longuet threw Signor Petito on the floor in disgust, and picking -up the ornament, opened the window, and threw it out into the street. -During this time, Signor Petito, who had gotten up, could hardly compose -his features, for Mme. Longuet, in her chemise, was threatening him -with a revolver. He could only stammer, “I beg your pardon, I really -thought that you were in the country.” - -M. Longuet went up to him, and taking him by one of his ears, said, -“Now, my dear Signor Petito, we must talk.” - -Marceline lowered the barrel of her revolver, and felt pleased at seeing -her husband show such courage. - -“You see, my dear Signor Petito,” continued Théophraste, “that I -am calm. A little while ago I was getting angry, but it was only at that -little cat which was keeping me from going to sleep, and which I have -thrown out of the window. Rut be assured, my dear Signor, I shall not -throw you out of the window. You have not kept me from sleeping, you -have even taken the precaution to put on slippers. Many thanks. But why, -my dear Signor, do you make that ridiculous grimace? It is without doubt -on account of your ear. I have some good news to tell you which will -perhaps put you at ease about your ears. Your ears will make you suffer -no more.” - -Having finished his sarcastic talk, Théophraste begged his wife to pass -him a cloth, and ordered Signor Petito to go into the kitchen. “Do not -be surprised that I receive you in the kitchen. I prize my carpets very -much, and you will probably bleed like a pig.” - -M. Longuet drew towards him a white wooden table, which he placed in the -middle of the kitchen. He asked Marceline to place an oil-cloth over the -table, and get him a large bowl. He then asked for a carving set, -which he said she would find in the dresser drawer, which stood in the -dining-room. Marceline tried to ask for an explanation, but her husband -looked at her so coldly and so strangely, that, shuddering, she could -only obey. Signor Petito, in a cold perspiration, tried to reach the -door of the kitchen, but M. Longuet stood between him and the means of -exit, and commanded him to be seated. - -“Signor Petito,” said he, in a tone of the most sarcastic -politeness, “you have a face which displeases me. It is not your -fault; but then it is not mine, either. Certainly you are by far the -most cowardly and the most despicable of thieves. But what does that -matter? But do not smile, Signor Petito.” It is certain that Signor -Petito had no intention of smiling. - -“You have ridiculously large ears, and surely with such ears, you dare -not pass by the corner of the Guiliere.” - -Signor Petito clasped his hands and stammered, “But my wife awaits -me.” - -“What are you doing, Marceline?” Théophraste cried impatiently. -“Do not you see that Signor Petito is in a hurry? His wife is waiting -for him. Have you the carving set?” - -“I could not find the fork,” answered Marceline in a trembling -voice. (The truth was, Marceline did not know what to say, for she -believed that her husband had become completely insane, and between -Signor Petito the house-breaker, and Théophraste mad, she was in -anything but an enviable position.) She had hidden herself behind -a cupboard door, and her distress was so extreme, that in turning -suddenly, when Théophraste hurled a volley of insults at her, she -upset her favorite vase, which made a loud noise, thus adding to the -confusion. - -Théophraste resorted once more to oaths and insults, and called -Marceline in such a tone that she ran to him in spite of herself. The -spectacle which awaited her in the kitchen was atrocious. Signor Petito -was lying on the wooden table, his eyes bursting from their orbits, a -handkerchief in his mouth, which nearly suffocated him. Théophraste had -had the time, and was possessed with the extraordinary strength to tie -his hands and ankles with cords. Signor Petito’s head hung a little -beyond the edge of the table, and under it there was a bowl which M. -Longuet had placed there to prevent soiling anything. The latter with -palpitating nostrils had caught Signor Petito by the hair with his left -hand. In his right he clasped the handle of a notched kitchen knife. - -Gnashing his teeth, he cried out, “Strike the flags.” - -As he said this he made the first cut at the right ear. The cartilage -resisted. Signor Petito’s muffled groans could just be heard. M. -Longuet, who was still in his night-shirt, worked like a surgeon bent -upon a difficult operation. Marceline’s strength failed her, and she -fell upon her knees. Signor Petito, in attempting to struggle, threw the -blood from his ears across the kitchen, and Théophraste, letting go his -hair, struck him a blow across the head. “Be a little careful,” said -he, “you are splashing the blood all over everything.” - -The cartilage still resisted, so taking the right ear in his left hand, -with a strong blow with the notched knife he tore it away. He placed the -ear in a saucer which he had previously placed on the sink, and -allowed the water to flow over it. Then he came back to the second ear. -Marceline groaned very loudly, but he silenced her with a glance. The -second ear was cut off much more easily, and with more dispatch. - -By this time Signor Petito had swallowed half of the handkerchief, and -was suffocating. Théophraste took the handkerchief out of his mouth and -threw it out into the clothes-basket near by. He then untied his -ankles and wrists, and signed to him to leave the apartment as soon as -possible. He had the forethought to wrap his head in a dish-cloth, so -that the blood would not stain the stairway or the janitor’s family. -As Signor Petito passed by, in agony, Théophraste put the washed ears -into his vest pocket. - -“You forgot something,” he said. “What would Signora Petito say -if you went back without your ears?” He closed the door. Looking at -Marceline, who was on her knees, paralysed with horror, he wiped the -bloody knife on his sleeve. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -_Adolphe Consulted_ - - -|THEOPHRASTE, the next day, seemed to have forgotten all the incidents -of the night before, or at least to attach very little importance to -them. - -As to Marceline, she was far too agitated to make any direct mention -of it. However, she knew Adolphe would be calling at noon and she was -resolved to find out the cause of Théophraste’s actions before he -came so that she could tell Adolphe the best to act. The thing that -struck her most was Théophraste’s sudden show of courage and -strength. Before he had shown excessive lack of courage, and he was -naturally physically weak. Suddenly, to be seized with all the nerve -necessary to meet a burglar and then to have the strength to gag and -bind him and cut off his ears, was unnatural. He had always recoiled -from the sight of blood, and here he was fairly reveling in it. What -could all this mean? He had suddenly turned from a quiet, inoffensive -citizen to a ghoul. - -It was with these thoughts that she approached Théophraste and demanded -an explanation. He at first was loath to tell her, but her entreaties -prevailed, and he eventually told her that it was the spirit of -Cartouche that had seized him and forced him to do these horrible -actions. He told her with a sort of bravado that there had been more -than one hundred and fifty assassinations laid to his account. - -Marceline was in a terrible state of mind and shrank from him. She -declared that nothing in the world would make her live with him. She -would apply for a divorce. She thought she had married an honest man, -and now she had discovered him to be a thief and murderer. Here were -enough grounds for a separation, and she declared her intention of -securing it. - -At this Théophraste became very melancholy, and entreated her to think -of his side of the calamity. He told her how necessary her help was to -him, and with Adolphe’s and her assistance he thought he could throw -off this evil influence. By this time he had become quite rational, and -they decided to consult Adolphe, and if necessary, have him live with -them. - -Marceline readily acquiesced in this suggestion. Adolphe arrived about -1 o’clock, and she took him into the sitting-room and was soon in -earnest and animated council with him. Théophraste went into his -office and waited anxiously for them to join him. After some time they -returned, and Marceline insisted that Théophraste should do all that -Adolphe should ask of him, which he readily consented to do, having -confidence in his friend. - -Later on in the afternoon Théophraste and Adolphe went for a walk -into the city. Théophraste immediately began asking questions as to -Adolphe’s progress in the search for the treasures. He, however, was -in no mood to tell much. Marceline’s story of the night before had -driven all thoughts of the treasure out of his head, and he answered -somewhat abruptly that nothing of importance had been found, and that he -must think of Théophraste’s health first, before taking any further -steps. - -It was obvious to Théophraste that Adolphe was evading the subject, and -he was determined to find out more of the matter. - -He felt that Adolphe had more information, and so pressed him to speak. -Adolphe then told how he had discovered that after the war most of the -soldiers who had been serving with Cartouche had been discharged, and -were left with no means of livelihood, and so, recognizing him as having -the talent of a leader, they formed themselves into a party of bandits, -and placed him at their head. At this time the police force of Paris was -quite inadequate to cope with the many crimes; therefore Cartouche and -his comrades resolved to turn their attention to this. He divided his -men into troops, and gave them each a quarter, to guard over which -he placed an intelligent lieutenant. When anybody was found out after -curfew he was politely accosted and requested to turn over a sum of -money, or if he had no money on him, to part with his coat. In exchange -for this he was given a pass which entitled him to walk through Paris in -perfect security at any time he pleased. He would have nothing to fear -from Cartouche’s men. If he showed any resistance he was immediately -killed. Cartouche had the clergy on his side, and was often able to make -good use of them. One priest named Le Ratichon, was even hanged for him. - -On reaching the Hotel de Ville, Adolphe stopped and asked Théophraste -if he cared to cross the Place de l’Hotel de Ville. - -He answered, “If you wish, certainly we will.” - -“Have you often crossed the place?” said Adolphe. - -“Yes, very often,” replied Théophraste. - -“And nothing unusual has happened? Is there any place in Paris which -you have some difficulty in passing?” - -“Why, no, of course not. What is there to hinder me from going -anywhere?” - -However, Adolphe’s look made him reflect, and then he recalled having -several times walked up the Place de l’Ordson, and when in front of -the Institute he changed his mind and retraced his steps. He accounted -for this rather by his absent-mindedness than by anything unusual. He -recalled that he had never passed through the Rue Mazarine or crossed -the Pont-Neuf. Neither had he crossed the Petit Pont. He had always -turned at the corner of the Rue Ville du Temple, near the house with the -grated windows. - -“Why,” Adolphe asked, “can’t you pass these places?” - -“I think it is because the paving stones are red; and I dislike that -color.” - -“You remember the Place de Grere?” - -“Why, yes. It was there that the pillory and scaffold were erected. -The wheel was placed there on execution days in front of the Rue -Vanniere. There was the old coal harbor. I never passed that place -without counselling my comrades to avoid the wheel. However, I will -wager not one profited by it.” - -“Nor you either,” said Adolphe. “It was there that you suffered -the final torment. It was there that you were racked and expired by the -tortures of the wheel.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -_On Private Ground_ - - -|AMONG all the paper that I found in the oaken chest, those which -related to the death of Cartouche were by far the most curious, and -presented the highest interest, in that they partly contradicted -history. They denied with such persuasive strength, and such undeniable -logic, that it is difficult to see how the great historians could have -overlooked the real details, and the generations which have succeeded -since the year 1721, should not have suspected the truth. History -teaches us that Cartouche, after having suffered the rack in its most -cruel form, during which he confessed nothing, not even a name or a -fact, this Cartouche, who had only to die, and nothing to gain from his -confession, nothing to soften his last moments, was brought to torment -in the Place de la Grere, and it was there that he decided to speak. -That they took him back to the Hotel de Ville, and that it was there -that he betrayed his principal accomplices, after which he was racked -and fastened to the cross, where he expired. - -Immediately after this 360 persons were arrested, with the result that -they were tried, and judicially massacred, the last one of them being -executed two years after Cartouche. - -Now in following the papers of Théophraste, we are not doing full -justice to Cartouche. While Cartouche was an object of terror, he was at -the same time an object of admiration. His courage knew no bounds, -and he proved it at the time of his torture. At the moments when his -sufferings were greatest, he did not speak. It was said that he only -wished to die bravely. The great ladies of the court and of the city had -hired windows and points of vantage from which to witness his death, and -he did not wish to show them on the scaffold, a cowardly dastard, but -the most daring and bravest of bandits. It is an historical fact that -of the 360 persons who were arrested after his death, it was found that -Cartouche was loved by all. The official report showed women throwing -themselves in the arms of L’Enfant at the Hotel de Ville, even after -the denunciation. - -It is not necessary to mention all the protests that M. Longuet made -against the dishonorable death attributed to Cartouche, but some of the -preceding lines seem to show that he was right. - -It was while conversing on this question that Théophraste and his -friend arrived at the Rue de le Petit Pont, without passing over the -bridge. - -“My dear friend,” said Théophraste, “look at that house at the -side of the hotel, which has the sign, ‘To the rendezvous of the -Maraiches,’ and tell me if you find anything remarkable about it.” -They were then in front of a low, narrow and dirty old house, a hotel. -The door on the ground floor disclosed a counter for the sale of -drinks. Above the door was a notice, “To the rendezvous of the -kitchen-gardeners.” The hotel was leaning against a vast building of -the eighteenth century, which Théophraste pointed out with his green -umbrella. This building had a balcony of iron, wrought in a delicate -design of the period. - -“I observe a beautiful balcony, of which the feature in the design -seems to be the quiver of the god of love.” - -“Anything more?” asked Théophraste. - -“I do not notice anything further,” said Adolphe. - -“Do you notice the large gratings on the windows? There was a time, my -dear Adolphe, when windows that had gratings on were very much in vogue. -There were never so many grilled windows in Paris as in the year 1720, -and I would swear that these were placed there the day after the affair -of the Chateaux Augustins. The Parisians always protected their -ground floor, but this did not trouble us very much, for we had Simon -L’Auvergnat.” - -Adolphe took the opportunity of asking Théophraste exactly who this -Simon L’Auvergnat was. He was always referring to him, and without any -obvious reasons. - -“He was a very useful person,” said Théophraste, “he was the base -of my column.” - -“What do you mean by the ‘base of your column’?” - -“You do not understand. Wait, and you soon will. Imagine yourself -to be Simon L’Auvergnat. Stand like this,” and he indicated the -position, against the wall of the house, that Adolphe was to take. -He spread his legs and lowered his head, and raising his arms, leaned -against the wall. “I will place you here,” said he, “on account -of the cornice which is to the left. I remember that it was very -convenient. Now, since you are the base of my column, I lean on that -base and then-----------” - -Before M. Lecamus had had time to see what was going to happen, -Théophraste gripped his shoulders, leaped on the cornice of the hotel, -from there to the balcony of the hotel at the side, and entered a room -of which the window had been opened. - -M. Lecamus, stupefied, looked up into the air, and was wondering to -himself how on earth his friend could have disappeared in such a way, -when suddenly piercing cries came from the room, and a voice yelled out, -“Help! Robbers! Murder! Help!” Fearing some dreadful act, Adolphe -rushed into the hotel. The passers-by were stopping in the street, and -before long a crowd had collected. He leapt over the vast stairway with -the agility of a young man, and arrived on the first landing at the -moment the door opened, and Théophraste appeared, hat in hand. He was -bowing to an old lady, whose teeth were chattering from fright, and -whose hair was all done up in curl papers. “Dear madame,” he was -saying, “if I had believed for one instant that I would have caused -you such surprise, I would have remained downstairs. I am neither a -robber, nor an assassin, my dear madam. All this is the fault of my -friend Adolphe, who wanted me to show him how Simon L’Auvergnat could -serve me as the base of a column.” - -Adolphe had already seized his arm, and was drawing him toward the -stairway. He made signs to the lady from behind Théophraste trying to -make her understand that his friend was off his head. Thereupon, she -fell unconscious into the hands of a chambermaid, and the stairway was -soon filled with a crowd. - -Adolphe profited by this to take Théophraste away. They passed through -without hindrance, and were soon in the street again. Adolphe seemed not -to hear Théophraste’s protests. With one hand he dragged him towards -the Rue Huchette, and with the other dried the sweat which was running -down his forehead. - -“Where are you taking me to?” asked Théophraste. - -“To the house of one of my friends in the Rue Huchette.” - -When they reached the house in the Rue Huchette, they passed under a red -porch, and into a very old house. Adolphe seemed to know the people, -for he did not wait to be ushered in. He made Théophraste climb half -a dozen stone steps which were extremely worn, and pushed open a thick -door which was at the end of the court. - -They were now in a sort of vestibule, lighted by a large lamp in the -shape of a huge ball, suspended by iron chains from the stone ceiling. - -“Wait for me here,” said Adolphe, after having closed the door by -which they had entered. He promised not to be long and disappeared. - -Théophraste seated himself in a large armchair, and looked around him. -What he saw on the wall amused him. There was an incredible quantity of -words painted in black letters. They seemed to cover the whole surface -of the wall, in no sort of order at all. He spelt some of them. There -was Iris, Thabet, Rush, Jakin, Bokez, Thebe, Paracaler, and the word -“Iboah,” which appeared in many places. Turning toward the other -wall, against which he had been leaning, he saw a Sphinx and the -Pyramids. - -An immense arch arose, and in the center of this was Christ, His arms -extended out into a circle of flowers. On the arch were the words, -“Amphitheater of the wise eternal son of Truth.” It was the arch of -the “Rose Cross.” Below was this inscription, “There are none -so blind as those who will not see.” Looking around he came across -another inscription, in letters of gold: “As soon as you have won a -fact, apply yourself to it with your whole mind. Look for the salient -points in it. Behold the knowledge which is in it. Give way to the -hypothesis. Hunt for the fault in it.” (Instructions to the clinic of -the Hotel Dieu, Prof. Trousseau.) Besides this he saw figures of forles -and vultures and jackals, men with birds’ heads, beetles, and the -emblem of Osiris—an ass, and an eye. Finally he read these words in -blue letters: “The more the soul is rooted in her instincts, the more -will she be forgotten in the flesh, the less consciousness she will have -of her immortality, and the more she will remain a prisoner in living -corpses.” - -Impatient at the absence of his friend, and becoming a little -frightened, he attempted to raise the drapery behind which Adolphe had -disappeared. But as he ascended the step his head struck an object which -was suspended in the air, and looking up he found it was a skeleton. - -We have said that M. Lecamus had applied himself to the occult sciences, -and practiced spiritualism, but from what we know of M. Lecamus’ -character, we feel that he was only an amateur in these things. He only -practiced spiritualism for show, for snobbery, and to make an impression -at the parties which he used to frequent. He believed no more in -spiritualism than he believed in love. The day came, however, when his -heart gave way, and when his spirit humiliated itself. It was the day -that he met Marceline and M. Eliphaste de St. Elm. He met Marceline at -a seance, where they had made him the father spirit. At this séance -M. Eliphaste was recognized as the chief. However, this gentleman was -rarely seen. He led a most retired and mysterious life at the foot of -the Rue Huchette. - -Marceline had attended this seance by the will of M. Longuet, who, -having been to the Salon Pneumatics, insisted that Marceline should be -presented there. He thought that it was a kind of worldly society, where -such subjects as pneuma-tology were discussed. - -The day that Marceline made her entrance to the Salon M. Eliphaste de -St. Elm was to read a paper on the Gourse. Mme. Longuet found herself -by chance next to M. Lecamus, and after discussing a good many points in -the lecture, they found that they had a great many things in common, -and by a curious chance M. Lecamus discovered that he was an old college -chum of