THE MANWITHTHE BROKEN EAR

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF_EDMOND ABOUT_

BYHENRY HOLT

NEW YORKHOLT & WILLIAMS1872

Entered, according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1867, byHENRY HOLT, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of theUnited States, for the Southern District of New York. 

DEDICATION OF THE FIRST EDITION. [A]

 DEAR LEYPOLDT:

 You have not forgotten that nearly two years ago, before our business connection was thought of, this identical translation was 'respectfully declined' by you with that same courtesy, the exercise of which in frequent similar cases, each one of us now tries so hard to shove on the other's shoulders. I hope that your surprise on reading this note of dedication will not interfere with your forgiving the pertinacity with which, through it, I still strive to make the book _yours_. 

 H. H. 

 451 BROOME STREET, May 16, 1867. 

[Footnote A: Published by Leypoldt & Holt. ]

The Translator has placed a few explanatory Notes at the end of thevolume. They are referred to by numbers in the text. 

THE MAN

WITH THE BROKEN EAR. 

CHAPTER I. 

WHEREIN THEY KILL THE FATTED CALF TO CELEBRATE THE RETURN OF A FRUGALSON. 

On the 18th of May, 1859, M. Renault, formerly professor of physics andchemistry, now a landed proprietor at Fontainebleau, and member of theMunicipal Council of that charming little city, himself carried to thepost-office the following letter:--

 "_To Monsieur Leon Renault, Civil Engineer, Berlin, Prussia. _

 (To be kept at the Post-Office till called for. )

 "MY DEAR CHILD:

 "The good news you sent us from St. Petersburg caused us the greatest joy. Your poor mother had been ailing since winter, but I had not spoken to you about it from fear of making you uneasy while so far from home. As for myself, I had not been very well; and there was yet a third person (guess the name if you can!) who was languishing from not seeing you. But content yourself, my dear Leon: we have been recuperating more and more since the time of your return is almost fixed. We begin to believe that the mines of the Ural will not swallow up that which is dearer to us than all the world. Thank God! that fortune which you have so honorably and so quickly made will not have cost your life, nor even your health, since you tell us you have been growing fat off there in the desert. If you have not finished up all your business out there, so much the worse for you: there are three of us who have sworn that you shall never go back again. You will not find it hard to accede, for you will be happy among us. Such, at least, is the opinion of Clementine. . . . I forget that I was pledged not to name her. Master Bonnivet, our excellent neighbor, has not rested content with investing your funds in a good mortgage, but has also drawn up, in his leisure moments, a most edifying little indenture, which now lacks nothing but your signature. Our worthy mayor has ordered, on your account, a new official scarf, which is on the way from Paris. You will have the first benefit of it. Your apartment (which will soon belong to a plural 'you') is elegant, in proportion to your present fortune. You are to occupy. . . . ; but the house has changed so in three years, that my description would be incomprehensible to you. M. Audret, the architect of the imperial chateau, directed the work. He actually wanted to construct me a laboratory worthy of Thénard or Duprez. I earnestly protested against it, and said that I was not yet worthy of one, as my celebrated work on the Condensation of Gases had only reached the fourth chapter. But as your mother was in collusion with the old scamp of a friend, it has turned out that science has henceforth a temple in our house--a regular sorcerer's den, according to the picturesque expression of your old Gothon: it lacks nothing, not even a four-horse-power steam engine. Alas! what can I do with it? I am confident, nevertheless, that the expenditure will not be altogether lost to the world. You are not going to sleep upon your laurels. Oh, if I had only had your fortune when I had your youth! I would have dedicated my days to pure science, instead of losing the best part of them among those poor young men who got nothing from my lectures but an opportunity to read Paul de Kock. I would have been ambitious!--I would have striven to connect my name with the discovery of some great general law, or at least with the invention of some very useful apparatus. It is too late now; my eyes are worn out, and the brain itself refuses to work. Take your turn, my boy! You are not yet twenty-six, the Ural mines have given you the wherewithal to live at ease, and, for yourself alone, you have no further wants to satisfy; the time has come to work for humanity. That you will do so, is the strongest wish and dearest hope of your doting old father, who loves you and who waits for you with open arms. 

 "J. RENAULT. 