M. Longuet’s. It was thus that he became welcomed into the -family circle of M. Longuet. - -This preamble is necessary for us to understand the presence of M. -Lecamus and Marceline together in the house of M. Eliphaste de St. Elm, -at the foot of the Rue de Huchette, while Théophraste was waiting for -him wearily in the vestibule. The visit was the result of a conversation -between M. Lecamus and Mme. Longuet, early that morning. She had hidden -nothing from him regarding the events of the nights before, and the -history of Signor Petito’s ears showed to M. Lecamus the necessity of -taking precautions against the spirit of Cartouche. At the bottom of -his heart M. Lecamus felt to a certain extent guilty for the follies of -Théophraste, and he had been asking himself, lately, just how far he -could let this reincarnated soul go, for M. Lecamus was a novice at -spiritualism, and it was his intention to experiment with Théophraste -and Cartouche. - -He was no sooner assured of having in his hands a reincarnated soul, -than his curiosity aroused in him a desire to make use of it. This was -exactly what he had done in putting the reincarnated soul of Cartouche -before his portrait, without taking any precautions, and now he did not -know how he could stop that which he had unconsciously set in motion. He -knew how to arouse such a spirit, but he did not know how to stop it. - -It was for this reason that he and Mme. Longuet had come this morning to -beg M. St. Elm to exercise his influence, for there was not a cleverer -guide for reincarnated souls in Paris. - -In the meantime, Théophraste had been locked up in the vestibule, and -when he struck his head against the skeleton, he began to think that it -would be more tranquil in a mound at St. Chaumont. The corridor in which -he found himself did not have a single window. A red gloom lighted it -from one end to the other. It came from the cellar, and penetrated the -thick pavement glass. The corridor had crevices and angles. He came to a -corner and stopped abruptly. He was impatient to go ahead, and went into -one of the two branching passageways which ran from the corridor. Five -minutes later he found himself at the same cross passage. Then he went -up the first corridor again, taking the direction that he had followed -in coming out to the vestibule, but to his great surprise he could not -find the vestibule. He wandered about for what seemed to him several -hours, and he was just giving up hope of ever getting out of this -labyrinth, when he saw Adolphe in the distance. He ran up to him and was -on the point of reproving him for having kept him waiting so long, when -Adolphe said to him sadly: “Come, Marceline is in there; we are going -to present you to a good friend.” - -Théophraste found himself in a large, dark room, where his attention -was attracted by a great light which fell on the figure of a man. But -strange to say, the light did not seem to fall on the man, but rather to -radiate from him. In fact, when the figure moved it seemed to carry -the light with it. Before the flambeau a woman was standing in a humble -attitude, with clasped hands and bowed head. - -Then Théophraste heard a voice, a friendly voice, a manly voice, a -voice sweeter than the sweetest voice of woman, which said to him: -“Come to me without fear.” - -That which astonished M. Longuet above all else was the astral light -which showed up the noble features of M. Eliphaste de St. Elm. He was a -person of divine elegance, as elegant as a Christ on the Tripoli. - -“I do not know where I am,” said Théophraste, “but it gives me -confidence to see my friend Adolphe, and my wife, Marceline, at your -side. However, I should like to know your name.” - -“My dear sir,” said the harmonious voice, “I am called M. -Eliphaste de St. Elm.” - -“Well,” said Théophraste, “my name is Cartouche. But it has -been believed for a long, long time that this name was given to me as a -nickname.” - -“You are not Cartouche,” said Eliphaste. - -“Your name is Théophraste Longuet. You will pardon me, but there is -no longer any need for confusion; you were formerly called Cartouche, -but now you are called Théophraste Longuet.” - -M. Théophraste then recalled a number of personages with whom he -had, in the spirit of Cartouche, been speaking. They were all of the -eighteenth century—Gatelard, Marie Antoinette Neron, and others, and -it was evident that his mind was dwelling on that period, and he was -living in the present a life of the past. - -Théophraste was still talking of these times, when the half shadows -which seemed to envelop him were suddenly dissipated, and the room -appeared in the splendid brightness of day. He looked around with -evident satisfaction, first at his wife, and then at Adolphe, and -finally at M. Eliphaste. Eliphaste had entirely lost his supernatural -aspect, his astral mantle had disappeared, and if his features had still -their sublime and unusual pallor, he seemed, nevertheless, a man like -other men. - -“Ah, this is better,” said Théophraste, sighing. - -“It is not necessary for you to think any more of old Paris,” -said M. Eliphaste. “You have nothing more to do with it. You are -Théophraste, and it is the year of grace, 1899.” - -“Possibly,” replied Théophraste, who was obstinate; “but the -question is, what about my treasure? I have a perfect right to look at -a plan of old Paris, for I can follow the place where I buried it -formerly, and find the place where I must look.” - -Eliphaste, speaking to Lecamus, said, “I have often witnessed the -crises of Karma, but never has it been given to me to study one of such -strength.” - -Eliphaste reflected, and then leading Théophraste to the right, he -brought him before a map of real Paris. “Behold,” said he, “the -exact point where Le Fouches de Mount Fançons were. As to the mouth of -the Choppinettes, and of the Coq, they were at those two points of the -Monte St. Chaumont. The forks were found on a small eminence on the side -of the principal mound, but far to the right of where the Protestant of -the Rue de Crimee stands to-day. To find your treasure again, my friend, -it will be necessary to search in that triangle. The mounds, as you say, -have been the remains of a filled-in ditch, and I doubt very much if -your treasure could still be found there. I specified for you the old -space on a modern plan to disillusion you. You must clear your mind. -Think no more on your treasures. Do not live in the past. You must -live in the present, and for the future. You must drive away Cartouche, -because Cartouche is no more. It is Théophraste Longuet who is.” - -M. Eliphaste pronounced these words with great force. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -_They Decide to Kill_ - - -|MELIPHASTE had been reasoning with Théophraste, and using all the -arguments of spiritualists to persuade him to make an effort to rid -himself of the spirit of Cartouche. - -“However,” said Théophraste, “I thank you for the interest you -have taken in me, and for your sympathy; but I tell you, you can do -nothing for me. You say I am sick, but I am not. If I were you could -cure me. You also say that I am to drive away this Cartouche; but, -though that is easily said, I can assure you that it is not so easily -done. It is impossible, my dear M. Eli-phaste.” - -“And yet,” said M. Eliphaste, “it is necessary. For if we do not -succeed in driving him out, we must kill him. That is an operation the -result of which I cannot vouch. It is a delicate operation, and full of -dangers.” - -M. Eliphaste had hoped that this obsession of Cartouche was only -imaginary, and so by reasoning he could drive it away. But, alas, the -reality of it was only too true, and Théophraste, while willing to help -him, could not get himself to believe M. Eliphaste’s arguments. - -“You understand,” said M. Eliphaste, “your case is most -extraordinary. Everybody in the world has lived before, and will live -again. This is the Law of Karma. It may be possible to find some one -who was a friend of Cartouche’s. The true object of that wonderful -evolution of souls through the bodies, is to develop and qualify them to -enjoy the perfect happiness which will finally be the inheritance of the -fortunate ones who will enter into the Kingdom of Heaven. It is thought -that at each birth, the personality differs from the preceding one, -but it is only the veritable, divine and spiritual I. These divers -personalities are in some measures only the links of the infinite -chain of life, which constitutes, throughout the ages, our immortal -individuality.” - -The admirable wisdom of the teaching appealed to Théophraste immensely. -Eliphaste had shown himself so much the master of his thoughts, that he -could not understand why he had remained ignorant so long, without even -having suspected these wonderful truths. He saw the great difference -between Eliphaste and Adolphe, the difference, as he said, “between -the Man of Reason and the Learned Ape.” - -Eliphaste continued: “When one is persuaded of this great truth, -one need not be astonished at the wonderful things that happen in the -present—if they recall events of former times. But to live according -to the Law of Wisdom, one must live in the present, and not look -behind.” - -Théophraste had too often looked behind. His mind had occupied itself -with thoughts of the past. If this had continued, in a very short time -Théophraste would have gone quite mad. - -And so Théophraste thought: “I must either forget Cartouche, throw -him off completely, or develop all his characteristics.” - -M. Eliphaste told them that what men call vocations to-day were only -a latent revelation of the past, and they could only be explained that -way. He told them that what was called facility among men to-day was -nothing else but retrospective sympathy for some objects that they -knew better than others, having studied them better before the real and -actual life. He said that we even assume the gesture of the past -without knowing it. He himself had seen, on the eve of the Battle of -the Bourget, two young men fall near him, handsome as demigods, brave as -Castor and Pollux, and who succumbed with grace that the heroes showed -in dying at Salamis, Marathon, or at Platies. M. Eliphaste then pressed -Théophraste to his heart, breathed on his forehead and his eyes, and -then asked him if he was quite persuaded of the truth. He said that -to be happy we must seek to give an account of ourselves, as to the -perpetual changes of our condition, and that by this we learned to -live in the present, and to comprehend that the future belonged to -us entirely. Are we not the children of the Eternal, in whose eyes a -thousand years are as a day, and a day as a thousand years? - -Théophraste said to him that he was not at all astonished at having -been Cartouche—it seemed so natural to his mind—that he would never -more dwell on it, and he declared that at present Cartouche was driven -away. - -Thereupon Marceline asked what time it was, and Adolphe told her it was -eleven o’clock, and so they rose to take their leave. However, just -before leaving, an incident occurred which went to prove too clearly -that the spirit of Cartouche had not left Théophraste. - -Upon Adolphe’s declaring that it was eleven o’clock, Théophraste -took out his watch and contended that it was half after eleven, and -after a few words, he said, “You can cut off my right hand if I am -wrong.” - -Turning to M. Eliphaste, that gentleman confirmed M. Lecamus’ -statement, whereupon Théophraste picked up a small knife which was -lying near, and would have severed his right hand but for M. Eliphaste, -who, grasping the situation, seized Théophraste’s uplifted hand with -dexterity and incredible strength. He ordered him to drop the knife, and -told him that he was not keeping to the compact. M. Eliphaste felt -that it was no good arguing with him on the matter of the spirit of -Cartouche, and despaired of ever ridding him of the spirit by reasoning. -He turned to Adolphe and said, “Let us go. It is too late. There is -nothing to do but to kill him.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -_The Operation_ - - -|THIS savage onslaught, which but for the presence of mind of M. -Eliphaste would have terminated in the amputation of M. Longuet’s -hand, proved to them that the sanguine imagination of Cartouche had so -completely invaded the brain of M. Longuet that it seemed to them the -only remedy for such a misfortune was the death of Cartouche. - -M. Eliphaste did not hesitate. He had reasoned with him in vain, and had -even hoped at one time that he had been victorious, but this incident -undoubtedly proved otherwise. He rose and looked at Théophraste, giving -him a long, steady glance, which seemed to pierce the uttermost depths -of his soul. Théophraste sighed several times and began to tremble -violently, when M. Eliphaste cried, “Cartouche, I order you to -sleep.” Théophraste fell as if stricken on the armchair which stood -behind him, and did not make another move. His respiration was so silent -that they doubted if he still lived. Marceline ran to him alarmed, but -M. Eliphaste restrained her, saying, “All is well. The operation of -the death of Cartouche has begun.” - -Adolphe knew, from several examples, that there is always a great risk -when one wishes to kill a reincarnated soul—that is to say, to throw -it back toward the past. There is a risk of killing the body in which -it is reincarnated. And so he knew that trying to kill the soul of -Cartouche without killing Théophraste was a great undertaking. - -It needed all the authority, and all the science of M. Eliphaste, to -calm them in the extremity in which they found themselves. He was the -most intellectual and scientific spiritualist of the day. He had the -most absolute and domineering will that the world had seen since Jacques -Molay, to whom he had succeeded, by the supreme direction of the secret -order of Temphis. He had made an allegorical demonstration of his last -treatise on “Psychic Surgery,” and had analyzed the subject in his -pamphlet on “Astral Scalpel.” - -It is necessary to enumerate all the accomplishments of M. Eliphaste, -for it gives Adolphe a chance of refuting in advance the reproach put -upon him for letting him treat his best friend with the utmost severity. -The criminal eccentricities of M. Longuet, of which Signor Petito was -the first victim, made him dread the most irremediable catastrophes, -and it was for this reason that he was led to consider the operation -of Cartouche as a benefit, not only possible, but probable, without -too great a risk to Théophraste. As to Mme. Longuet, her faith in M. -Eliphaste was so great that at first she only made a few remarks, so as -to relieve her of any responsibility, and then the terror that she had -of sleeping with Cartouche made her, over and above everything, desire -his death. - -M. Eliphaste told Adolphe to take Théophraste’s heels, and he -took and held him under the armpits, and they carried him into the -sub-cellar, where a laboratory had been fitted up, which was lighted in -the day by gas, with large, red, hissing flames. - -Mme. Longuet followed. They placed Théophraste on a bed, and bound -him down with straps. He was still under the mesmeric influence. M. -Eliphaste stood over him, watching him closely, for a quarter of an -hour, during which time there was a deep silence in the room. At length -a voice was heard. It was M. Eliphaste praying. The prayer began in this -way: - -“In the beginning there was silence. Oh, age Eternal, source of all -ages------” - -When the prayer was ended, M. Eliphaste took Théophraste by the hand -and seemed to command him without speaking. He questioned Théophraste -by the strength of his domineering spirit —only by the answers -Théophraste made could they understand what he had been commanded to -tell. Théophraste said, without effort, “Yes, I see. Yes, I am. I -am M. Théophraste Longuet; in an apartment of the Rue Gerondeau.” M. -Eliphaste turned toward Adolphe and Marceline. “The operation is a bad -one,” he said in a deep voice. “I have put Cartouche to sleep, and -Théophraste answers me. He is sleeping in the present. We must not -precipitate matters. It will be dangerous.” - -“I am in the Rue Gerondeau—in the apartment under mine—and I see -stretched on the bed a man without ears. In front of him a woman; a dark -woman—she is pretty—she is young—her name is Regina—the woman is -saying to the man, ‘Signor Petito, as true as I am called Regina, and -that you have lost your ears, you will cease to see me in forty-eight -hours if you have not found the means to give me a little comfort, to -which I have a right. When I married you, you basely deceived me, both -as to your fortune and as to your intelligence. Your fortune rested only -in hopes which have not been realized. What are you going to do?’ - -“Signor Petito replies, ‘My dear Regina, you puzzle me. Leave me -in peace to find a trace of the treasures that the imbecile above is -incapable of snatching from the profound depths of the earth.’” - -Théophraste made them understand, in his sleep, that the imbecile -referred to was Cartouche. M. Eliphaste turned toward them, saying, “I -expect that word to make him quit the present. Now, madam, the time -has come. I am going to tempt God.” And then he spoke in a -commanding voice, in a voice that it seemed impossible not to obey. -“Cartouche,” said he, extending his hand above the strapped bed with -a commanding majesty, “Cartouche, where wast thou on the night of the -first of April, 1721, at ten o’clock?” - -“On the night of April first, 1721, at ten o’clock, I struck two -light blows on the door, with the intention of making them open the door -of the Tavern Reine Margot. I never should have believed that I could -have reached the ironmonger’s shop so easily. But I had killed the -horse of the French guardsman, and I had thrown those who had followed -him into the Seine. At the Reine Margot I found Paleton, Gatelard, and -Guenal Noire. La Belle Laittiere was with them. I related the story to -them while emptying a bottle of wine. I had confidence in them, and -I told them that I suspected Va de Bon Cœur—and perhaps Marie -Antoinette—of having whispered something to the spies. They cried out, -but I cried out louder than they. I announced to them that I had decided -to deal summarily with all who gave me cause to suspect them. I -became very angry, and La Belle Laittiere told me that I was no longer -bearable. Was it my fault? Every one had betrayed me. I could not sleep -two nights consecutively in one place. Where, then, were the days when -all Paris was with me? Where, then, was the day of my wedding to Marie -Antoinette, when we sang the air of ‘Tout joli belle menniere, Tout -joli moulin’? Where was now my uncle Taton? Shut up in a castle. And -his son? Killed by me because he was going to denounce me. I had done it -quickly. A pistol shot, and his corpse was under a pile of rubbish. Then -I was sure of his silence. I killed the robber Pepin, and the police -officer Huron. I did not ask anything, only that they leave me alone to -police Paris for the security of everybody. My great council,” this he -murmured to himself, “did not pardon me for having Jacques le Febrere -executed. I am no longer bearable, and that is because I wish to live. -After that which had come to pass,” continued Théophraste in his -hypnotic sleep, “and the miraculous way in which I escaped in spite of -treachery and the precautions taken by the spies, I did not conceal from -Gate-lard or from Guenal Noire that I had decided to leave them. - -“I soon left them and opened the door of the Reine Margot. Not a soul -in the ironmonger’s shop. I was saved. I did not even stop Magdelen, -whom I passed while walking along the walls of the cemetery, where I was -going to sleep that night. Truth was, I was going to pass the night like -a robber in my hole in the Rue Amelot. It was pouring with rain.” - -It would be difficult to describe the strange tone in which this -narrative was related. The undulation of the phrases, their stops and -their stations, then the peculiar monotone in which the words fell -from Théophraste’s lips while he was in the hypnotic sleep. His face -sometimes expressed anger, sometimes contempt, and sometimes terror. - -M. Lecamus, who had seen Cartouche’s portrait, recalled that at -certain times there was a striking resemblance to that of Théophraste. -Just as he was relating the incident of passing Magdelen, and the -downpour of rain, Théophraste’s face showed a most peculiar -expression, changing from joy to most overwhelming despair. - -M. Eliphaste, leaning over the bed, asked him: “What then, -Cartouche?” - -Théophraste replied in a rattling voice: “I killed a passerby.” - -The operation continued, but it was only by degrees that M. Eliphaste -wished to bring Cartouche to the hour of his death. Before making him -live his death, it was necessary to make him live a little of his life. -That was the reason that M. Eliphaste had thrown the spirit of Cartouche -back to the month of April, 1721. - -Though the minutes following were terrible for the onlookers, they were -worse for Cartouche, who was passing through the end of his career the -second time. - -It was not until October 11, 1721, that the treason bore fruit. - -Coustard, sergeant in the company of Cha-bannes, took forty men and -four sergeants with him, all of whom were designated by Duchatelle, -Cartouche’s lieutenant, who had betrayed him. This little army, in -citizen clothes, concealing its arms very mysteriously, surrounded the -house pointed out by Duchatelle. - -It could not have been more than nine o’clock in the evening when they -arrived in sight of the tavern, Au Pictolet, kept by Germain Tassard and -his wife, near the Rue des Trois Bornes. Tassard was smoking his pipe on -the doorstep, when Duchatelle came up and demanded, “Is there nobody -upstairs? No? Where are the four ladies?” - -Tassard, who expected this question, said, “Go up.” - -The little troop rushed in, and when they came to the room above, they -found Boloquy and Cartouche drinking wine before the fireplace. Gaillard -was in bed, and Cartouche was seated on the bed, mending his breeches. - -They rushed upon him. The attack was so sudden that he had no time to -make any resistance. They tied him with strong ropes, and, placing him -in the coach, took him prisoner to Monsieur the Secretary of State. Then -he was taken to the Grande Châtelet. - -He was in his shirt, having had no time to put on his breeches. He kept -cool, congratulating the lieutenant who had betrayed him on the fine -livery he wore. - -As the coach passed down the road, it nearly crushed some poor wretch -who was in the way, and Cartouche, seeing his plight, shouted to him -that phrase which he seemed to have affected, “It is necessary to look -out for the wheel.” - -All the people ran out to see him on his way to the house of M. -the Secretary of State. They cried out, “It is Cartouche! It is -Cartouche!” only half believing it, as they had so often been -deceived. - -While in the prison awaiting trial, Cartouche received many illustrious -visitors. The Regent came; the courtesan Emilie and the Mme. le -Maréchale de Boufflers followed one after the other to pay the prisoner -small attentions. Some one had composed a play, and Quinnato, the famous -actor of the time, who filled the principal rôle in it, came to ask him -for suggestions about the chief scene. - -When Cartouche had been sufficiently amused, he began to think of making -his escape. He intended doing this in spite of the very close watch that -was being kept over him. - -After getting out of his dungeon, and just as he was pushing the last -bar which separated him from the street and liberty, he was discovered -and caught. - -Thinking that the Grande Châtelet was not strong enough for so -ingenious a man, he was bound securely in chains and taken to the -Conciergerie, in the most formidable corner of the tower of Montgomery. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -_The Torture Chamber_ - - -|IT is only the basest of literature that describes without adequate -reason the weird, the horrible. However, many authors find it necessary -to dilate upon the most satanic personalities of men, and the worst -cruelties imaginable. - -Therefore, it is only with the knowledge that the recital of the -misfortunes of Théophraste is destined to throw a light on the most -obscure problems of psychic surgery that the author of these lines -proceeds with this description of the most frightful tortures, moral and -physical, that have ever been endured by man. - -The operation to be performed was a singular one, and full of the -gravest of dangers. However, M. Eliphaste was in the habit of performing -the most complicated of psychic operations, and the delicacy of his -astral scalpel was universally acknowledged. But the difficulty was the -delay. - -Had M. Lecamus brought Théophraste earlier, the danger would have been -less, but now M. Eliphaste recognized the gravity of the case, and he -said that to kill Cartouche without killing Longuet was to tempt God. It -was the gravest responsibility. - -However, he knew how to lead M. Longuet’s mind quietly and without -haste to the subject of his death, and thus he prepared him for death. - -He made him live his death the moment that he made him die his death. -Then, at the psychological moment, he made a certain gesture, the double -sign which precipitated in death the spirit of the dead, and brought -back to life the living mind. - -These were the details of the operation to be performed, and the -preliminaries, which consisted in making Théophraste live through the -last months of Cartouche’s life, having been started, M. Eliphaste -began asking Théophraste a series of questions. The latter was lying, -groaning, on the bed in the laboratory, which was lighted by the hissing -scarlet flames. - -M. Lecamus and Mme. Longuet sat on a low bench at one side of the room. -M. Eliphaste stood beside the bed. - -“Where did they take you, Cartouche?” - -“In the torture room. My trial is ended. I am condemned to die on -the wheel. Before the torture they wish me to confess the names of my -accomplices, my friends, my mistresses. I should rather die on the wheel -twice! They shall know nothing!” - -“And now, where are you, Cartouche?” - -“I am going down a small stairway, at the end of the ‘Walk of the -Pillory.’ I open a grating. I am in the dark cellars. These dungeons -do not frighten me. I know them well! Ah! Ah! I was shut up in that -dungeon under Phillippe le Bel!” - -Then with a terrible power M. Eliphaste cried out, “Cartouche! Thou -art Cartouche! Thou art in the dungeons by order of the Regent.” Then -he repeated to himself, “Phillippe le Bel?” and then to Théophraste -again, “Where are we going? Where are we? My God! We must not lose our -way! And now where are you, Cartouche?” - -“I advance in the darkness of the cellars. There are about me, walking -in the dark, so many guardsmen that I cannot tell the number. I see -below, far, far below, a ray of light that I know well. It is a square -ray of light that the sun has forgotten since the beginning of the -history of France. My guards are not French guardsmen. They mistrust all -French guardsmen. My guards are commanded by the Lieutenant of the Short -Robe of the Châtelet.” - -“Where art thou now, Cartouche?” - -“I am in the torture chamber. There are before me men clothed in long -robes, but I cannot distinguish their faces. They are my commissioners, -who have been entrusted with the verifications, as appeared to be the -custom. But why do they call it verifications? The thought makes me -smile.” (Théophraste really smiled as he said this.) “Where are you -now, Cartouche?” - -“They put me on the criminal stool. They have put my legs in backings. -With incredibly strong cords, they have bound small planks about my -legs. I believe truly that the rascals wish to make me suffer to the -limit, and the whole day’s work will be rough. But I have a heart -hardened by courage. They shall not break it!” At this point M. -Longuet, on his strapped bed, uttered a fearful cry. His mouth was wide -open, and he groaned incessantly. Adolphe and Marceline leaned over him -and asked with horror when that howling would cease, and when that mouth -would close. But M. Eliphaste only said, “The torture has begun. But -if he howls like that at the first blow of the mallet, there is going to -be trouble.” M. Eliphaste was not expecting those groans. He paid no -attention to the howling. He calmed M. Lecamus and Mme. Longuet with a -supreme gesture. He spoke to Théophraste, something they never knew, -for the howling prevented them from hearing anything. - -At last the howling became groaning, and eventually the groaning itself -stopped. Théophraste’s face had become comparatively placid. - -“Why do you cry out in that way, Cartouche?” “I scream because -it is a punishment that I cannot denounce my accomplices. I have their -names on the end of my tongue! They do not see that if I do not denounce -them it is because I cannot move the end of my tongue! I cannot! I -cannot! I cannot! And they struck with their mallet again! And they sunk -the pieces of wood into my legs again! It is unjust! I cannot move the -end of my tongue!” - -“What are they doing to you now, Cartouche?” “The doctor and -the surgeon are leaning over me and feeling my pulse. They are -congratulating themselves on having chosen that kind of torture, which -is, they are saying to the commissioners, the least dangerous to life -and the least susceptible to accidents.” - -“And now, Cartouche, what are they doing to you?” - -“They are doing nothing to me, and I regret it, for they have decided -to bury the second wedge in me only a half hour after the first, and let -the pain which it produced pass away, and the sensibility be entirely -restored. I am looking at my judges. They have black mouths. I like the -face of the executioner better. He is no more amused than I. He wants -to be somewhere else. But there he comes with the second judge. They are -all around me. They are over me! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!...” - -Never had Théophraste looked so terrible. His mouth was wide open, -and his tongue seemed paralyzed. Foam was around his lips, and his eyes -seemed to start out of his head. - -M. Lecamus looked across to M. Eliphaste, who said, when the second howl -had died away, “Why do you scream, Cartouche?” - -“Because these torturers will not listen to the names that are on the -end of my tongue.” - -“But you have not told us any names. You have only screamed.” - -“It is Cartouche they are torturing and Longuet who screams,” -answered Théophraste. - -M. Eliphaste was taken aback by this last response. He turned toward the -two silent onlookers and said in a low, trembling voice, “Then it is -he who is suffering.” - -There was no room for doubting this truth. The fearful expressions on -Théophraste’s face as he imagined the executioner forcing the wedge -in, showed too plainly that though it was Cartouche whom they tortured, -it was Théophraste who really suffered. - -M. Eliphaste seemed very concerned. Never before had such a case come -before his astral scalpel. The identity of the soul had been proven, and -suffering Cartouche had cried out in distress after two centuries. This -cry had waited to come from the lips of Théophraste. - -M. Eliphaste leaned his head on his hands and prayed. After a short -silence he turned to M. Lecamus and said, “We are only at the second -wedge, and there are seven of them.” - -“Do you think my husband will have the strength to bear them?” asked -Marceline. - -M. Eliphaste leaned over the prostrate form of Théophraste and examined -his head, just as the doctor had done to Cartouche in the torture -chamber. - -“The man is all right,” said he. “I don’t believe there is -anything to fear now. We must kill Cartouche.” - -“I think so, too,” said Lecamus. “It is necessary for the future -security and definite happiness of M. Longuet.” - -M. Eliphaste then continued his interrogations: - -“And now what are they doing to you, Cartouche?” - -“They are questioning me. I cannot reply. Why doesn’t that man in -the corner of the dungeon do his duty? I have not yet seen his face. He -turned his back to me and made a noise with old irons. The executioner -is very quiet. He is leaning against the wall, yawning. There is a lamp -on the table which gives light to two men, who write incessantly. -Behind the man who is making the noise I see a little red light. The -executioner’s assistant has loosened the knots in the cords a little, -which gives me a relief for which I am grateful... But... but... but -the assistant on the other side pulls and pulls. If he continues to pull -the cords so he will cut my legs off. They bring a crucifix for me to -kiss. Behind the man who turned his back on me I hear something like -crackling embers, and there are small red flames which lick the stone -walls. Between the two men who are writing there is a man who makes a -sign. The executioner has a kind face. I sign to him for some water. I -could bear the pain better if I had not such a thirst. The executioner -raises his mallet! I swear I cannot say the names which are at the end -of my tongue. They will not leave me. I cannot speak! Oh! why cannot you -hear them? Take them from me!” - -By this time his mouth had become closed, but the lips were opened in -such a way as to make it appear that he had no lips. The teeth were -locked and welded together tightly. A muffled cry of suffering came -from the throat, but could not escape through the closed teeth. Suddenly -there was a sharp grinding, and his teeth began to break under the great -pressure of that closed jaw. Pieces of teeth were scattered over the -bed, and blood issued from his mouth. His horrible groaning continued, -and Théophraste showed signs of weakening under the great strain. - -At this horrible spectacle M. Eliphaste declared wearily that he had -never assisted or suspected that he could assist at such suffering. He -confessed that until to-day he had never operated on a reincarnated soul -of less than five hundred years. It was obvious that in spite of all his -science and all his experience the illustrious medium was nonplussed. - -M. Eliphaste did not try any longer to dissimulate his anxiety. He could -have stopped the operation there if he had had time. But they buried -the wedges in so rapidly that it did not even permit him to question M. -Longuet. - -During this last performance M. Longuet’s toothless mouth opened -again. Other cries issued from it which were not like human cries at -all. They were so curious and so weird that all three onlookers leaned -over him, trembling with terror to see how such a cry could be made by a -human mouth. - -Mme. Longuet wanted to run away, but in her fright she fell. When she -arose the cries had ceased. M. Eliphaste commanded her to be quiet, -recalling to her with a severe look her responsibility in the operation. - -M. Théophraste now reposed peacefully on his strap-mattress. That -peacefulness, following immediately the horrors of such suffering, was -extraordinary. He was not in pain. He remembered none of it. After the -torturing was over he ceased to think of it, and consequently this was -how he could reply to M. Eliphaste in the intervals of torture, in the -most natural way, without physical emotion. - -M. Eliphaste again began to interrogate him: - -“And now where are you, Cartouche?” - -“I am still in the torture chamber. Ah! they hold me! They hold me -tightly! They hold my arms! What are they going to do? The man in the -center says, ‘By order of the Regent we must have the names. So -much the worse if he dies for it! Are the tongs ready? Begin with the -breasts!.. Oh! Oh! The man kneeling before the burning coals gets -up, making a noise with the irons. He hands the red tongs to the -executioner. They uncover my right breast! Oh! Oh! It is dreadful! I -cannot live through it!” - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -_In the Charnel House_ - - -|THE recital which follows is the integral reproduction of what came out -of the mouth of Théophraste while plunged in hypnotic sleep, from the -moment that he submitted to the torture until he died. This part is of -the highest importance, not only for the experimental spirit of science, -but for history, for it destroys the legend of the wheel and shows to -us, in an indisputable fashion, the real death of Cartouche. I have -not found this part stored in the oaken chest, but in the papers and -statements which have been read in the Spiritual Congress of 1889. It is -all from M. Eliphaste’s hand. - -Théophraste, or, rather, Cartouche in the power of M. Eliphaste, said, -“I do not know exactly what has happened to me. I have died, I -have hidden the document, and I have not met a single person. When -I re-opened my eyes (I had them closed then, and I was without doubt -falling from a feebleness that seemed like death) I did not recognize -at first a single one of the objects which surrounded me, and I did not -know the place into which they had carried me. Certainly I am no longer -in the torture room, nor in my dungeon in the tower of Montgomery. Am -I only in the Conciergerie again? I do not know. Where have they -imprisoned me after the torture, whilst waiting for my death? Into what -new prison have they thrown me? The first thing that I distinguish is -a bluish light which flitters across some heavy bars which are covered -with a grating. The moon visits me. It descends two or three steps. I -try to make a movement, but I cannot. I am an inert thing. My will does -not control my legs any longer, nor a single one of my muscles. It is as -if they had severed all relations between my will and my flesh. My brain -is no longer the master of seeing and comprehending. It is no longer -master of my actions. My poor legs! I feel them scattered around me. I -ought to have attained a degree of suffering—I kneel on one, as I have -explained, so that I shall not suffer more. But where am I?... The moon -descended two more steps, and then two more.... Oh! Oh! What is this -that the moon lights? It is an eye! A large eye! But the eye is empty; -that large eye is empty, and the other eye at its side—which is also -lighted now—is covered again with its green eyelid. I see the whole -head! It had no skin on the cheeks, but it had a beard on the chin. The -moon advances continuously. It halts gently in the holes of the nose. It -has two holes in the nose, two on a head.... They threw me, then, into -a common ditch! The moon shone on me.... I have two legs of a corpse -across my stomach. I recognize those steps now, and this ditch, and this -moon.... I am in the charnel house of Montfançon!... I am afraid!... -When I went up to the Cleopimetes by the Bue des Morts on junketing days -I used to look at that charnel house through the grating. I looked at -it with curiosity because I already saw my carrion there, but the idea -never occurred to me that when a carrion was there it could look from -the other side of the grating. And now my carrion sees! They threw me -there because they thought me dead, and I am buried alive, with the -corpses of the persons hanged. My fate is entirely miserable and -surpasses all that the imagination of men could invent! The saddest -reflections assail me, and if I ask myself first of all, by what -artifice of fate I am reduced to such an extremity, I am obliged to -confess that fate had nothing to do with this affair, but my pride only. -I should have continued quietly to be the ‘chief of all the robbers’ -if I had remained alive. But La Belle Laittiere was right when she said -in the tavern of the Reine Margot that I was no longer fit to live. I -was pleased to play the potentate, and I ended by having a mania for -cutting up in pieces all those whom I suspected. My lieutenants ran more -danger in serving me than in deserting me. They betrayed me, and -that was logical. The beginning of my bad luck was the affair of the -Luxembourg. It should have opened my eyes, but my pride hindered me from -seeing clearly. This is a good time for these reflections, now that I am -in the charnel house. - -“I am living in the charnel house with the dead, and for the first -time in my life I am afraid. But I am not afraid of the dead; I am -afraid of the living, for there is one near me alive! _I know that he -moves_. It is strange that at this moment, when I am upon the limit -of life and death, my senses perceive things that they ignored in -good health, and while my ears do not hear any more, on account of the -boiling water with which they were filled, I know there is some one -alive near me. Shall I be then not the only one to live in this domain -of putrefaction? I recall that the Vache-a-Paniers told me that the -Count de Charalais had caused some women who had resisted him to -be buried alive in the little ditches near the earthen mound of -Montfançon, but I, Cartouche, have no desire to think of such a crime. -I know very well that he bathes himself in the blood of young virgins -whom he had killed, to cure himself of a terrible disease which ate into -his flesh, but to bury women alive in ditches, that I do not believe. -And yet there is on my left side a woman who moves in one of the -ditches. I do not hear her, I feel her. The moon had lengthened its ray -of light as far as myself. Its ray is divided into three by the bars of -the grating. This makes three blue bands, by which I see, first of -all, the hole of the eye, and the three holes of the nose, and then a -wonderful mouth, which sticks its tongue out at me. Then there are three -bodies without heads. In the left side of the third body I distinguish -very plainly the putrefied wound in which was buried one of the rings -from which the headless one was hanged. He could not be hanged by the -neck, as he had no head. As I do not feel the woman at my side in the -ditch move any more, I collect my wits a little and I employ myself -in remembering the bodies which fill the charnel house. I begin to see -those which are entirely in the shadows. There are some! There are some -more sounds. They bring all the executed criminals here from the city. -There are some fresh ones, there are some decayed ones, there are -some well preserved ones, and all dry; but the others are not -presentable—they are falling into ruin. I will soon be a ruin like -them. However, all is not said, all is not finished, since I exist. Hope -is not dead. One finds hope even in the depths of a charnel house. Oh, -if I could move! The dead men are moving! I will end by moving also. I -have turned my eyes as far as it is possible in the right corner of the -orbit. I have seen that the corpse which is on my stomach does not -move its head. It slides on my stomach. I begin to be afraid again, not -because the dead one moved—for the charnel house belongs to the dead, -who do there what they wish, but because they pull the dead man by the -legs. I turn my eyes in the other corner. In the left corner I saw a -dead man’s leg in the air. This leg ought to be held by something, -pulled by something. The moon rises the length of the wall, with the leg -as far as one of the holes. And my eyes look so much to the left that -they see a living hand. The living hand which came out of the hole holds -the dead foot. _I feel, I know that there is a woman eating_ in the -ditch at the side. And now I cannot take my eyes from the hole for fear -of seeing the live hand come back and seeing it reach out. But I hope on -my salvation. I hope that the hand will not be long enough. Suddenly the -moon ceases to light up the hole, and I turn my eyes toward the grating -where the moonlight enters. Then I see between the moon and me a man -on the steps of the charnel house. A living man. I am saved perhaps. I -wished to cry out with joy, and I should have, perhaps, if the horror -of that which I feel and know all at once had not suddenly closed -my throat. _I feel, I know_, that that man has come to rob me of -my bones!... On account of the Courtesan Emilie!... The Regent is -remembered with the Duke of Orleans and Jean sans Peur. - -“The Courtesan Emilie would not see him again. The devil meddled with -the affair, and carried a bone of Cartouche, who was beloved by Emilie, -to place in her bed between her chemise and her skin. I know this, my -eye has read this in the heart of the man who descends the steps of the -charnel house. He comes there to take my bones from me.... He lights a -lantern. He goes straight to my corpse. He does not see, then, that the -eyes of my corpse are moving!... He draws out from under his cloak—a -steel blade sharp and red in the rays from the lantern. He puts the -lantern down, he catches me by the shoulders and leaves me half sitting -against the wall, under the hole. He took my left hand with his left -hand, and with his right hand he buried the steel blade in my wrist. -I do not feel the blade in my wrist, but I see it. It turns around my -wrist. It is going to cut it, already it has detached it. Now I commence -to feel the blade! Life has come back into my wrist! Oh, yes, my -wrist!... Oh, yes, my wrist!... One last blow with the blade and my left -hand remains in his left hand. Oh, my poor wrist!... Yes! Yes! Yes! The -life! The life! The life of a nerve! I tell you that it sufficed for the -life of a nerve! Oh! Oh! Oh! The man howls and breaks his lantern with -a kick. My hand is partly in the man’s hand, but by a great miracle -of the ebbing life in my wrist, my hand, at the moment it leaves my arm, -has seized the hand of the man! And the man cannot rid himself of my -hand, which is stiffening in death, and which holds him! Ah! he moves -about, he shakes, he howls, he shakes my hand, which holds him—which -holds him. He pulls my hand with his right hand, but he cannot free -himself thus of the wrist of a dead man’s hand! I see him as he -flees from the charnel house, howling, bounding over the steps in the -moonlight like a fool, like a madman, gesticulating with my wrist. - -“At this moment, above my head, a hand that I do not see, but which I -feel, comes out of the wall and takes me by the hair! It pulls me, pulls -me by the head. Oh, to cry out! To cry out! To cry out! But how can I -cry out with those living teeth staving me in the neck and throat?” - -“And now, Cartouche, where art thou?” - -“I go into the darkness radiant in death.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -_The Result of the Operation_ - - -|As soon as Théophraste had pronounced these words, M. Eliphaste made a -sweeping gesture with his right arm. He leaned over the prostrate form, -and blew impatiently on his eye. - -He said to him: “Awake thou, Théophraste Longuet!” - -This was repeated three times, each time with greater earnestness. -However, Théophraste never moved. His immobility was deathlike, and -his toothless mouth and bloodless lips made the silent onlookers believe -that he had followed Cartouche in the shadow of death. His corpselike -pallor seemed to them to be already turning green, and his hair, having -become suddenly white, gave him the appearance of a very old man. Was he -already dead? Was he decomposing already? - -M. Eliphaste repeated the gestures, and in his lids, intense earnestness -appeared like a madman. He blew again on the eyes, and parted the -eyelashes, again crying out: “Théophraste Longuet, awake thou! Awake -thou, Théophraste Longuet!” - -Just at the moment when they believed that Théophraste Longuet would -never return to life again, a slight tremble shook his frame, and -drawing a deep breath, he turned his face toward them. At first he -breathed with difficulty, but quickly recovering, he opened his eyes and -said: “Cartouche is dead!” - -M. Eliphaste’s face lit up with emotion. “Let us thank God,” he -said, “that the operation has been successful,” and he began his -prayer again: “In the beginning thou wast silent! Eon! Source of all -ages!...” - -Mme. Longuet and M. Adolphe threw themselves on Théophraste, while -thanking God from the bottom of their hearts. They felt that the death -of Cartouche had not been too dearly bought. The operation had certainly -been a rough one, but he had only lost his teeth, and his hair had -turned white. Mme. Longuet put her arms around her husband, and helped -him rise from the couch. “Let us go. We have stopped here too long -already,” she said. - -“Speak louder,” said Théophraste, with strange enunciation. “I -have something in my ears. I cannot move, either.” - -“It is natural that you should be a little benumbed, my dear,” said -Mme. Longuet. “You have been stretched on that bed for a long time. -But make an effort.” - -“Speak louder, I tell you. I can move my arms now, but I cannot stir -my legs. They won’t move, and my feet pain me very much.” - -He then put his hand to his mouth and said: “Why, what have you done -with my teeth? You put me to sleep to fix my teeth, and you have taken -them from me.” - -It was curious that while he was asleep, even after he had lost his -teeth, he spoke distinctly. It was evident that he could not move, and -Mme. Longuet removed the clothing to rub his stiff limbs. To her sorrow -she found his clothes all torn, and on looking closer saw all the flesh -on his limbs lacerated. His legs and feet were boiled. The flesh was -torn away in some places, and burned horribly in others. M. Eliphaste, -with trembling hands, removed the clothing from his chest, and there -they saw, over the heart, two spots of black blood. His biceps bore -fresh marks of frightful torture. - -Mme. Longuet sobbed loudly, and sat with lowered head, looking at the -horrible sight. Adolphe ran to get a carriage. It was evident that -Théophraste could not walk or move. On his return, Théophraste was -still complaining of the pain. Adolphe, with the assistance of the -carriage driver, carried him out into the street. They lifted him -carefully on the mattress, and walked slowly out, followed by the -weeping Marceline. - -M. Eliphaste prostrated himself on the ground, and with his hands -clasped and elbows on the floor, cried out with a voice full of sorrow: -“My beloved! My well beloved! I believed that I was Your son. Oh, my -well beloved! I have taken Thy shadow for Thy light. Thou hast crushed -my pride. I am in the dark, at the bottom of an abyss—I, the man of -light—and I have hated it. I am only the son of silence. Eon! Source -of Eon! Oh, life! To know life! To possess life!” - -And thus, as they went out into the pure air, they left him praying. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -_Visits to a Butcher’s Shop_ - - -|THEOPHRASTE’S bones were not broken, and it only took six weeks to -heal, although he was obliged to keep to his bed for two months, when -he regained the use of his legs. During all this time he did not make -a single allusion to the past. Cartouche was dead—quite dead. The -operation had been successful, although very painful. So much so, that -every one dreaded that he would remain a cripple to the end of his life; -but he had recovered marvelously. He had obtained a new set of teeth, -and was able to speak quite plainly, but it was a more difficult thing -to rid himself of the effects of the boiling water in his ears, and at -times he was perfectly deaf. - -After a while Théophraste thought of occupying his mind by going back -into business. He had retired when young, being able to live on the -income derived from several inventions which he had made for the use of -rubber stamps. - -However, they were all very thankful for the result, and this slight -inconvenience did not worry them. - -It was his habit to rise early, and after breakfast he would go out -for a little walk to strengthen his legs. He soon found their old -elasticity, and regained their full use. On these occasions Adolphe used -to follow a short distance behind in order to watch his movements and -report to M. Eliphaste. - -At first he noticed nothing abnormal in his behavior, and in his report -contented himself with stating this unimportant fact, that he stopped -quite a while before a butcher’s stall. If this had occurred only -once, it would have passed the watchful Adolphe unnoticed. However, it -became a regular thing for Théophraste to stand looking at the bloody -meat, and spend some time talking to the butcher, a square-shouldered, -florid fellow, always ready with a jest. - -One day, when M. Lecamus had decided that Théophraste had spent too -much time at the butcher’s shop, he came up to him, as if by chance, -and found him, with the butcher, decorating all the fresh meat with curl -papers. This was innocent enough. Thus judged M. Eliphaste, although he -wrote in the margin of the report: - -“He may look at the meat in the butcher’s shop. It is good to let -him see blood sometimes. It is the end of the crisis, and can do no -harm.” - -This butchery was a small one, and had its specialty. M. Houdry sold -among other ordinary meats a special quality of veal. The secret of this -quality lay in the way it was killed. The majority of Paris butchers -obtain their meat from the abattoirs, but M. Houdry always bought his -alive, and killed it himself, in his own way. He was not satisfied to -knock the calf in the head, as they did at the abattoirs. He bled it -after the Jewish manner, with a large knife which he called the bleeder, -and so dexterous had he become in this art that he never had to cut the -same wound twice. He had gained some reputation as a good butcher. - -M. Houdry had explained the case about his veal to M. Longuet, with the -greatest mystery, and he had evidently taken great pleasure in it— -so much so that Théophraste, after having listened to the theory, -had shown the desire to assist at a practical lesson. In a small court -adjacent to the store, M. Houdry had a secret abattoir. On a certain -morning, Théophraste, who happened there at a much earlier hour than -was his custom, found his man at the abattoir with a calf. The butcher -begged him to come in, and to close the doors behind him. “I shut -myself up every day thus with a live calf,” said M. Houdry, “and -when the doors of the abattoir are opened again, the calf is dead. I -lose no time; I have operated in twenty-five minutes.” - -Théophraste congratulated him. He asked him many questions, interesting -himself in all the objects which struck his attention. The bellows with -its large arms drew his attention. He also saw a windlass. He learned -that that strong oak cross-bar, with pegs in it, supported the windlass -and the bucket. He admired the solid oak hand-barrow also. A chopper -which was drawn up was called a “leaf.” But that which interested -him more was a set of tools hung on the walls in the shop. In this -“shop,” which was sort of saddle-bags for cutlass, he saw first -of all the bleeder, and was pleased to pass his finger over the long, -strong and sharpened edge. Then there was a much smaller knife, called -the “Moutoniner,” used ordinarily to cut up mutton, as the name -indicates, but which was used there to cut certain parts of veal. -Then some other small knives, among which was the canut, used in -“flowering” the veal. “Flowering” the veal consists in making -light, artistic designs on the shin of the veal, as soon as it is -bleached. - -The first day M. Longuet received instructions about the tools. But -in the following days he learned the art of the whole operation, and -entered into each detail with little repugnance. He used to say, some -days, in going away, jestingly: “You kill a calf every day; you must -be careful, my dear M. Houdry, you see it will end by its becoming known -to the other calves.” - -Théophraste was not idle, either. Whenever he had an opportunity he -would help M. Houdry in these killings. One day the assistant did not -come, and Théophraste helped rope up the calf for killing. As he -was doing this, M. Houdry remarked on the evil of killing the calf by -striking him on the head, as they did at the abattoir. - -Théophraste declared it was a crime, and most inhuman. “It is much -finer to do it with the bleeder. One blow is sufficient, and the head is -off. What a fine death. How the blood flows, and with what dispatch does -he die.” - -“Ah,” said Théophraste, who had killed the calf, “see the -calf’s eyes, as the blood flows. How they stare at you. They are dead, -but they look at you!” - -“What is the matter with the calf’s eyes?” demanded M. Houdry. “They are -like the rest. Ah, you think it is a joke? Well, well, you are not so -used to it as I.” - -M. Houdry then prepared the meat for selling, and while he was doing so -Théophraste took the head, cleaned it and cut out the eyes. The sight -of the blood had excited him beyond control, and M. Houdry was amused -when he desired to take the head and feet home with him. - -In parting he said: “Au revoir, M. Houdry, au revoir. I will take the -head away with me, but I leave you the eyes. I do not like eyes to -stare at me. You must not laugh at me, though. You do not understand me. -However, it is my affair, and you must be glad that you are not afraid -of dead eyes staring at you.” - -And so he returned home, and when he appeared at the door of his house -with the calf’s head under his arm, Adolphe and Marceline smiled, -saying: “He is amusing himself with some innocent prank.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -_A Newspaper Report_ - - -|IT had become their habit in the Longuet flat to play dominoes in the -evening. M. Adolphe was a good player, and always he used the Norman -provincial names. When he played the double six, he would call the -“double negro”; the five was “the dog that bites,” and so on. -Marceline was always amused by these terms, and was always ready to -play. - -It happened on this particular evening that Théophraste lost his game, -and after a short argument he began to sulk, and refused to play more. -Seating himself in a chair near the window, he began reading the paper. -He had strong political opinions. - -Suddenly he was attracted by a strange headline. He read it and re-read -it, and could not resist an exclamation. “Strange! Is not Cartouche -dead, then?” - -He could not help smiling. This hypothesis was so absurd. Then he ran -over the first lines of the article and said: “My dear Adolphe, -have you read this article? ‘Is not Cartouche dead, then?’ It is a -strange, a surprising article.” - -Adolphe and Marceline could hardly prevent a start, and looked at him -with uneasiness. - -Théophraste began to read the article aloud, as follows: - -“‘For some days the police have been occupying themselves with one -of the greatest of mysteries that have occurred in Paris, and with a -series of odd crimes. They are endeavoring to hide from the public -the most curious sides. Those crimes and the manner in which their -perpetrator escapes from the police at the moment they think they -have him, recall, point by point, the manner in which the celebrated -Cartouche committed his crimes. If he was not enacting a thing so -reprehensible, one could admire the perfect art with which the model is -imitated. It is Cartouche to a finish! The police themselves have never -dealt with a more mysterious bandit. Nevertheless, the administration, -very mysteriously, but, we admit, very intelligently, has sent by -some of them an abstract of Cartouche’s history, compiled from the -manuscripts of the National Libraries. They thought, subtly, that the -history of Cartouche would be useful to them, not only in the present -task, which is to prevent the criminal outrages of the new Cartouche, -and to arrest him, but also that Cartouche’s history ought to form a -part of the general instruction to all the agents of police. - -“‘Finally the news was brought to us that M. Lepine, Prefect of -Police, has ordered them to devote several evenings in the Prefecture -to listen to lectures on the authentic history of the illustrious -bandit.’ - -“What do you say to that?” demanded Théophraste with merriment. -“It is a merry farce, and the journalists are great fellows to issue -such fibs.” - -Neither Adolphe nor Marceline smiled. Marceline’s voice trembled -slightly when she begged Théophraste to continue. He began to read -again quietly: - -“‘The first crime of the new Cartouche did not at all present the -horror that we shall find in some of the others. It was a polite crime. -Let us say at once that all the crimes of which we have any knowledge, -and which they attribute to the new Cartouche, have been accomplished in -the last fifteen days, at the North, and always from eleven o’clock in -the evening to four o’clock in the morning.’” - -Mme. Longuet rose, very pale. M. Lecamus made her sit down again, by a -knowing shake of the head, and commanded her to be silent. - -Théophraste said: “What is this that they want to tell with their new -Cartouche? As for me, I only know the old one. After all, let’s see -the gallant polite crime,” and he read it over more and more calmly: - -“‘A pretty woman, well known in Paris, where her literary salon is -frequented by all those who interest themselves with debates and -with matters spiritualistic, was proceeding, toward morning, with her -toilette for bed, and preparing to take a well-earned rest, following -the fatigue which had wearied her that evening there with the disorder -of a conference at home of the most illustrious of our pneumatics, when -suddenly the casement of her balcony was opened quickly by a man with a -figure a little over the medium, still young and vigorous (this last is -in the report of the police), but with perfectly white hair. He had in -his hand a brilliant nickel revolver. - -“‘“Madame,” said he to the terrified woman, “compose yourself. -I do not wish to do you any evil. Consider me the most humble of your -servants. My name is Louis Dominique Cartouche, and I have no other -ambition than to sup at your side. By the tripes of Mme. de Phalaris, I -have the hunger of all the devils!” and he began to laugh. - -“‘Mme. de B.—let us call her Mme. de B.— believed that she was -dealing with a crazy man, but he declared he was only determined to take -supper with her, which peculiar favor he had long desired. That man was -much more dangerous than a crazy man, for it might be necessary to kill -him on account of the brilliantly nickeled revolver. - -“‘“Go,” said the man, “and call your people, and tell them to -bring here to you a good supper. Do not give them a single explanation -which would be likely to cause me any embarrassment or trouble, for if -you do you will be a dead woman.” - -“‘Mme. de B. then took her departure, for she was brave, with a -mind sufficiently elevated to enable her to face the most unexpected -adventures. She rang for the chambermaid, and a quarter of an hour later -the man with the white hair and Mme. de B. were seated opposite each -other in proper style, and apparently the best of friends. The supper -was prolonged through the night (we do not wish to affirm anything as to -this point, which is so interesting—but are a little skeptical as -to the veracity of this story), so that the man did not descend by the -sheet from the balcony until about sunrise. The beautiful Mme. de B. had -not had supper, and so she did not complain about that forced supper, -which she ended by partaking of in very good grace, nor had she seen the -necessity of reporting her adventure to the Police Commissioner. And -we see what the circumstances were. Some days later the Commissioner was -announced at Mme. de B.’s. He told her that the ring that she wore on -her finger, in which a magnificent diamond glittered, was the property -of Mlle. Emily de Bescancon. Mme. de B. was of course ignorant of its -value—or where it came from. It had been presented to her. But Mlle. -Emily de Besancon, who had seen it on the finger of Mme. de B. the day -before at a charity sale, claimed it formally as hers. She had furnished -all sorts of proofs of it, and the diamond was set in such a unique way -that there could be no doubt of it. Mme. de B. was infinitely troubled, -and was obliged to relate the adventure which had befallen her. She -spoke of the unknown, of the balcony, of the supper, of the gratitude he -had shown her for his supper, and his placing the magnificent diamond -on her finger, which he had obtained, he said, from a woman he had loved -very much, a Mme. de Phalaris, who had been dead for some time. Mme. -de B. could not be suspected. She furnished a proof—the nickel-plated -revolver that the unknown had left on the table that night. Finally -she begged the Commissioner of Police to take away from her house the -hundred bottles of champagne of every choice brand that the unknown had -sent to her the day after the eventful night, under the pretext that the -supper had been exquisite, and that the only thing that could have been -desired was champagne. She feared that the champagne, as well as the -ring, had been stolen. The Commissioner acquitted the beautiful Mme. -de B. He could do nothing at the time, the news being in everybody’s -mouth, as the world at large would henceforth interest itself in the new -Cartouche. - -“‘This little adventure, which is the least important of those we -have to relate, is the reproduction of what happened on the night of the -13th of July, 1721, at the house of Mme. la Maréchale de Boufflers. -She also was occupied in making her toilette. The young man, who came -unexpectedly by way of the balcony, had no revolver in his hand, but he -carried six English pistols. He demanded supper after presenting himself -as Louis Dominique Cartouche, and the widow of Louis François, Duke of -Boufflers, peer and Marshal of France, one of the heirs of Lille and of -Malplaquet, supped with Cartouche, and late at night. - -“‘Cartouche only complained of the champagne, and Mme. de Boufflers -received a hundred bottles of it the next day. She had them taken, by -her butler Patapon, into the cellars of a great financier. - -“‘Some time after that one of Cartouche’s bands stopped an -equipage in the streets of Paris. Cartouche leaned into the carriage to -recognize the faces. It was Mme. la Maréchale de Boufflers. He turned -toward his people. “Give them liberty to pass on, now and always, Mme. -de la Maréchale de Boufflers!” ordered he in a ringing voice, and he -bowed very low to the Maréchale, after he had slipped on her finger a -magnificent diamond that he had probably stolen from Mme. de Phalaris. -_Mme. de Phalaris never saw it again_. - -“‘Now let us pass on to the crime in the Rue du Bac.’” - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -_The Murder in the Rue Guenegaud_ - - -|MARCELINE got up as much to hide her feelings as to find out if the -nickel-plated revolver was in its usual place in the drawer. Upon her -return she was greatly agitated, and told them that the revolver had -been removed. - -Théophraste advised her to calm herself, saying there was nothing