 "P. S. According to my calculations, this letter ought to reach Berlin two or three days before you. You have been already informed by the papers of the 7th inst. Of the death of the illustrious Humboldt. It is a cause of mourning to science and to humanity. I have had the honor of writing to that great man several times in my life, and he once deigned to reply, in a letter which I piously cherish. If you happen to have an opportunity to buy some personal souvenir of him, a bit of his handwriting or some fragment of his collections, you will bring me a real pleasure. "

A month after the departure of this letter, the son so eagerly lookedfor returned to the paternal mansion. M. And Mme. Renault, who went tomeet him at the depot, found him taller, stouter, and better-looking inevery way. In fact, he was no longer merely a remarkable boy, but a manof good and pleasing proportions. Leon Renault was of medium height, light hair and complexion, plump and well made. His large blue eyes, sweet voice, and silken beard indicated a nature sensitive rather thanpowerful. A very white, round, and almost feminine neck contrastedsingularly with a face bronzed by exposure. His teeth were beautiful, very delicate, a little inclined backward, and very evenly shaped. Whenhe pulled off his gloves, he displayed two small and rather pudgeyhands, quite firm and yet pleasantly soft, neither hot nor cold, nor drynor damp, but agreeable to the touch and cared-for to perfection. 

As he was, his father and mother would not have exchanged him for theApollo Belvedere. They embraced him rapturously, overwhelming him with athousand questions, most of which he, of course, failed to answer. Someold friends of the family, a doctor, an architect, and a notary, had runto the depot with the good old people; each one of them in turn gave hima hug, and asked him if he was well, and if he had had a pleasantjourney. He listened patiently and even joyfully to this common-placemusic whose words did not signify much, but whose melody went to theheart because it came from the heart. 

They had been there a good quarter of an hour, the train had gonepuffing on its way, the omnibuses of the various hotels had started oneafter another at a good trot up the street leading to the city, and theJune sun seemed to enjoy lighting up this happy group of excellentpeople. But Madame Renault cried out all at once that the poor childmust be dying of hunger, and that it was barbarous to keep him waitingfor his dinner any longer. There was no use in his protesting that hehad breakfasted at Paris, and that the voice of hunger appealed to himless strongly than that of joy. They all got into two carriages, the sonbeside his mother, the father opposite, as if he could not keep hiseyes off his boy. A wagon came behind with the trunks, long boxes, chests, and the rest of the traveller's baggage. At the entrance of thetown, the hackmen cracked their whips, the baggage-men followed theexample, and this cheerful clatter drew the people to their doors andwoke up for an instant the quietude of the streets. Madame Renault threwher glances right and left, searching out the spectators of her triumph, and saluting with most cordial affability people she hardly knew at all. And more than one mother saluted her, too, without knowing her; forthere is no mother indifferent to such kinds of happiness, and, moreover, Leon's family was liked by everybody. And the neighbors, meeting each other, said with a satisfaction free from jealousy:

"That is Renault's son, who has been at work three years in the Russianmines, and now has come to share his fortune with his old parents. "

Leon also noticed several familiar faces, but not all that he wished tosee. For he bent over an instant to his mother's ear, saying: "AndClementine?" This word was pronounced so low and so close that M. Renault himself could not tell whether it was a word or a kiss. The goodlady smiled tenderly, and answered but a single word: "Patience!" As ifpatience were a virtue very common among lovers!

The door of the house was wide open, and old Gothon was standing on thethreshold. She raised her arms toward heaven and cried like a booby, for she had known Leon since he was not much higher than her wash-tub. There was now another formidable hugging on the upper step, between thegood old servant and her young master. After a reasonable interval, thefriends of M. Renault prepared to leave, but it was wasted pains; forthey were assured that their places at table had already been prepared. And when all save the invisible Clementine were reassembled in theparlor, the great round-backed chairs held out their arms to the scionof the house of Renault; the old mirror on the mantle delighted toreflect his image; the great chandelier chimed a little song of welcomewith its crystal pendants, and the mandarins on the etagére shook theirheads in sign of welcome, as if they were orthodox _penates_ instead ofstrangers and pagans. No one can tell why kisses and tears began to raindown again, but it certainly did seem as if he had once more justreturned. 

"Soup!" cried Gothon. 

Madame Renault took the arm of her son, contrary to all the laws ofetiquette, and without even apologizing to the honored guests present. She scarcely excused herself, even, for helping the son before thecompany. Leon let her have her own way, and took it all smilingly: therewas not a guest there who was not ready to upset his soup over hiswaistcoat rather than taste it before Leon. 