of -importance in that; and he proceeded to read about the crime in the -Rue du Bac, saying that the journalist who wrote the narrative was more -intelligent, and had made his report more interesting than the first -one. - -“However,” said he, “there are a few inaccuracies and omissions -in his narrative. According to him one is led to think that Cartouche -indulged in amorous proceedings with Mme. de Bithigne after supper. -However, such a thing should not be allowed to get abroad, as no such -thing happened. He had no other intention than to take supper with the -lady. - -“Why, my dear Marceline, if I had intended otherwise, my reputation -would have suffered, and Mme. la Maréchale de Boufflers would have -scorned me when I met her on July 13th, 1721. - -“These gentlemen also relate that I outraged Mme. la Maréchale de -Boufflers. This is all wrong. I am very fond of her on account of her -intellect, and our intercourse was most polite, as well as virtuous. -If they had only studied more, these journalists would have known that -Madame in 1721 was over sixty years old, and I dare say Cartouche knew -many younger women to play such tricks on.” - -Théophraste then took up the paper: - -“‘The history of the Rue du Bac is much more simple. The Prefect of -Police had received a note which ran: “If you dare, come and find me; -I am always at the inn in the Rue du Bac, with Bernard.” It was signed -“Cartouche.” The thing had occurred after Mme. de Bithigne had told -her story. The Prefect thought over his case and laid his plans. - -“‘That same evening, a quarter of an hour after midnight, half a -dozen policemen raided the tavern in the Rue du Bac. They were met on -the stairs by a man, who, although still young, had perfectly white -hair. He was endowed with almost superhuman strength, and, on seeing the -police, he picked up a chair near by and started striking them. Three -of them were stunned, and the others only just had time to drag the -prostrated bodies of their companions into the street to prevent them -from being burned by a fire started on the first landing by this man -with white hair. The man saved himself by jumping from roof to roof over -spaces more than thirty feet high. - -“‘The new Cartouche,’ continued Théophraste, amid the scared -silence of Marceline and M. Le-camus, ‘the new Cartouche has taken -possession of the Rue Guenegaud. Several days ago they found in a -vault-like passage there under the floor the body of a young doctor, who -had been active at the death of Mme. de Bardinoldi, the mystery of which -had baffled the police and press. The police had not confided to any one -the fact that pinned to the young doctor’s tunic was a card on which -some one had written in pencil: “We will meet each other in the other -world, M. de Traneuse.” This was without doubt a crime of the new -Cartouche, for the old one did in fact assassinate at this place an -engineer named Traneuse. Cartouche had knocked him on the head with a -stick, and the young doctor had had his skull fractured with a blunt -instrument.’” - -Théophraste laid down the paper, and, looking at Adolphe and Marceline, -remarked that they both looked as if they were expecting a like -catastrophe. - -“Why, my dear Adolphe,” said he, “it is ridiculous for you to be -angry at such pleasantries. I take the opportunity of telling you that I -often frequent the Rue Guenegaud. That history of M. de Traneuse was to -me the beginning of one of the prettiest farces that ever I played with -M. d’Argenson’s spies. Following the death of M. de Traneuse (who -had allowed some very improper talk about me), I was followed by -two patrols of the guard, who covered me and rendered all resistance -impossible. But they were ignorant that I was Cartouche, and satisfied -themselves by conducting me to the Ford l’Avegne, which was the -easiest prison in Paris. In this prison they put debtors, drunks, and -disorderly people, and the people who have not paid their fines. They -were sure that they had taken Cartouche on the 10th of January, but -on the evening of the 9th Cartouche had made his escape, and took the -direction of his police. It was time, for everybody was now searching -the streets of Paris. - -“My dear Marceline, and my dear Adolphe, you look as if you were at -a funeral. That article does not lose its quota of a certain amount of -wit. At first I thought it only the jest of a cheap journalist, but I -see now that it is very serious, believe me. Wait for the history of the -calf! Ah! We have not done yet with the affair of the Petits Augustines! -Listen!” - -Théophraste picked up his paper, adjusted his gold spectacles, and -began again: - -“‘That which was the most extraordinary in this adventure was that -several times during light days they have been on the point of capturing -this modern Cartouche, and that he always escaped just as the other -did, by way of the chimneys. History teaches us that the true Cartouche -designed on the 11th of June, 1721, to sack the Hotel Desmarets, Rue des -Petits Augustines. It was one of his men, Le Ratichon, who had given -him the idea. But Cartouche and Le Ratichon had been imprisoned by the -police. As soon as Cartouche was in the house, the bailiffs hastened -there and the place was invaded. He tranquilly closed the doors of the -salons and extinguished the lights, undressed himself, climbed into the -chimney, descended by another way into the kitchen, where he found a -scullion, killed the scullion, disguised himself with the dead man’s -clothes, and went out in fine form from the hotel, killing two bailiffs -with two pistol shots because they asked him news of Cartouche. Well, -what will you say when you know that our Cartouche was surrounded the -day before yesterday in a confectioner’s shop in a quarter of the -Augustines, escaped by the chimney, after having put on over all his -effects, to prevent soiling them, the pastry cook’s blouse, which had -been found on the roofs, also his pantaloons. As to the pastry cook, -they found him half buried in his bake oven. But, before putting him -there, as a humane precaution, the murderer, Cartouche, had assassinated -him.’ ” - -Here Théophraste, interrupting himself again, cried: - -“Previously, previously. I had previously assassinated him.... But -why do you fly into the corners? Are you afraid? Let us see, my dear -Adolphe, my dear Marceline, a little coolness— you will need it for -the history of the calf.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - -_The Calf’s Revenge_ - - -|NEVER had Mme. Longuet or M. Lecamus been so upset before at the -reading of a newspaper. The account of the atrocious murder did not seem -to disturb Théophraste a bit. When he came to the part where Cartouche -had placed the baker in the bake oven, Mme. Longuet groaned and could -not sit still. M. Lecamus was no less disturbed, and they both rose and -looked to Théophraste in amazement. - -He then began to read the account of M. Houdry’s calf: - -“‘M. Houdry was a head butcher on one of the small streets. -Everybody came to him to buy veal, which was his specialty. This report -explained itself by a fact so unusual that we can believe it only on the -affirmation of M. le Commissioner of Police Mifroid, who conducted the -first inquest. We know that all the butchers of Paris get their meat -from the abattoirs. It was against the law for them to kill anything at -home.’ - -“That is accurate,” said Théophraste, “that is exactly right; M. -Houdry explained that to me several times, and the confidence that he -placed in me by telling me the mystery of his abattoir astonished me not -a little. Why should he confide to me a fact which was not known to his -wife, his private clerk, a foundling whom he considered as one of the -family, and his brother-in-law, who brought the calf to him each night? -Why? Ah! No one knows. Perhaps it was because he couldn’t help it. -You know very well that no one can escape his fate. As for me, I said to -him: ‘Take care, you might end by being one of the calves!’ I resume -my reading: ‘That calf was brought to him secretly each night by his -brother-in-law, and as his abattoir was on a little court, behind which -was the open country, no one ever saw a live calf at M. Houdry’s. - -“‘The inquest will tell us from whence the calf came. M. Mifroid, -the Commissioner of Police, has decided to sift the matter to the -bottom, and penetrate the whole mystery. - -“‘It appears that M. Houdry had his special way of killing his calf, -a way that gave quality to the veal. He used to cut the calf’s throat -with a bleeder.’ - -“Is it necessary for me,” said Théophraste, “to show you what a -bleeder is?” - -Going to the drawer of the sideboard, he took out the carving knife, and -while explaining that a bleeder was twice as large as that, he passed -it up and down M. Lecamus’ face to make him understand the method of -killing the calf. He tried to get M. Lecamus to hold the knife, but by -this time he was too frightened, and had retreated into a corner of the -room, fearing that Théophraste would do something violent. However, he -laughed at their temerity and sat down to read the further account. - -“‘Yesterday, leaving early, monsieur shut himself in his abattoir as -usual with his calf. He was aided by his clerk in tying the calf to the -hanger. The calf being tied, the clerk busied himself in rinsing the -casks before the abattoir, which the butcher always kept shut when -killing. - -“‘Ordinarily, M. Houdry took from twenty to thirty minutes to kill -his calf, gut it and bleach it. Thirty-five minutes passed, and the -double doors of the abattoir were not opened. The clerk, who had -finished rinsing, noticed it with the greatest astonishment. Often M. -Houdry had called him to scald the head, scrape the hairs off, and clean -the ears. That particular day his master did not call him. Meanwhile, -Mme. Houdry, the butcher’s wife, appeared at the door of the court. - -“‘“What isthe matter there?” she asked. “Is he not finished -yet?” - -“‘“It is true, madame, he is a very long time.” - -“‘Then she called, “Houdry! Houdry!” No response. She crossed -the court and opened the abattoir door. The calf immediately escaped, -and began gracefully jumping around her. She looked at the calf at once -with emotion, for at that time the calf should have been dead. Then -she struck a single blow on the double door, and called again to her -husband, who did not answer her. She turned toward the clerk. “M. -Houdry is not there,” she said. “Are you sure he has not gone -out?” - -“‘“Oh, madame, I am perfectly sure of it. He has not come out and -no one has gone in. I have not left the court,” replied the clerk, -springing at the calf’s head as it continued running around. “I am -sure he is there. He is just hiding to frighten you.” - -“‘“It will be better to hide the calf. Houdry! Houdry!” - -“‘The clerk, with a turn of the halter, had tied the calf. Entering -with Mme. Houdry he uttered a cry of surprise and said: “Oh, that is -queer! When we came in there was only one calf, a single calf, madame, -a calf which was tied to the hanger, and which gambols in the court now, -and here is another calf on the crossbeam.” Yes, indeed, there was -another calf on the tinel. - -“‘“I see it now,” said Mme. Houdry. “What a small calf! But -you are foolish; there should be two calves.” - -“‘“Never, madame, never.” - -“‘“Well, you see perfectly the calf on the beam?” - -“‘The little clerk and Mme. Houdry drew near to the beam, which was -in the shadow, and how astonished they were to see the kind of white -meat which was hanging from the beam. They had never seen such white -meat, and this meat was arranged exactly like the calf’s. They -accounted for this finally by deciding that it was not veal meat. - -“‘“What a curious calf,” the clerk continued to repeat. - -“‘“It is not a small calf,” said Mme. Houdry. “No! no!” - -“‘“All the same, madame, they have decorated the skin on the -stomach with the lancet. See! - -What pretty patterns! There are two hearts, some arrows, some flowers -...Ah! those beautiful flowers.” The clerk raised up the lungs from -which hung the heart. - -“‘“It is a beautiful pluck,” said he, “and has not been -trufled. The heart is good.” - -“‘“Yes, he had a good heart!” groaned Mme. Houdry, who was all -at once terrified at what she had said. - -“‘Thereupon the clerk began to weep, and without knowing why, dipped -his hands in a pail of cold water which was placed beside the boiler, -looking for the head of the animal, and he drew out a head. But when she -saw the head, Mme. Houdry fainted, for she had recognized the head of -her husband. - -“‘Mme. Houdry had immediately recognized her husband’s head, and -the clerk himself examined it more closely, to be sure that it was the -head of his master. It was a well-cut head—well refined, well scalded, -well scraped. The moustache and hair had been shaved, as they should be, -and but for something unforeseen, if need be, the head of the butcher -would have passed for the head of a calf. - -“‘The clerk in his turn fainted, and let the head of M. Houdry roll -away. - -“‘Some minutes later the tragedy was discovered, judging from the -disturbance in the quarter.’ - -“The journalist,” said Théophraste, “was not of the opinion -that the calf had decapitated the butcher, and that also was put before -Cartouche’s name—that poor Cartouche.” He shrugged his shoulders -once more, and then, having raised his eyes above the paper, he sought -in the two corners of the dining-room, where M. Lecamus and his wife -had taken refuge. They had disappeared. He called them and they did not -answer. He tried to open the door of the landing, and it would not open. -He then rushed to the chimney, which was large enough for him to get -up, and scaled it with the same facility as he had descended the chimney -when the boiler was beginning to boil at M. Houdry’s, the same morning -that he had decapitated that unfortunate man. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - -_Théophraste Again Hears of His Treasures_ - - -|THE clamber over the roofs of the Rue Ge-rondo on a cold rainy night -had a physical and moral effect on Théophraste. He had taken cold and -was suffering in consequence. From a moral point of view it had made -him change his whole view of these events. While he had been reading -the accounts of these crimes with which the new Cartouche had been -terrifying Paris, he had shown a callous indifference, but now he -commenced to hold himself responsible for many of the atrocities, and -especially for the murder of M. Houdry, which he had before facetiously -blamed on the calf. - -He often recalled nocturnal visits by the route he was now following, -and several bloody crimes came back to his memory, disgusting him, and -making him weep bitter tears of useless remorse. - -It was, however, too late. In spite of all his sufferings, in spite of -M. de la Nox’s invocations, and the torture they had submitted him to, -Cartouche was not dead. - -And that evening, then, like many other criminal evenings, he led his -damned soul over the roofs of Paris. He wept. He cursed that mysterious, -irresistible force, which from the depths of centuries commanded him -to kill. He cursed the influence which made him kill. He thought of his -wife—of Adolphe. He bitterly regretted the hours of passed happiness -between those two beings so dear to him. He excused them for running -away. He pardoned them for their terror. He resolved never again to -trouble their peaceful days with his bloody incoherencies. “Let -me disappear,” he said to himself. “Let me hide my shame and my -original defect in the midst of the desert. They will forget me. I shall -forget myself. Let me profit by these logical moments, when my brain, -released momentarily from the Other, discusses, weighs, deduces, and -concludes and sees in the present.” - -It was not Cartouche who spoke, it was Théophraste, who cried to -Cartouche: “Let us fly! Since I love Marceline, let us fly! Since I -love Adolphe, let us fly! One day they will be happy without me! There -is no longer happiness with me! Adieu! adieu! Marceline, adored woman, -faithful wife! Farewell, Adolphe, precious, consoling friend! Farewell! -Théophraste tells you farewell!” He wept. Then he said aloud: “I -come, Cartouche!” - -Then he plunged into the darkness, going from gutter to gutter, from -roof to roof, sliding from high walls with safety, protected, like a -somnambulist, by Providence. - -And now who is that man who, with his head lowered, his back curved, -his hands in his pockets, swayed like a poor wretch in the wind and rain -which fell profusely all the tedious way? He followed the road which -skirts the railroad. It is a straight road, bordered by small, weak -trees, plain common broom-straw—sad ornaments for a departmental -road—running along the side of the railroad. Whence comes this man, -with his hands in his pockets, or, rather, this shade of a man? The -plain extends to the right and the left without an undulation, without -the rising of a hillock, without the hollow of a riser. All this can be -seen, for this is not a night scene; it is broad daylight, on the track, -straight on by the side of the road. - -Trains pass each other from time to time, local trains, fast trains, -freight trains, rattling along with an occasional ceasing when one -hears in the wind the ting, ting, ting of the bell of the disks at the -station. There is one station before, and one behind. They are small -stations, and are five kilometers apart. Between the two stations there -is a straight double track, but no viaduct, no tunnel, no bridge, not -even a culvert. - -As I said before, from whence came the sad shade of a man? - -It is Théophraste. He has resolved to fly—no matter where—far from -his wife. - -After a night passed from gutter to gutter, not knowing where to direct -his steps, and not caring at all, he goes into a railway station. He -gets into a train without a ticket, gets out of the train at another -station. - -How often does it happen that the control registers of railway stations -are badly made on account of the number of travelers. - -Behold him, then, on the road at the entrance of a village which follows -the railroad track. And who is it that watches him as he crosses the -threshold of a little house at the entrance of a village? - -Mme. Petito herself! - -It was the first time that Mme. Petito had seen M. Longuet since he cut -off the ears of her husband. Upon seeing him, Mme. Petito became highly -indignant, and commenced upbraiding Théophraste. - -After all sorts of imprecations—the result of the barbarity of -Théophraste—Mme. Petito informed Théophraste that Signor Petito had -found the treasures of the Chopinettes, that he had put them in a safe -place, and that the treasures were the richest on earth, treasures which -were worth more than two ears. They were as good as the ears of Signor -Petito, and so they were quits. - -Théophraste, in the course of this discourse, found it difficult to -say very much, but this did not disturb him. He was glad of the anger -of Mme. Petito, for having furnished him with such valuable information, -and he said: “I have found my treasures, for I have found Signor -Petito again.” - -Mme. Petito burst into satanic laughter. - -“Signor Petito,” she exclaimed, “is in the train.” - -“In which train?” - -“In the train which will pass under your very nose! It will carry my -husband beyond the frontier. Get in, then, my dear monsieur; climb in -if you wish to speak to him. But hurry, for he passes by in an hour, -and they do not distribute tickets at the next station,” and her laugh -became more satanic still, so much so that Théophraste almost wished -that he was deaf again. He saluted her and walked away rapidly along -the railroad track. When he was alone he said: “Come, come! I must get -some information about my treasures from Signor Petito himself. But how? -He is in the train which will pass under my nose... - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - -_The Express Train’s Disappearance_ - - -|IT is necessary now for us to relate the extraordinary events which -happened on the railway. At this part of the track, which is double, -there were two stations about four miles apart, through which the -express trains ran quite frequently. In the evening after Théophraste -had been speaking to Mme. Petito, the express train had passed through -the first station, and the station master was waiting for the signal -from the second station, when suddenly a message came through saying -that the train had not arrived yet. The station master could not -understand it. The train had passed through his station fifteen minutes -before, and would not have taken all that time to go the short distance -to the other station. He went out and looked up the track. There was no -sign of the train, and all was quiet. Again the signal came back, and -the second station master said that he would walk along the track to see -if he could find the cause of the delay. The first man said he would -do the same, and they both started running down the track, followed by -other men in the stations. Although it was broad daylight, nothing could -be seen of the train, and the two parties met on the track. The first -station master was greatly agitated, and wrung his hands in despair. He -knew the train had passed through his station. He was sure of it. The -report of his assistant confirmed it. Where could it have disappeared -to? The excitement and fear was too much for him, and without any -warning he fell dead at their feet with heart failure. - -The men ran hither, thither, on both sides of the tracks, but no sign -of the train was there. At last they gave up the search, and placing the -dead body of the station master on a rough bier of sticks and leaves, -they made their way sadly back to the station. - -They had not gone far when one of the party cried out: “Look ahead, -there’s the train!” - -And there, a few yards outside the station, on the very track they had -traveled on, was a wagon and baggage car of the disappeared train! - -They were all very astonished, and were running, shouting, toward the -train, when they suddenly stopped. Peering out of the doors of the train -was a peculiar head. It had no ears, and appeared as though the door had -been shut violently, catching the man’s neck. They called to him as -soon as they saw him, but he did not answer. The head just swayed from -one side to the other, rocked by the wind, which was blowing in great -gusts. Upon the head was curly hair, and the cravat around the white -neck was untied, floating in the wind. - -On approaching, they saw the door of the coach was covered with blood, -and on examination saw that the man’s head was held to the door by a -piece of rag. He had evidently opened the door and poked his head out, -when somebody must have shut the door again and decapitated him. The -two men who carried the dead body of the station master uttered a cry -of dismay, and placing their burden on the track, made an examination of -the trucks. They found no one in the first one, and opening the door -of the second, found that it was empty save for the dead man’s body, -which had been stripped of all its clothing. - -The news of this fantastic horror spread rapidly in the villages on the -road, and an enormous crowd gathered at the little station. - -The police were sent for, but they were unable to get any clue as to who -the strange man was, or where the train with all its travelers had gone -to. - -They were, however, very quiet about it, and only at the inquest did the -facts become known. - -As it has been said, the tracks between these stations contained no -bridge or tunnel, but ran through a flat, desolate country, marked by -no hills. The only thing to break the line of the track was a short -side line which ran into a disused quarry, which had been used as a sand -quarry by a glassmaker. This had been abandoned many years ago, and had -not been used since. - -On looking at the plan one would at once think that the presence of this -branch line was an explanation of the train disaster. But this was not -so, as subsequent events will prove. In fact, so simple a solution of -the problem would soon have been discovered by the station men. - -Wandering along the road which followed the track, Théophraste had -noticed the little side track, and he had seen that the switch had been -left unlocked. This would have had no significance to him before he had -the interview with Mme. Petito, but now he saw an excellent opportunity -of getting at Signor Petito, who was on the train. He of course could -not get on the train while it was in motion. He would open the switch -and wait for the train to come up. The engineer would be sure to see it -and stop his train. Here was his opportunity. - -This was simple enough, and he did as he intended. He turned the switch, -and, going along the track, hid behind the bushes to await the express. -He waited and waited for a long time, but no express came. He became -impatient, and looked up and down the track, hoping to hear it, or see -its smoke. - -However, after half an hour, he rose, and, although tired of waiting, -went down the track to see what had happened. He had gone about half the -distance to the station, when he met a train-fitter who was going along -the track to look for the train. Asking him what had become of the -train, he turned back up the line, and arriving at the point where he -had been hiding, he discovered the baggage car and carriage which were -to be found a few minutes later by the trainmen from the station. - -In his astonishment he asked how they could have got there without -passing him. He had not left the track, so it could not have passed him. - -Suddenly he saw the head of a man at the carriage door; the head had -no ears, and so he quickly recognized it as that of Signor Petito. -He climbed up into the carriage, all excitement, and searching the -carriage, suddenly had an idea. He would disguise himself in Signor -Petito’s clothes! He quickly undressed, and stripping the dead body -of all its clothes put them on, and tied his own up in a bundle. He then -descended from the carriage, and fumbling in the pockets of the dead -man’s clothes, drew out an old pocketbook. He became feverishly -excited as he searched through the papers, seeking some trace of his -treasures. But he found nothing, and he found it difficult to hide his -disappointment, for Signor Petito had carried the secret of the treasure -to the grave. - -Mme. Petito was unable to give him any information, for soon after -hearing of her husband’s death she became insane, and remained so to -the end of her days. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII - -_Not To Be Explained!_ - - -|AS Théophraste was searching through the pocketbook of Signor Petito, -he had wandered unconsciously away from the track into the fields. Upon -returning, he was astonished to find the carriage had disappeared. He -looked up and down the track, but could find no trace of it. Which was -the most astonishing, the disappearance or the apparition of the train? -He could not make it out, and the events had thrown him into a state -bordering on prostration. - -He went down the track, examined the switch, and put it back in its -original position and locked it, taking the key with him. - -He walked on to the upper station, but with the exception of the -signalman everybody had gone out in search of the train. He interrogated -him, but could only learn that the train had been reported but never -came. - -Théophraste insisted. “They certainly did report the express to you -from the preceding station?” - -“Yes, sir. I am certain. Look at my signal. It is still put to allow -the train to pass. The station master and all the men of the station -preceding saw the express pass and telegraphed to us. In short, -monsieur, you see my little yellow arm. A catastrophe between the -preceding station and this one is not possible; there is not a single -bridge or viaduct. I was mounted on the ladder that you see leaning -against that great vat. From there one can see the whole line, as far as -the other station. I saw our people gesticulating on the line, but did -not see the train.” - -“Strange, very strange!” - -“Yes, indeed. You must trust my little yellow arm.” - -“Inexplicable.” - -“There is nothing more inexplicable.” - -“There are things more inexplicable still than that which have -happened.” - -“What, then?” - -“A carriage without a locomotive appeared and disappeared, and no one -could tell from whence it came. It disappeared, as it appeared.... Did -you not see a carriage with a man at the door pass by here?” - -“Monsieur,” said the signalman angrily, “you mock me! You are -exaggerating because you do not believe the story of the express which -did not come. But look, monsieur, at my signal; that is proof enough. It -cannot make a mistake.” - -M. Longuet replied to the signalman: “If you did not see the express, -neither did I.” - -In that “neither did I” commenced the inward thoughts of M. Longuet, -who went away in Signor Petito’s clothes. M. Longuet had an idea. His -misfortune was so extreme and so incurable that he resolved to die -for the others. With a little cunning this was possible, since he had -reclothed himself in Signor Petito’s clothes. Nothing would hinder him -from leaving his on the bank of the first river he came to. - -This would constitute a suicidal act, according to the law. - -M. Longuet was moved to the thought of addressing a letter to Marceline -and Adolphe. On the banks of what river would he put his clothes? How -could he re-enter Paris? However, these thoughts passed through his head -momentarily, for there was only one thing which was really of importance -to him, and that was the explanation of the disappearance of the train. - -This explanation was given to Théophraste by M. Mifroid, under the -circumstances which we shall now report. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX - -_M. Milford Recognizes Cartouche_ - - -|AT midnight an artisan was singing in a square in Paris, at the side -of the ancient Quarter d’Enfer, the hymn which several months later -became so popular, the “International.” That artisan was working -with several companions repairing the track, which had sustained certain -damages, following the construction of a new drain. The track was bent -in certain places, and even a house in that situation, a heavy new house -of seven stories, was leaning. The city engineers were much concerned -by this state of affairs. They knew that in this quarter the catacombs -projected their innumerable tunnels, their thousands of drains, and that -certain buildings were in a very precarious state. - -There are ancient Gallic-Roman quarries under those tottering walls, and -so they determined on some work to make these houses secure. - -The day which interests us saw the end of this work. The artisan who -sang the “International” had, with his companions, completed the -stopping of a hole in the subterranean vault that they had previously -strengthened with very heavy pillars, several meters high. - -It was just about twilight when they relinquished their work, and the -workman who sang the “International” had almost finished stopping up -the hole at that hour. - -At the same hour, not far away on the square, in front of an electrical -lamp store, a few people stood about on the pavement, and M. Mifroid -was buying a few lamps for his men. He had paid for them and was just -leaving the store with his package, when he saw in front of the store -a young man with white hair. He was so taken aback that he slipped into -his pockets, without having paid for them, several electrical lamps. -Always courageous, M. Mifroid bounded toward the man, crying: “It is -Cartouche!” He had recognized him, for since the revenge of the calf, -all the commissioners of police had the portrait of Cartouche in their -pockets. We should add that Mme. Longuet herself, and M. Lecamus, -immediately after the reading relative to the calf, had shut M. Longuet -up, with the design of sending an urgent communication to the nearest -Commissariat. - -Then M. Mifroid, who had known our hero as Théophraste, when he had -dined with him, and who recognized him as Cartouche, cried out in -bounding toward him: “It is Cartouche!” - -Théophraste had known for days what the police wanted with him, and -when he saw Mifroid and heard the words “It is Cartouche!” he said -to himself: “It is time for me to get out of this.” And he ran down -the street. - -The commissioner ran on behind him, and was just grabbing him by the -collar, when they both fell down the hole which the workman was filling. - -The man had left for a few minutes to drink with his companions at the -saloon near by, and on his return he completed his work, not knowing -that the two men had fallen, and so they were imprisoned. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX - -_M. Mifroid’s Theory_ - - -|WHEN M. Mifroid recovered sufficiently from the shock of his fall, the -first thing that worried him was that he would be “out of the game.” -Even at the moment of his fall his presence of mind did not fail him, -and he knew that he was falling into one of the thousand-year-old -quarries, which crossed under Paris in their intricate meanderings. He -experienced that feeling accompanied by a light, painful torpor which -follows a swoon caused by shock. - -He was in the catacombs! - -His first thought was to try and find the lights which he had just -bought, and so find out how the passage lay. He felt sure that they -must have fallen through the hole with him. The darkness seemed to weigh -heavily on his eyelids, and a great feeling of depression came over -him. Without getting up, for by an imprudent movement he would lose the -knowledge of the exact place where he had fallen, he spread his hands -about him and was relieved to find his package again. He feared at first -that the lamps would be broken, but soon felt that it was not so; and -breaking open the package, he pressed the button on one of the lamps. -The cavern was lighted with a fairy brightness, and he could not keep -from smiling as he thought of the unfortunates who, shut up in some -cavern, generally drag themselves along, holding their breath, behind a -paltry snuff of a candle, which at any moment might flicker out. - -He got up then and examined the vault. He knew of the work of repairing -the track, and knew that they neared the end, but when he saw that the -hole through which he had fallen was closed, a feeling akin to fear came -over him. - -Now some meters of earth separated him from the outside world, unless it -was possible for him to get up to this place which they had filled in. -He, however, flashed his light around, and after surveying the walls and -the vaults, he came across a prostrate body. The sight at first gave -him a shock, but on examination he found it to be the body of M. -Longuet—the body of the new Cartouche. He examined it and noticed that -it did not bear a single trace of serious wounds. The man was stunned, -as he had been himself, and without doubt he would not be slow in coming -out of that swoon. He recalled that M. Lecamus had presented him to his -friend in the Champs Elysées, and behold, he was now mixed up with him -like the worst kind of assassins. - -Just then M. Longuet breathed a sigh, stretched his arm, and complained -of some pains. He arose, and, saluting M. Mifroid, asked him where -they were. M. Mifroid told him. He did not seem at all distressed, but -drawing forth his portfolio, he traced some lines which resembled a -plan, and showed them to M. Mifroid, saying: - -“M. le Commissioner, we are at the bottom of the catacombs. It is an -extraordinary event. How we are going to get out I do not know, but that -which is distressing me most at the present moment is what has happened -to the express train.” M. Mifroid demanded some explanation, and M. -Longuet related to him, with the closest detail, the disappearance -and re-appearance of the carriage and the train. For the better -understanding of the track he drew a plan out as follows: - -A H D C B - -This he showed to M. Mifroid. - -He explained how the train had disappeared between A and B. How he had -turned the switch at H and waited at D for the train to pass on to -the side track. He described how the train had never come, and how the -carriage had appeared and disappeared. - -M. Mifroid became greatly interested, and begged him to repeat the -story. “And when did this happen?” asked he. “It has not yet been -reported to me.” - -“It happened several hours ago,” said Théophraste, “and it should -have been reported by now.” - -M. Mifroid examined the plan for about five minutes, and after -reflecting for a while, asked Théophraste a few questions. Suddenly he -burst out laughing and said: “Why, what a difficult problem. I have -solved it in five minutes. - -“You said there were five men at A and five men at B. It passes -through B, but not A. You were at D, and because you did not see, it -did not pass? Consequently, your train vanished. Well, I say the train -exists between A and B, and must be somewhere between B and I, that is -sure; the train is in the sandhill.” - -“I swear not!” said Théophraste. “I was at D expecting the train, and I -did not leave the track.” - -“It can be nowhere else, for five men saw it pass B and the five men -at A are equally certain it didn’t pass them. Therefore I say that as -only you were at D it passed that point, and undoubtedly switched off -on I, since it could not be otherwise. By a necessary chance, while the -first cars of the train were engulfed in the sand hillock, which covered -it up (imagine that the line H is too short for the engineer to have had -time to avoid the accident), the yoke chain of the last car was broken, -and so the last carriage was forced by the baggage car to descend as far -as D, on the track, which was slightly up-grade, since it wrent into -a sand hillock. Then after going down to H and back to D, you saw the -carriage and Signor Petito in the doorway. Your Signor Petito opened the -carriage door, perhaps to throw himself out, as soon as he was aware of -the imminent catastrophe, and as the latter caused a shock, it closed -the door on the head of your Signor Petito. - -“Now, having despoiled Signor Petito of his clothing, you walk into -the fields to read his papers. When you return the carriage is no longer -there. Now, then. Since there was a declivity, and since there was a -wind, the carriage, after having rolled as far as H, is found on the -line A—B, where the trainmen certainly have found it by this time. Do -you understand now? Do you understand all except that you did not see -the train pass D? You are deaf sometimes, M. Longuet?” - -“I have already had the honor of telling you so.” - -“Imagine that you were deaf while you were waiting for the train at D. -You did not hear then?” - -“No, but I should have seen it.” - -“Already you did not hear it. That is much. Possibly you turned your -head for three seconds. Three seconds, that is to say, one second and -thirty hundredths longer than is necessary to see an express train of -four carriages pass before you, which, being late, made 120 to the hour. -M. Longuet, the train disappeared, or, rather, seemed to disappear, -because you were deaf and turned your head for a brief space of time.” - -M. Longuet raised his arms to the limit toward the vaults of the -catacombs. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI - -_Lost in the Catacombs_ - - -|WHEN M. Longuet had recovered from the emotion that M. Mifroid’s -explanation of the train had caused him, he went through his pockets and -handed over to M. Mifroid a revolver and a large knife that he had found -in Signor Petito’s pocket. - -He was now perfectly rational and felt free from the influences of -Cartouche. He, however, dreaded the return of these fancies, and asked -M. Mifroid to accept these articles in order to defend himself should he -again be possessed with this evil spirit. - -Continuing the search through his pockets, he produced seven lamps like -those of M. Mifroid, and so between them they had thirteen of these -lights, which would give them 520 hours of continuous light. They, -however, worked out that they could do ten hours a day without light -on account of sleep, and their calculations gave them fourteen hours of -light per day. - -“M. Longuet,” said M. Mifroid, “you are wonderful. Cartouche -himself could not have done better; but what is the good of carrying -them around with us? They will only be a nuisance. Are you hungry, M. -Longuet? How long do you think you could remain without food?” - -“I am sure,” he declared, “that I could remain this way -forty-eight hours.” - -“Well, you will have to remain like this for seven days, perhaps. I -will throw these ten lamps away, as after the third one I am afraid we -shall not have much need of the rest.” - -“Where are you going?” asked M. Longuet. “No matter where,” -answered his companion; “but we must go anywhere rather than stay -here, for there is not a ray of hope here. We will reflect while -walking. Walking is our only salvation, but by walking seven days we -will risk all chance of arriving anywhere, unless we make a plan.” -“Why not make an exact plan?” asked M. Longuet. - -“Because I have observed in all the stories of the catacombs there -were always marked plans which the unfortunate wanderers have lost. They -were confused by the marked places, and not understanding anything -about it, they became overwhelmed with despair. In our situation it is -necessary to shun all causes for despair. You are not without hope, M. -Longuet?” - -“Oh, by no means, M. Mifroid. I will add, even, that were I not so -hungry, your pleasant society aiding, I should not at all regret -the roofs of the Rue Gerondo. You must tell me some stories of the -catacombs, M. Mifroid, to let me forget my hunger.” - -“Why, certainly, my friend. There is the story of the ‘Jailer,’ -and the story of the ‘Four Soldiers.’” - -“With which will you begin?” - -“I am first going to tell you of the catacombs in general; this will -make you understand why it is necessary to walk a long time to get out -of them.” - -Here M. Longuet interrupted him, asking why in ending his sentences he -always made a gesture with the thumb of his right hand. - -“That means, M. le Commissioner, that the gesture has become a habit -with you—putting on thumb-screws?” - -M. Mifroid declared that that was not the reason. He often gave himself -up to sculpture, and he explained to him that it was the habit of a -modeler. He buried his hand in his discoveries, just as he did in his -clay.” - -M. Longuet expressed astonishment that a police commissioner should -interest himself in sculpture. However, it afterward transpired that M. -Mifroid’s knowledge of this art was the means of their final escape -from the catacombs. - -M. Mifroid, in reporting, the events of the catacombs, wrote as follows: - -“The way that we were following was a vast passage of four or five -meters high. The walls were very dry, and the electric light which lit -our way allowed us to see a hard stone, devoid of all vegetation, even -of moisture. That proof was not one to rejoice M. Longuet’s heart, for -he was beginning to be very thirsty. I knew that in the catacombs there -were some threads of running water. I thanked heaven for not putting us -on one of these threadlike streams, for we should only have lost time in -imbibing there, and, moreover, as we could not carry away any water, it -would only have made us more thirsty. - -“M. Longuet objected to the idea that we were walking without caring -where. I resolved to make him understand the necessity of walking -on anywhere, in relating to him that which was the truth, that the -engineers, when repairing the track, had descended into the catacombs, -and had sought in vain to discover their limits, and to find an outlet -they were obliged to give it up, and they built those pillars as -supports, and built the arch with masons’ materials; they descended -directly into the hole, before closing it finally over our heads. Not -to discourage M. Longuet, I informed him that, to my knowledge, we -could count on at least 520 kilometers of catacombs, but there was not a -single reason why they should not have had more. Evidently, if I had -not warned him immediately of the difficulty of getting out of there, he -would have manifested his despair the second day of the walk. - -“‘I think, then,’ I said to him, ‘that they have dug this soil -from the third to the seventeenth century. For during 1400 years, man -had removed from under the soil the materials that were necessary to -construct above. If at any time there was not enough above, there was -always more below. That above returns below, and goes out thence,’ -and as we still found ourselves under the ancient Quarter d’Enfer, I -recalled to him that in 1777 a house in the Rue d’Enfer was swallowed -up by the earth below. It was precipitated to 28 meters below the soil -in its court. Some months later, in 1778, seven persons met death in a -similar caving in. I cited still several more recent examples, dwelling -upon the accident to persons. He understood, and said to me: ‘In -short, it is often more dangerous to walk above than below.’ - -“I kept on, seeing that he was impressed, and he spoke no more of his -hunger, and forgot his thirst. I profited by it to make him lengthen his -step, and I burst into the most entrancing song which came into my mind. -He took it up, and we sang in chorus:= - -```“‘Au pas, comerade, au pas, - -````La route est belle! - -```J’aura du frictiti la bas, - -````Dans la gamelle!’= - -“It was this which made him keep step. - -“One gets tired of singing very quickly in the catacombs, because -the voice does not carry; so when we had got tired M. Longuet asked a -hundred more questions. He asked me how many meters there were over our -heads. I told him that that could vary, from the latest reports, from -5m.82 and 79 meters. Sometimes, I told him, the crust of earth was so -thin that it was necessary to extend the foundations of the tombs as far -as the bottom of the catacombs. So that we might, in the course of our -peregrinations, encounter the pillars of Saint Sulpice de St. Etienne du -Mont, of the Pantheon of the Val de Grace, of the Odeon. These monuments -are erected in some way on the subterranean pilings. - -“‘Really, in the course of our peregrinations we risk encountering -some of these subterranean pilings.’ But he had his own fixed idea. - -“‘And in the course of our peregrinations, is there any chance of -our coming upon an exit? Are there many ways out of the catacombs?’ - -“‘There are not,’ I replied; ‘there is need of them. First of -all, there are egresses into the quarter.’ - -“‘So much the better,’ he interrupted. - -“‘And other ways out that some know of, but by which none are ever -admitted, but which exist, nevertheless, in the caves of the Pantheon, -in those of the College of Henry IV, of the Hospital of the Undi, of -some houses in the Rue d’Enfer, of Vangirard, of the Tombe Issoire at -Passy, at Chaillot, at Saint Maur, at Clarenton, at Gentilly—more -than sixty. In order to safeguard building construction, an ordinance -was made which closed all the openings to the catacombs. - -It is that ordinance, my dear M. Longuet, which has almost walled us -in.’ - -“At that moment we struck an enormous pillar. I examined its -construction, and said without stopping: ‘Here is a pillar which -was used by the architects of Louis XVI in 1778, then of the -Consolidation.’ - -“‘Poor Louis XVI!’ said M. Longuet. ‘He had better have -consolidated royalty.’ - -“M. Longuet had taken the electric lamp from my hands, and did not -cease to throw the rays to the right and left, as if he was looking for -something. I asked him the reason of this, which would fatigue the eyes. - -“‘I am looking for some corpses,’ he said. - -“‘Some corpses!’ - -“‘Skeletons. I have heard that the walls of the catacombs are hung -with skeletons.’ - -“‘Oh, my friend’—I already called him friend, his serenity -in such a serious emergency delighting me so much—‘that ghastly -tapestry is only a little longer than a kilometer. That kilometer justly -called an ossuary, on account of the skulls, the radius, the cubitus, -tibias, shin-bones, phalanges, the thorax, and other small bones which -were made into unique ornaments. But what ornaments! Ornaments of three -million skeletons, that were brought from the cemeteries and acropolis -of Saint Midard Clucy, Saint Lamdry of the Carmelites, the Benedictines, -and of the Innocents. - -“‘All bones, the little bones well sorted, arranged, co-ordinated, -classified, labeled, which made on the walls and in the cross passages, -roses, parallelopipides, triangles, rectangles, volutes, crevices, and -many other figures of marvelous regularity. - -“‘Let us wish, my friend, to reach that domain of the dead. It -will be life. For there there are always a number of people. It is much -frequented. But we are not there. What is one kilometer of dead men’s -bones in five hundred?’ - -“‘Clearly! How many kilometers do you think we have made, M. -Mifroid?’ - -“‘We have made nine.’ - -“‘What are nine kilometers in five hundred?’ - -“I induced M. Longuet not to make these useless calculations, and -he begged me to tell him the story of the ‘Jailer’ and that of the -‘Four Soldiers.’ - -“That made two histories which were not very long in telling. There -were only a few words in the first. There was once a jailer of the -catacombs who became lost in the catacombs. They found his corpse eight -days later. The second related to four soldiers of the Val-de-Graces, -who were descending, by the aid of a cord, into a well of eighty meters. -They were in the catacombs, and as they did not reappear some drummers -were sent down, who made the greatest noise that they could with their -drums, but in the catacombs sound does not carry, and no one responded -to the rolling. They hunted, and at the end of forty hours they found -them dying in a blind alley. - -“‘They had no moral courage,’ said Théophraste. - -“‘They were foolish,’ I added. ‘Whoever is foolish enough to -wander into the catacombs deserves no pity.’ - -“We were by this time come to a crossway, and M. Longuet turned to ask -which way we would follow. - -“I could answer him without delay. I said: - -“‘Here are two galleries; which are you going to take? One goes -almost directly back to our starting-point, the other directly away from -it.’ As our design was to go away from our starting-point, M. Longuet -showed me the first gallery. - -“‘I was sure of it!’ I exclaimed. ‘But you disregard the entire -principle. The experimental method has for centuries demonstrated that -at the bottom of the catacombs all individuals who wish to come back to -their point of setting out (to the entrance of the catacombs) go away -from it; then the whole logic of it is, to go away from one’s point of -starting out, one must take the way which apparently brings one back to -it.’ And so we decided on the gallery which seemed to us to bring us -back over our steps, so we were sure of not having made a useless trip. -That system was excellent, for it led us into a certain region of the -catacombs that no one had visited before, since the fourteenth century, -otherwise it would have been known.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII - -_A Dissertation on Fish_ - - -|M. LONGUET had from the first been complaining of his great hunger. -He was getting very weak, and the end of the thirty-sixth hour saw him -cursing their misfortune. However, what would have been the good of a -little food? They were buried alive, and food would have been like a -buoy to a shipwrecked sailor, alone in the middle of the ocean. It could -only serve to prolong the agony. - -M. Mifroid was more philosophical. He said that if there had been -anything to eat to give them strength to continue their way, he would -have been the first to suggest their stopping. But, with the exception -of some mushrooms, probably poisonous, that his watchful eye had seen, -there was nothing, so he urged M. Longuet to tramp on. M. Longuet, -however, was unreasonable; he said he was hungry, and yet did not seem -able to exert himself to get out of the catacombs. - -He asked M. Mifroid question after question as to the catacombs and what -he could eat to stay his terrible hunger. M. Mifroid tried to keep him -interested by telling him of a visit he had made to the laboratory in -the catacombs of M. M. Edwards. He told him of the fauna and the flora -in obscure and cavernous places, of which, if necessary, he could make a -meal. - -Although the conversation was in vain, as far as its effects on -Théophraste were concerned, M. Mifroid kept on. Hungry men are always -eager to talk of things to eat, and although he didn’t wish to -acknowledge his hunger, he spoke of these things, and in endeavoring to -put spirit into Théophraste allayed his own feelings. - -“My dear friend,” said he to Théophraste, “it may be that even if -we don’t get out of the catacombs we will not die of hunger. There is -a stream somewhere here, and I have heard that there are certain fishes -therein. They are not large fish, but there are incalculable quantities -of them. They are of different sizes, and are not unpleasant to -taste.” - -“Have you seen them?” asked Théophraste. - -“No; but my friend, M. Edwards, told me about them when I visited the -Fountain of the Fanaisetan.” - -“Is that far from here?” - -“I can’t tell you just now—all that I know is that this fountain -was constructed in 1810 by M. Hericourt de Thury, engineer of the -subterranean quarries. This fountain is inhabited by the cope-podes.” - -“Are they fish?” - -“Yes, they present some very singular modifications of tissues and -colorative. They have a beautiful red eye. That is why they are called -cyclops. That this fish has only one eye ought not to astonish you, for -the asellus aquaticus, which lives as well in the running water of the -catacombs, is a small isopode aquatic, which often has no eyes at all. -Many species have, instead of an eye, only a small red pig snout; others -have not a trace of one. They do not need to see clearly, since they -live in darkness. Nature is perfect, and never found wanting. It only -gives eyes to those who can use them, and does not give them to those to -whom they are unnecessary.” - -Théophraste was struck by M. Mifroid’s words. - -“Then,” said he, “if we continue to live in the catacombs we will -end by not having eyes!” - -“Evidently we will commence to lose the use of our sight and -eventually become blind.” - -Then Théophraste insisted upon M. Mifroid continuing his talk on -these fish that could be found in the catacombs, and which they would, -perhaps, have to eat. He was thus induced to give a sort of lecture on -the modifications of the organs, and their excessive development, or -their atrophy, following the ways frequented by individuals. - -He continued: “So the fish of which I speak have no eyes. Their sense -organs present modifications. For instance, the asellus aquaticus, even -of the normal species, is armed with small, flat organs, terminated by a -pore, that are considered olfactory organs. They are veritable olfactory -cudgels, and these very fish which do not see know the space around -them as well, possibly better, than if they could see in the light, so -perfectly developed are these olfactory and tactile organs. Yes, my dear -Théophraste, there are circumstances in the lives of some living -things where the nose takes the place of the eyes, and the nose can thus -acquire perfectly incredible dimensions. In the wells of Padirac there -was found an asellide which possessed olfactory cudgels of an amazing -length.” - -“Are there none in the running waters of the catacombs?” demanded -Théophraste. - -“No, none at all. Yet there are found many sorts of cavernical fish, -such, for example, as the niphugus puleamus, and this is found in great -abundance. Their ocular organs are atrophied.” - -This, however, did not interest Théophraste, who had got his own idea. - -“Do you know how they fish for them?” he asked. - -“I cannot say,” said Mif roid; “but we can surely get some sort of -bait from the surrounding vege-matter.” - -In a little while they both fell asleep, dreaming of this water which -was to bring them relief. However, though their dreams were pleasant -enough, there were surprises for them when they awoke. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII - -_The Meeting of the Talfa_ - - -|THEY had been sleeping on a soft soil or decayed vegetable matter, the -sight of which had drawn from M. Mifroid the remark that it was a good -omen for the near future. Their travels up to the present had been -without incident, except for some differences of opinion between them. -The subterranean galleries, lit up by the electric lamps, were sometimes -vast, sometimes straight, sometimes rounded out like the vault of a -cathedral, then square and regular, and so narrow that they had to crawl -on their knees to get through. They had by this time become silent, -except for a remark or two upon the variety of the strata they were -passing through. Here was rock, here clay, here sand, and so on. - -It could not, however, last much longer. For forty-eight hours they -had been walking, without coming across any water. M. Mifroid, however, -hoped on, and we will soon see how justified he was. He hoped at least -to come across some water or vegetation. - -They estimated it to be about four o’clock in the afternoon, when -Théophraste rose, and, tightening his belt, prepared to start on -another tramp. This time he did not speak of his hunger or thirst, but -walked on in that silence which weakness brings on men. They had been -walking about an hour when it was noticed that the temperature had -become much higher, and they both involuntarily took off their coats. -Soon the perspiration began to pour off their foreheads, and they began -to wonder how this change could have come about. Were they going toward -the center of the earth? How could it be accounted for? In two hours the -temperature had risen from 60 to 90 degrees Fahrenheit. M. Mifroid knew -of some galleries 79 meters below the ground, but who could estimate -what depth they were at now? - -Their electric lamps spread their brilliancy around them as they -advanced, now discussing the cause of this phenomenon. Suddenly the -walls of the galleries spread out, and they found themselves in a cave -of such large dimensions that even with their strong lights they could -not see the farther ends. What was their joy and amazement when they -found before them a beautiful lake, the banks of which were covered with -a thick carpet of moss, and in the crystal transparency of which they -saw fish with beautifully colored scales. The fish had no eyes, and did -not appear timid. They disported themselves in the water, coming quite -close to where the two astonished men stood. They could easily catch -them by leaning over. A flock of ducks were swimming about in the -enchanted water. - -M. Théophraste wept with joy on seeing this wonderful sight, and cried -out softly, for he was afraid of disturbing them: “My friend, what did -I say? Isn’t this better than all earthly scenes?” - -M. Mifroid felt somewhat humiliated at not knowing this before, but -soon regained his influence over Théophraste, who was beginning to get -excited over this wonderful sight. He made him sit down on the bank, so -as not to frighten the ducks, and began explaining to him that what they -saw was quite natural. He explained that it was caused by the soil, and -that the water had collected here by the action of the heat. - -Théophraste was for throwing himself into the water at once, and would -have done so if they had not suddenly seen a sight which riveted them -to the very ground. Neither of them spoke. Their tongues were paralyzed. -Their electric light revealed, far ahead of them, but not far enough -for them to lose a single detail, the figure of a woman. She was quite -naked, and had her back toward them. Never before had they seen a form -so elegant and so graceful. - -This first view, however, lasted only an instant, for she threw herself -into the water and swam away with the grace and ease of a swan. - -The apparition had the effect of making them forget the ducks, and they -both forgot the hunger which gnawed at their vitals. They had hoped that -she would not vanish, and that their presence would remain unnoticed. - -After several plunges, the nymph, shaking the pearly drops from her -beautiful body into the sleeping waters, emerged not far away from where -they stood, but always with her back turned. - -What quarry of Carrara ever gave to the world more precious or purer -a marble? By what miracle of the divine fires can we contemplate those -lines of definitive beauty? It was the form of a Greek statue, and her -arms were as graceful as one could wish to imagine on the Venus de Milo. - -They waited in silence for her to turn around, while she disported -herself on the green moss. Soon their curiosity was satisfied, and she -suddenly turned. Neither of them could restrain a cry of horror, which -made the Venus plunge back into the water. She had no eyes, and there -was nothing in their place. Her ears, which were hidden from their sight -by the profusion of hair, stood out like horns. But that which terrified -them most was her enormous, snout-like red nose. - -They had hardly recovered from their first surprise when another young -female, clothed in a light tunic, came unexpectedly on the bank, holding -in her arms a long gown. She also had a nose like the other, and no -eyes. - -The Venus came toward her companion on the bank, and the latter said: -“They are silent now, and not saying a word.” - -“Ha, Saint Mary, they shall have no pardon! They are traitors. Do you -know what our people are doing? Go and find out; I want to know.” She -spoke in the purest French of the fourteenth century, and the delicacy -and sweetness of her voice was like the rippling water of a brook. The -two men watched and listened in amazement. They stood still and stared -before them. They felt that a great miracle was being wrought. - -Suddenly they were surrounded by thirty or more men, who seemed to have -come from out of the very rocks. They stood around them, gesticulating -and talking vehemently, but in very low voices. They too had no eyes, -but their ears were developed to a surprising size. On each of their -hands they had ten fingers, and they had ten toes to each foot. As they -came into the glare of the electric light, they held their hands up to -their red snouts, as if they had smelled a disagreeable odor. They all -mumbled in half-audible tones: “Lady Jane de Montfort, Demoiselle de -Coucy,” and it was easy to see that they referred to the ladies who -had been disturbed. As they passed they felt the faces of the two -men. They just touched them lightly, and in doing so moved away in an -apologetic way. It seemed as if they were curiosities. They felt their -eyes, their noses, and their ears, and some of them even put their -fingers down their ears. It was evident they could not understand the -smallness of their features. - -Then one of them addressed M. Mifroid, and while apologizing for their -curiosity, said he was astonished at their want of beauty. - -By this time Lady Jane de Montfort and Demoiselle de Coucy were dressed, -and M. Mifroid and M. Théophraste were presented to them. - -The two men begged a thousand pardons for their intrusion, and were -about to explain their intrusion, when Demoiselle de Coucy took -Théophraste by the arm, and Lady Jane took M. Mifroid, and they were -conducted through the vaults surrounded by the crowd of men. It was -difficult for them to prevent the men from poking their eyes out as they -fumbled over their faces. - -They had been forty-eight hours without food, and their hunger was -extreme, and now they were to be taken away from where there was food. - -The two women had taken possession of their lamps under the pretext of -being troubled by the odor. - -They tried to tell the people that they were exhausted, but so many -questions were put to them that no opportunity presented itself. - -They had by this time reached a large chamber. There was a dull light, -and they felt the presence of thousands of people. M. Mifroid managed to -get one of the lamps, and quickly pressing the button, lit up the vast -hall, in which were crowded thousands of these weird men, all with -the large noses and ears, but with no eyes. Some of them walked on all -fours, and some had such long noses that they looked like pelicans. - -Finally they were informed that they were at the entrance to the meeting -hall. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV - -_M. Mifroid Performs on the Stage_ - - -|ONE would never have expected to drop from one of the numberless ways -in the catacombs into a city of twenty thousand inhabitants. However, -upon reflection, one would wonder why men, taken out of their natural -environment, would not be susceptible to the same natural changes as the -animals. - -Arajo relates to us how he saw flocks of blind ducks come out of the -caverns of the subterranean lake of Zirhnitz. One is bound to believe -that these ducks were the products of ducks which once saw clearly, but -which were shut up by some accident in the bowels of the earth, in the -midst of obscure waters. And so there is some logic in the theory that -if the family of a man in the first years of the fourteenth century was -by accident confined in the catacombs, it would live there and produce -offspring. At the end of the third generation they would have forgotten -the existence of the open world. Of course they would continue to speak -the language, and as no strange element would mix with it, it would -preserve its purity through centuries. - -Then in the darkness they would lose the use of their eyes, but develop -their sense of touch as blind men do. Hence the excess of digits on -their hands and feet. Then the loss of one sense always develops all the -other senses in proportion. After centuries these super-developed senses -become abnormal, and the nose and ears develop accordingly in size. - -And so it was with these people of the Talfa. Their features had -developed to an extraordinary extent, and their idea of beauty in the -human form was based on the excessive development of these features. -Demoiselle de Coucy was considered the most beautiful of all the Talfa. - -They had entered the large meeting room, and M. Mifroid attempted to -again light his lamp, but the crowd cried out in such disgust that he -was persuaded to keep it out. He endeavored to converse with those near -by. Their names were among the most illustrious in France at the time -of the Battle of Crecy. But they addressed themselves in a tone so -ineffably sweet, and all the uproar they tried to make resulted in -an enchanting murmur. It was difficult to imagine that such sweet and -honeyed words could emanate from such ugly beings. - -M. Mifroid was seated on a chair next to Lady Jane de Montfort, who -continually felt his face and touched his ears. While her curiosity -was great she approached him with such delicate gracefulness that he -hadn’t the heart to restrain her. - -Soon there was a great silence, and a concert began. To Mifroid and -Théophraste nothing was to be heard. Occasionally the people applauded -quietly, but the absolute silence of the performers was a striking -feature. Not a word was heard. - -Soon there was much talking again around the two men, and they learned -that it was intended that they should go down on the stage. This was the -reason why they had been dragged to the meeting hall. They were to be -exhibited as a phenomenon. Théophraste willingly consented, as his -companion had promised him a good duck for dinner. M. Mifroid was not -so easily persuaded, but at last acquiesced, and they descended to the -stage. They all clamored for a song, and M. Mifroid started one of the -old French songs of the fourteenth century, which he had learned as a -boy. He had hardly started the first verse, when everybody in the hall -called out for him to sing lower. - -He started again, this time moderating his voice, but again they called -to him to sing lower. The third time he could hardly hear himself, so -low was his voice, but this did not satisfy his audience, and he left -the platform with his song unfinished. He afterward learned that the -sense of hearing of these people was so developed that they could -understand silent music. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI - -_A New Trade_ - - -|AFTER the concert the party went out of the hall, and passed on to a -striking mansion in which a sumptuous repast was served. M. Mifroid -had by this time become quite intimate with the Lady de Montfort. He -confessed that he was unable to withstand the allurements of the lady. -It must not be forgotten that the darkness was most conducive to the -failure of all his honorable intentions. However, we will not dilate -upon what happened, but Mme. de Montfort weakened him with her caresses -and M. Mifroid at last succumbed to the temptation. After a while she -slept, and he opened the door and went out. - -Although they had been among the Talfa several hours, neither M. Mifroid -nor Théophraste had had the inclination to see what kind of habitation -they were in. Weakness and the great crowd of Talfa had prevented them. - -M. Théophraste had conducted himself in such a manner during the meal, -eating everything to excess, that he had had to be carried out. It was -done according to the directions of Mme. de Coucy, who, it is feared, -would not at that time have carried on her love intrigues. - -Now M. Mifroid found himself alone, and he decided to investigate. As he -went out of the room, he realized that he was in a subterranean city. - -That which struck him most was the total absence of doors. All the shops -were open to the passers-by, and the most precious articles as well as -the poorest were exposed for any one to take who wished. - -He was very much amused by the profusion of the columns, by the -incredible carving in the friezes, by the reliefs and sculptured caps -to the pillars. They were so extravagantly flowered, with the lines so -intricate, that only a master hand could have worked them. A curious -point about all this work was that it only reached as high as a man -could touch. Above that point the design mixed in with the vaulting of -the catacombs and was left to the imagination. But whatever was seen of -this beautiful carving could only be compared with the marvels worked by -the early sculptors of India or the ivory-carvers of Burma. - -In the search M. Mifroid did not come upon any large building. He had -frequently heard Mademoiselle say: “Ah, St. Mary!” And so he tried -to find some temple in order to find out what their religion was. His -search, however, was in vain. The only building of any size was -the concert hall where they had been earlier. It was certainly more -wonderful than all the rest, but except for this one example all the -architectural marvels were applied to the private buildings. The meanest -aperture, the poorest door, were little gems of art. There were no -statues in the squares. - -M. Mifroid was just starting back to his lady’s house, when he met -a party of young Talfa, armed with cross-bows. “Ah!” thought he, -“here are the guards.” He was, however, quickly undeceived, for they -had smelled the odor from his lamp, and they came up to him. They told -him they were going for a hunt. The hunting season started every year -on the rising of the waters of the great lake. At this time there were -always a lot of rats, which were killed in thousands and used for many -different things in the Talfa households. - -Thanks to the directions they had given him, he soon found his way back -to Lady de Montfort’s house. There he found her waiting at the window, -and as soon as he got near her, she waved her handkerchief. - -They were soon in conversation again, and he found out that she was not -married. - -She asked him what he did on the top of the earth, and he told her he -was a commissioner of police. She listened intently, and asked what -Théophraste did. - -“He is a robber,” said M. Mifroid. - -Evidently neither a commissioner of police nor a robber was known among -the Talfa, and soon the news spread that the two strangers had unknown -trades, and a great crowd gathered, who begged them to show them what -they did on earth. - -M. Mifroid sent to fetch Théophraste. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI - -_A Robber is Caught_ - - -|WHEN Théophraste was brought up to M. Mifroid, he was in a pitiful -condition. He had given himself up to the worst debauchery, and was -still under the influence of his excesses. - -However, M. Mifroid explained to him what was required of him. He had to -demonstrate to the Talfa people the duties of a police commissioner, and -Théophraste was to act the robber and be arrested. However, owing to -Théophraste’s condition, M. Mifroid had his misgivings as to the -result of this practical demonstration. - -The crowd by this time had assumed enormous proportions, and by special -permission an electric lamp was lit. All present held their noses as if -the lamp smelled. - -Then M. Mifroid instructed Théophraste. He told him to run into a store -and take some things, and run out. This was an easy matter, as none of -the stores had doors, and Théophraste commenced to act the robber. -He ran into a hatter’s and seized all sorts of rat-skin caps. He -instinctively put them under his coat, and hid them about his person, -looking furtively around him in a most natural way. - -All this time the people around the store looked on noiselessly. No one -said anything and not the least sign of surprise was shown. One man at -length said: “Look at that fellow providing himself with hats for -a year. It was then that M. Mifroid came upon the scene, and seizing -Théophraste by the arm, said in his most official tone: “In the name -of the law, I arrest you!” - -This did not produce the desired effect, as the people still preserved -their dumbness, and did not appear at all impressed. - -Mlle. de Coucy asked M. Mifroid what he meant by “In the name of the -law.” But as the Talfa people had no law, he found it difficult to -explain. - -He told her how the police was an institution to protect the person and -property of peaceable citizens. They were the guardians of the law. He, -however, could not make them understand, as they thought Théophraste -had a right to the hats. - -Lady de Montfort explained that they had no need of laws to protect the -state, as they had no state, nor the property, as they had no property, -and as individuals never conflicted no law was necessary to protect -persons. All the Talfa people did was to hunt for their food and make -clothing from the skins of rats. Marriage to them was a prehistoric -institution which appeared unworthy of the human state. They only half -believed its existence as a sacred legend. Their unions were of a very -liberal nature, and did not require any ceremony or oath. Consequently -they lived together peacefully and happily. - -A curious feature of these Talfa people was the entire absence of any -code of morals. There was no difference made between a virtuous woman -and one of loose habits. Everybody lived on the same footing and enjoyed -the same privileges. Things happened according to taste and temperament, -and nobody thought anything about it. Thus conflicts of passion were -reduced to a minimum. No one had rights, as no one possessed anything. - -Thus lived the Talfa people. No laws, no trouble, and no police -commissioners. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVII - -_The Escape from the Catacombs_ - - -|M. THEOPHRASTE LONGUET had by this time quite forgotten the ties -which bound him to the world above, and while M. Mifroid was abandoning -himself to the fancies of Lady de Montfort, he was indulging in excesses -of debauchery with the Talfa people. - -The time came when M. Mifroid became tired of this kind of life. They -had been in the catacombs three weeks and had become acquainted with the -habits of all the Talfa people. M. Mifroid longed to get into the open -world, where people had public affairs and a properly organized society. -He felt confused, and a feeling of weariness came over him. - -Théophraste was for stopping there altogether. He said he had never had -such a time before. He had been playing the tricks of Cartouche on -the Talfa people, and he felt more free in spirits than he had felt on -earth. He was so persistent In his determination to stay that M. Mifroid -decided to appeal to Mlle de Coucy. He felt that Théophraste was a -nuisance to the Talfa, and the best way to get him out was to appeal to -the people themselves. Théophraste had even suggested putting out his -own eyes to be like these people. - -Upon telling Mlle, de Coucy, however, he got a totally different answer -than he expected. She told him that the Talfa people had decided to let -them go as soon as twenty thousand people had passed their fingers over -their faces. She explained that the Talfa had forever been trying to get -into the upper world, and therefore they must all visit these men from -the coveted realms and see what they looked like before their departure. - -M. Mifroid calculated that it would take some time to complete this -ceremony, and so he devised a plan by which they could deceive the -people and escape. They were never long alone, and all day and all night -fingers were feeling their faces and were thrust into their eyes, nose -or mouth. It was during these operations one night that M. Mifroid -devised his plan of escape. He would utilize his powers as a sculptor. - -Obtaining some clay from the bed of the lake he modeled two masks like -those of the Talfa people with large noses and ears. Then under the -pretense of acquiescing in Théophraste’s wishes, who dreamed only of -becoming a Talfa, he put one of the masks on his face, and the other he -wore himself. The deception was perfect, and although they met several -Talfa they were not recognized, in spite of much finger feeling. - -M. Mifroid took the precaution of providing himself with food, and -they both started out. Théophraste laughed with delight at the bold -deception, and in his merriment he did not realize that M. Mifroid had -led him out of the domains of the Talfa. They walked for five days. -Their eyes had by this time become accustomed to the darkness, and they -were able to make good headway. On the fifth day they came across some -human bones, and M. Mifroid uttered a prayer of thankfulness, for here -were signs of a civilized people. They were on the outskirts of the city -of Ossarium. - -Théophraste had been in a very depressed state of mind since leaving -the Talfa. He had continually reproached M. Mifroid for getting him -away. Upon coming upon the first signs of human existence, M. Mifroid -drew his attention to them and declared that in a short time they would -be out in the light of day again. - -Soon they came across a skull with the signs of a candle near it, -showing Catholic burial, then the gallery seemed to dip down, the ground -became wet, and they found themselves wading through mire. Water dripped -on them from crevices above, and the air became cold and damp. At last -M. Mifroid recognized a part of the gallery, and again he sent a prayer -up to heaven for his deliverance. - -There was a Latin inscription cut out of the rock: “Ossa arida audite -verbum Domini,” which M. Mifroid recognized as being near an entrance -to the catacombs. - -They had not proceeded far when voices were heard, and they found -themselves in a large vault. This was a very different place than -the hall of the Talfa, though. There were ordinary human beings here. -Through the whole length of the hall chairs were arranged. The place was -lit up by numerous candles enclosed in human skulls. At the end was a -kind of rotunda where evidently the musicians sat, for a large circle -of music-stands were arranged. A number of people were present getting -ready for a feast. No one took any notice of the two strangers, as it -was thought that they were invited guests, and they strolled through, -watching the proceedings. Soon the musicians began to arrive one by one, -and the people sat around making pleasantries, and passing the time away -in talk. It was half-past one. - -It was indeed a curious sight. Here down among the dead, with coffins -and bones all around, had assembled a crowd to listen to music, and -to make revelry. Fifty musicians had assembled, among whom M. Mifroid -recognized many of the orchestra of the Opera House. - -Soon the music started, Chopin’s “Dead March” being the first -piece. After listening for some time M. Mifroid tapped Théophraste on -the shoulder, whispering to him that it was time to go. They hurried -along, and ten minutes later they found themselves on the earth again. - -They walked together for about half an hour, neither uttering a word. -They were both thinking what a wonderful experience they had gone -through. The Talfa nation, with its peculiar habits, had impressed them -wonderfully, and neither wished to disturb the other in contemplation of -it all. - -Suddenly Théophraste said: “What are you waiting for, M. Mifroid? Do -you intend to arrest me?” - -M. Mifroid had, in the emotion of the moment, forgotten his original -mission. He, however, had become very friendly with Théophraste in the -catacombs, in spite of his excesses, and so, now that he was confronted -with the necessity of arresting him, he said: “No, my friend, I shall -not arrest you. My mission was to arrest Cartouche, but as Cartouche -is no more, I cannot arrest him. Besides, you, M. Longuet, are my -friend.” - -They then parted at the Buci Crossway. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVII - -An Old Friend - - -|AFTER the footsteps of M. Mifroid had died away, M. Longuet remained -standing at the street corner. A feeling of intense sadness and -loneliness had come over him. He could not decide on whether to go back -to his wife or to leave her altogether. But what would he do? If he left -her he would have no home, and he would be an outcast from the world. -He wandered for a long time through the streets, until he found himself -opposite a door in the Rue Suger. He rang the bell and a man in a blouse -and paper cap opened the door in response. - -“Good-evening, Ambrose,” said Théophraste. “Are you up at this -hour? I would not have disturbed you, but many things have happened -since I last saw you.” - -He had not seen him since the evening he came to ask his opinion on the -watermark on the old paper. - -“Come in,” said Ambrose cordially. “Make yourself at home. How are -all the folks at home?” “I will tell you all to-morrow. What I want -now is some sound sleep. I am tired out.” - -Ambrose showed him his own bed, and soon Théophraste was stretched out -and asleep. - -The following day Ambrose tried to get some news from Théophraste, who, -however, observed an absolute silence, and would not be persuaded to -say a word. He was like a dumb man. He passed his time for two days in -examining words and papers, which filled his pockets, and in writing, -but always without saying a word. - -One morning as he was preparing to go out, Ambrose asked him: “Where -are you going?” - -“I am going to see M. Mifroid about the details of a trip we took -together, and of which you will learn when I am dead.” - -“You are going to kill yourself?” - -“Oh, no. There is no use in doing that. I shall die soon enough. But I -shall come to your house to die, my dear Ambrose. After going to see M. -Mifroid, I shall go to see my wife.” - -“I did not dare to ask about her. Your sadness and silence made me -fear some domestic trouble. It is all so inexplicable.” - -“She still loves me,” said Théophraste. - -Before letting him go, Ambrose made him change his underclothes, and -lent him a clean shirt, as he said he could not see his wife decently in -the rags he was in at present. - -“I will put it on,” said Théophraste, “for my own sake, as my -wife won’t see it. I’m not going near her. I shall only see her from -a distance. I only want to learn if she is happy.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIX - -_The Final Tragedy_ - - -|IT was nine o’clock in the evening, the season was well advanced, -and a heavy mist hung over the land. M. Longuet went up the long -drive toward the “Villa Flots de Azure.” His hand trembled as he -cautiously pushed open the little garden gate. He crossed the garden -step by step, to look around. His whole demeanor was one of evil intent. -There was a light in the parlor, and the window was half open. With -short steps Théophraste advanced, and stretching his head he peered in. - -He fell back groaning. Placing his hands over his face, he tore the -white locks on his forehead. The sight had frenzied him, and he felt a -pang of agonizing jealousy go through his frame. - -Marceline and Adolphe were there, locked in affectionate embrace! This -is what he had come to see! His wife no doubt was happy, but in quite a -different way from what he expected. - -He sat down on the ground and wept with rage. Rising, his curiosity -forced him to get nearer and listen. - -What he heard only made him worse, and he inwardly felt that he was -about to commit a great crime. However, he battled against this feeling, -and ran away from the house. Something compelled him to return! - -In a state of sanguinary expectation, comparable to nothing in the -history of crimes, he again retraced his steps, found himself in the -garden again, and without waiting to look in he bounded into the parlor. - -M. Lecamus and Marceline were taken aback, and both uttered a cry of -surprise. Their surprise was soon turned to terror, as Théophraste, -seizing some stout cord, ran to Adolphe, and with superhuman strength -and agility bound him hand and foot. Dragging him to the hall, he tied -him to a newel post and left him. It was all done with such lightning -speed that Adolphe hadn’t the time to resist the first attack, and he -was as a child in the ferocious grip of Théophraste. - -Turning around he ran to the sitting-room, and seized an old sword that -was hanging on the wall. Marceline in her terror called to Lecamus to -mind his ears. She feared that he would undergo the same treatment -as Signor Petito. However, nothing was further from Théophraste’s -thoughts, for turning on Marceline he struck her down with one blow. Two -seconds later he was holding her head up to Adolphe, saying: “Haste -thee now to kiss these lips while they are still warm.” - -Adolphe could do nothing, so he touched the lips of the dead woman, and -then fell in a faint. - -Théophraste ran upstairs, and brought down from the garret an old -trunk, and in less than twenty-five minutes he had the body of Marceline -cut up and placed in it. He closed the trunk with a key, and putting -it over his shoulder he said good-by to Lecamus. However, he might -have said good-by to the door-post, for Lecamus was in a dead faint and -choking from the cords around his neck. - -Théophraste and the trunk disappeared in the darkness. - -That same night one could have seen a man on a barge in the Seine -discharging the contents of a trunk into the river. They could also have -heard him murmur: “My poor Marceline, my poor Marceline! It was not -your fault.” - -At dawn Théophraste knocked at Ambrose’s door. Ambrose saw that -he was greatly agitated, and asked him in sympathetic tones what had -happened. - -Théophraste could not reply. His tongue seemed riveted to his mouth. He -crawled to the bed, and, lying down, wept. - -At last Ambrose was able to console him sufficiently to get these few -words from him: “I felt the flame of murder pass through my veins. -The impulse to kill had returned to me after centuries. The same impulse -that had made me decapitate my faithless wife, Marie Antoinette Neron, -two hundred years previously, and to throw her body into the river. I -forgive M. Lecamus. When I am dead go and look for him and tell him that -I name him my testamentary executor. I leave him all my worldly goods. -He will know what to do with the little oaken chest, in which is locked -the terrible secrets of the last months of my sad life.” Having -said these words, Théophraste raised himself on the pillow, for the -oppression increased, and he knew that the end was near. His look was -no longer of this world. His gaze was fixed on some imaginary object far -away, and in a doleful voice he said: “I have seen—I see—I turn -again toward the square ray of light.” - -And he expired! - - -THE END - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Double Life, by Gaston Leroux - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DOUBLE LIFE *** - -***** This file should be named 53989-0.txt or 53989-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/9/8/53989/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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