"Mother!" cried Leon, spoon in hand, "this is the first time for threeyears that I've tasted good soup. " Madame Renault felt herself blushwith satisfaction, and Gothon was so overcome that she dropped a plate. Both fancied that possibly he had spoken to please their self-conceit;but nevertheless he spoke truly. There are two things in this worldwhich a man does not often find away from home: the first is good soup;the second is disinterested love. 

If I should attempt here an accurate enumeration of all the dishes thatappeared on the table, there would not be one of my readers whose mouthwould not water. I believe, indeed, that more than one delicate ladywould be in danger of an attack of indigestion. Suppose, if you please, that such a list would reach nearly to the end of the volume, leaving mebut a single page on which to write the marvellous history of Fougas. Therefore I forthwith return to the parlor, where coffee is alreadyserved. 

Leon took scarcely half of his cup: but do not let that lead you toinfer that the coffee was too hot, or too cold, or too sweet. Nothing inthe world would have prevented his drinking it to the last drop, if aknock at the street-door had not stopped it just opposite his heart. 

The minute which followed appeared to him interminable. Never in histravels had he encountered such a long minute. But at length Clementineappeared, preceded by the worthy Mlle. Virginie Sambucco, her aunt; andthe mandarins who smiled on the etagére heard the sound of threekisses. Wherefore three? The superficial reader, who pretends toforesee things before they are written, has already found a veryprobable explanation. "Of course, " says he, "Leon was too respectful toembrace the dignified Mlle. Sambucco more than once, but when he came toClementine, who was soon to become his wife, he very properly doubledthe dose. " Now sir, that is what I call a premature judgment! The firstkiss fell from the mouth of Leon upon the cheek of Mlle. Sambucco; thesecond was applied by the lips of Mlle. Sambucco to the right cheek ofLeon; the third was, in fact, an accident that plunged two young heartsinto profound consternation. 

Leon, who was very much in love with his betrothed, rushed to herblindly, uncertain whether he would kiss her right cheek or her left, but determined not to put off too long a pleasure which he had beenpromising himself ever since the spring of 1856. Clementine did notdream of defending herself, but was fully prepared to apply her prettyrosy lips to Leon's right cheek or his left, indifferently. Theprecipitation of the two young people brought it about that neitherClementine's cheeks nor Leon's received the offering intended for them. And the mandarins on the etagére, who fully expected to hear two kisses, heard but one. And Leon was confounded, and Clementine blushed up to herears, and the two lovers retreated a step, intently regarding the rosesof the carpet which will remain eternally graven upon their memories. 

In the eyes of Leon Renault, Clementine was the most beautiful creaturein the world. He had loved her for little more than three years, and itwas somewhat on her account that he had taken the journey to Russia. In1856 she was too young to marry, and too rich for an engineer with asalary of 2, 400 francs to properly make pretentions to her hand. Leon, who was a good mathematician, proposed to himself the following problem:"Given--one young girl, fifteen and a half years old, with an income of8, 000 francs, and threatened with the inheritance from Mlle. Sambuccoof, say 200, 000 more:--to obtain a fortune at least equal to hers withinsuch a period as will give her time enough to grow up, without leavingher time enough to become an old maid. " He had found the solution in theUral mines. 

During three long years, he had indirectly corresponded with the belovedof his heart. All the letters which he wrote to his father or mother, passed into the hands of Mlle. Sambucco, who did not keep them fromClementine. Sometimes, indeed, they were read aloud in the family, andM. Renault was never obliged to omit a phrase, for Leon never wroteanything which a young girl should not hear. The aunt and the niece hadno other distractions; they lived retired in a little house at the endof a pretty garden, and received no one but old friends. Clementine, therefore, deserved but little credit for keeping her heart for Leon. With the exception of a big colonel of cuirassiers, who sometimesfollowed her in her walks, no man had ever made any demonstrationstoward her. 

She was very pretty withal, and not so merely to the eyes of her lover, or of the Renault family, or of the little city where she lived. Provincial towns are apt to be easily satisfied. They give thereputation of being a pretty woman or a great man, cheaply; especiallywhen they are not rich enough in such commodities to show themselvesover particular. In capitals, however, people claim to admire nothingbut absolute merit. I have heard the mayor of a village say, with acertain pride: "Admit now, that my servant Catherine is right pretty, for a village of six hundred people!" Clementine was pretty enough to beadmired in a city of eight hundred thousand. Fancy to yourself a littleblonde creole, with black eyes, creamy complexion and dazzling teeth. Her figure was round and supple as a twig, and was finished off withdainty hands and pretty Andalusian feet, arched and beautifully rounded. All her glances were smiles, and all her movements caresses. Add tothis, that she was neither a fool nor a prude, nor even an ignoramuslike girls brought up in convents. Her education, which was begun by hermother, had been completed by two or three respectable old professorsselected by M. Renault, who was her guardian. She had a sound heart, anda quick mind. But I may reasonably ask myself why I have so much to sayabout her, for she is still living; and, thank God! not one of herperfections has departed. 

CHAPTER II. 

UNPACKING BY CANDLE-LIGHT. 

About ten o'clock in the evening, Mlle. Virginie Sambucco said it wastime to think of going home: the ladies lived with monastic regularity. Leon protested; but Clementine obeyed, though not without pouting alittle. Already the parlor door was open, and the old lady had taken herhood in the hall, when the engineer, suddenly struck with an idea, exclaimed:

"You surely won't go without helping me to open my trunks! I demand itof you as a favor, my good Mademoiselle Sambucco!"

The respectable lady paused: custom urged her to go; kindness inclinedher to stay; an atom of curiosity swayed the balance. 

"I'm so glad!" cried Clementine, replacing her aunt's hood on the rack. 

Mme. Renault did not yet know where they had put Leon's baggage. Gothoncame to say that everything had been thrown pell-mell into thesorcerer's den, to remain there until Monsieur should point out what hewanted taken to his own room. The whole company, armed with lamps andcandles, betook themselves to a vast room on the ground floor, wherefurnaces, retorts, philosophical instruments, boxes, trunks, clothesbags, hat boxes and the famous steam-engine, formed a confused andentertaining spectacle. The light played about this interior, as itappears to in certain pictures of the Dutch school. It glanced upon thegreat yellow cylinders of the electric machine, struck upon the longglass bottles, rebounded from two silver reflectors, and rested, inpassing, upon a magnificent Fortin barometer. The Renaults and theirfriends, grouped in the midst of the boxes--some sitting, some standing, one holding a lamp, another a candle--detracted nothing from thepicturesqueness of the scene. 

Leon, with a bunch of little keys, opened the boxes one after another. Clementine was seated opposite him on a great oblong box, and watchedhim with all her eyes, more from affection than curiosity. They began bysetting to one side two enormous square boxes which contained nothingbut mineralogical specimens. After this they passed in review the richesof all kinds which the engineer had crowded among his linen andclothing. 

A pleasant odor of Russia leather, tea from the caravans, Levanttobacco, and attar of roses soon permeated the laboratory. Leon broughtforth a little at a time, as is the custom of all rich travellers who, on leaving home, left a family and good stock of friends behind. Heexhibited, in turn, fabrics of the Asiatic looms, narghiles of embossedsilver from Persia, boxes of tea, sherbets flavored with rose, preciousextracts, golden webs from Tarjok, antique armor, a service of frostedsilver of Toula make, jewelry mounted in the Russian style, Caucasianbracelets, necklaces of milky amber, and a leather sack full ofturquoises such as they sell at the fair of Nijni Novgorod. Each objectpassed from hand to hand amid questions, explanations, and interjectionsof all kinds. All the friends present received the gifts intended forthem. There was a concert of polite refusals, friendly urgings, and'thank-yous' in all sorts of voices. It is unnecessary to say that muchthe greater share fell to the lot of Clementine; but she did not wait tobe urged to accept them, for, in the existing state of affairs, allthese pretty things would be but as a part of the wedding gifts--notgoing out of the family. 

Leon had brought his father an exceedingly handsome dressing gown of acloth embroidered with gold, some antiquarian books found in Moscow, apretty picture by Greuze, which had been stuck out of the way, by theluckiest of accidents, in a mean shop at Gastinitvor; two magnificentspecimens of rock-crystal, and a cane that had belonged to Humboldt. "You see, " said he to M. Renault, on handing him this historic staff, "that the postscript of your last letter did not fall overboard. " Theold professor received the present with visible emotion. 

"I will never use it, " said he to his son. "The Napoleon of science hasheld it in his hand: what would one think if an old sergeant like meshould permit himself to carry it in his walks in the woods? And thecollections? Were you not able to buy anything from them? Did they sellvery high?"

"They were not sold, " answered Leon. "All were placed in the NationalMuseum at Berlin. But in my eagerness to satisfy you, I made a thief ofmyself in a strange way. The very day of my arrival, I told your wish toa guide who was showing me the place. He told me that a friend of his, alittle Jew broker by the name of Ritter, wanted to sell a very fineanatomical specimen that had belonged to the estate. I ran to the Jew's, examined the mummy, for such it was, and, without any haggling, paid theprice he asked. But the next day, a friend of Humboldt, Professor Hirtz, told me the history of this shred of a man, which had been lying aroundthe shop for more than ten years, and never belonged to Humboldt at all. Where the deuce has Gothon stowed it? Ah! Mlle. Clementine is sitting onit. "

Clementine attempted to rise, but Leon made her keep seated. 

"We have plenty of time, " said he, "to take a look at the old baggage;meanwhile you can well imagine that it is not a very cheerful sight. This is the history that good old Hirtz told me; he promised to sendme, in addition, a copy of a very curious memoir on the same subject. Don't go yet, my dear Mademoiselle Sambucco; I have a little militaryand scientific romance for you. We will look at the mummy as soon as Ihave acquainted you with his misfortunes. "

"Aha!" cried M. Audret, the architect of the chateau, "it's the romanceof the mummy, is it, that you're going to tell us? Too late my poorLeon! Theophile Gautier has gotten ahead of you, in the supplement tothe _Moniteur_, and all the world knows your Egyptian history. "

"My history, " said Leon, "is no more Egyptian than Manon Lescault. Ourexcellent doctor Martout, here, ought to know the name of professor JohnMeiser, of Dantzic; he lived at the beginning of this century, and Ithink that his last work appeared in 1824 or 1825. "

"In 1823, " replied M. Martout. "Meiser is one of the scientific men whohave done Germany most honor. In the midst of terrible wars whichdrenched his country in blood, he followed up the researches ofLeeuwenkoeck, Baker, Needham, Fontana, and Spallanzani, on therevivification of animals. Our profession honors in him, one of thefathers of modern biology. "

"Heavens! What ugly big words!" cried Mlle. Sambucco. "Is it decent tokeep people till this time of night, to make them listen to Dutch. "

"Don't listen to the big words, dear little auntey. Save yourself forthe romance, since there is one. "

"A terrible one!" said Leon. "Mlle. Clementine is seated over a humanvictim, sacrificed to science by professor Meiser. "

Clementine instantly got up. Her fiancé handed her a chair, and seatedhimself in the place she had just left. The listeners, fearing thatLeon's romance might be in several volumes, took their places aroundhim, some on boxes, some on chairs. 

CHAPTER III. 

THE CRIME OF THE LEARNED PROFESSOR MEISER. 

"Ladies, " said Leon, "Professor Meiser was no vulgar malefactor, but aman devoted to science and humanity. If he killed the French colonel whoat this moment reposes beneath my coat tails, it was for the sake ofsaving his life, as well as of throwing light on a question of thedeepest interest, even to each one of you. 

"The duration of our existence is very much too brief. That is a factwhich no man can contradict. We know that in a hundred years, not one ofthe nine or ten persons assembled in this house will be living on theface of the earth. Is not this a deplorable fact?"

Mlle. Sambucco heaved a heavy sigh, and Leon continued:

"Alas! Mademoiselle, like you I have sighed many a time at thecontemplation of this dire necessity. You have a niece, the mostbeautiful and the most adorable of all nieces, and the sight of hercharming face gladdens your heart. But you yearn for something more; youwill not be satisfied until you have seen your little grand nephewstrotting around. You will see them I earnestly believe. But will yousee their children? It is doubtful. Their grandchildren? Impossible! Inregard to the tenth, twentieth, thirtieth generation, it is useless evento dream. 

"One _will_ dream of it, nevertheless, and perhaps there is no man whohas not said to himself at least once in his life: 'If I could but cometo life again in a couple of centuries!' One would wish to return toearth to seek news of his family; another, of his dynasty. A philosopheris anxious to know if the ideas that he has planted will have bornefruit; a politician, if his party will have obtained the upper hand; amiser, if his heirs will not have dissipated the fortune he has made; amere land-holder, if the trees in his garden will have grown tall. Noone is indifferent to the future destinies of this world, which wegallop through in a few years, never to return to it again. Who has notenvied the lot of Epimenides, who went to sleep in a cave, and, onreopening his eyes, perceived that the world had grown old? Who has notdreamed, on his own account, of the marvellous adventure of the sleepingBeauty in the wood?

"Well, ladies, Professor Meiser, one of the least visionary men of theage, was persuaded that science could put a living being to sleep andwake him up again at the end of an infinite number of years--arrest allthe functions of the system, suspend life itself, protect an individualagainst the action of time for a century or two, and afterwardsresuscitate him. "

"He was a fool then!" cried Madame Renault. 

"I wouldn't swear it. But he had his own ideas touching the main-springwhich moves a living organism. Do you remember, good mother mine, theimpression you experienced as a little girl, when some one first showedyou the inside of a watch in motion? You were satisfied that there was arestless little animal inside the case, who worked twenty-four hours aday at turning the hands. If the hands stopped going, you said: 'It isbecause the little animal is dead. ' Yet possibly he was only asleep. 

"It has since been explained to you that a watch contains an assemblageof parts well fitted to each other and kept well oiled, which, beingwound, can be considered to move spontaneously in a perfectcorrespondence. If a spring become broken, if a bit of the wheel work beinjured, or if a grain of sand insinuate itself between two of theparts, the watch stops, and the children say rightly: 'The little animalis dead. ' But suppose a sound watch, well made, right in everyparticular, and stopped because the machinery would not run from lack ofoil; the little animal is not dead; nothing but a little oil is neededto wake him up. 

"Here is a first-rate chronometer, made in London. It runs fifteen dayswithout being wound. I gave it a turn of the key yesterday: it has, then, thirteen days to run. If I throw it on the ground, or if I breakthe main-spring, all is over. I will have killed the little animal. Butsuppose that, without damaging anything, I find means to withdraw or dryup the fine oil which now enables the parts to slip upon one another:will the little animal be dead? No! It will be asleep. And the proof isthat I can lay my watch in a drawer, keep it there twenty-five years, and if, after a quarter of a century, I put a drop of oil on it, theparts will begin to move again. All that time would have passed withoutwaking up the little sleeping animal. It will still have thirteen daysto go, after the time when it starts again. 

"All living beings, according to the opinion of Professor Meiser, arewatches, or organisms which move, breathe, nourish themselves, andreproduce themselves as long as their organs are intact and properlyoiled. The oil of the watch is represented in the animal by an enormousquantity of water. In man, for example, water provides about four-fifthsof the whole weight. Given--a colonel weighing a hundred and fiftypounds, there are thirty pounds of colonel and a hundred and twentypounds, or about sixty quarts, of water. This is a fact proven bynumerous experiments. I say a colonel just as I would say a king; allmen are equal when submitted to analysis. 

"Professor Meiser was satisfied, as are all physiologists, that tobreak a colonel's head, or to make a hole in his heart, or to cut hisspinal column in two, is to kill the little animal; because the brain, the heart, the spinal marrow are the indispensable springs, withoutwhich the machine cannot go. But he thought too, that in removing sixtyquarts of water from a living person, one merely puts the little animalto sleep without killing him--that a colonel carefully dried up, canremain preserved a hundred years, and then return to life whenever anyone will replace in him the drop of oil, or rather the sixty quarts ofwater, without which the human machine cannot begin moving again. 

"This opinion, which may appear inadmissible to you and to me too, butwhich is not absolutely rejected by our friend Doctor Martout, restsupon a series of reliable observations which the merest tyro can verifyto-day. There _are_ animals which can be resuscitated: nothing is morecertain or better proven. Herr Meiser, like the Abbé Spallanzani andmany others, collected from the gutter of his roof some little driedworms which were brittle as glass, and restored life to them by soakingthem in water. The capacity of thus returning to life, is not theprivilege of a single species: its existence has been satisfactorilyestablished in numerous and various animals. The genus Volvox--thelittle worms or wormlets in vinegar, mud, spoiled paste, or grain-smut;the Rotifera--a kind of little shell-fish protected by a carapace, provided with a good digestive apparatus, of separate sexes, having anervous system with a distinct brain, having either one or two eyes, according to the genus, a crystalline lens, and an optic nerve; theTardigrades--which are little spiders with six or eight legs, separatesexes, regular digestive apparatus, a mouth, two eyes, a very welldefined nervous system, and a very well developed muscular system;--allthese die and revive ten or fifteen times consecutively, at the will ofthe naturalist. One dries up a rotifer: good night to him; somebodysoaks him a little, and he wakes up to bid you good day. All dependsupon taking great care while he is dry. You understand that if any oneshould merely break his head, no drop of water, nor river, nor oceancould restore him. 

"The marvellous thing is, that an animal which cannot live more than ayear, like the minute worm in grain-smut, can lie by twenty-four yearswithout dying, if one has taken the precaution of desiccating him. 

"Needham collected a lot of them in 1743; he presented them to MartinFolkes, who gave them to Baker, and these interesting creatures revivedin water in 1771. They enjoyed a rare satisfaction in elbowing their owntwenty-eighth generation. Wouldn't a man who should see his owntwenty-eighth generation be a happy grandfather?

"Another no less interesting fact is that desiccated animals have vastlymore tenacity of life than others. If the temperature were suddenly tofall thirty degrees in this laboratory, we should all get inflammationof the lungs. If it were to rise as much, there would be danger ofcongestion of the brain. Well, a desiccated animal, which is notabsolutely dead, and which will revive to-morrow if I soak it, faceswith impunity, variations of ninety-five degrees and six-tenths. M. Meiser and plenty of others have proved it. 

"It remains to inquire, then, if a superior animal, a man for instance, can be desiccated without any more disastrous consequences than a littleworm or a tardigrade. M. Meiser was convinced that it is practicable; hewrote to that effect in all his books, although he did not demonstrateit by experiment. 

"Now where would be the harm in it, ladies? All men curious in regard tothe future, or dissatisfied with life, or out of sorts with theircontemporaries, could hold themselves in reserve for a better age, andwe should have no more suicides on account of misanthropy. Valetudinarians, whom the ignorant science of the nineteenth centurydeclares incurable, needn't blow their brains out any more; they canhave themselves dried up and wait peaceably in a box until Medicineshall have found a remedy for their disorders. Rejected lovers need nolonger throw themselves into the river; they can put themselves underthe receiver of an air pump, and make their appearance thirty yearslater, young, handsome and triumphant, satirizing the age of their cruelcharmers, and paying them back scorn for scorn. Governments will giveup the unnatural and barbarous custom of guillotining dangerous people. They will no longer shut them up in cramped cells at Mazas to completetheir brutishness; they will not send them to the Toulon school tofinish their criminal education; they will merely dry them up inbatches--one for ten years, another for forty, according to the gravityof their deserts. A simple store-house will replace the prisons, policelock-ups and jails. There will be no more escapes to fear, no moreprisoners to feed. An enormous quantity of dried beans and mouldypotatoes will be saved for the consumption of the country. 

"You have, ladies, a feeble delineation of the benefits which DoctorMeiser hoped to pour upon Europe by introducing the desiccation of man. He made his great experiment in 1813 on a French colonel--a prisoner, Ihave been told, and condemned as a spy by court-martial. Unhappily hedid not succeed; for I bought the colonel and his box for the price ofan ordinary cavalry horse, in the dirtiest shop in Berlin. "

CHAPTER IV. 

THE VICTIM. 

"My dear Leon, " said M. Renault, "you remind me of a collegecommencement. We have listened to your dissertation just as they listento the Latin discourse of the professor of rhetoric; there are always inthe audience a majority which learns nothing from it, and a minoritywhich understands nothing of it. But every body listens patiently, onaccount of the sensations which are to come by and by. M. Martout and Iare acquainted with Meiser's works, and those of his distinguishedpupil, M. Pouchet; you have, then, said too much that is in them, if youintended to speak for our benefit; and you have not said enough that isin them for these ladies and gentlemen who know nothing of the existingdiscussions regarding the vital and organic principles. 

"Is life a principle of action which animates the organs and puts theminto play? Is it not, on the contrary, merely the result oforganization--the play of various functions of organized matter? This isa problem of the highest importance, which would interest the ladiesthemselves, if one were to place it plainly before them. It would besufficient to say: 'We inquire whether there is a vital principle--thesource of all functions of the body, or if life be not merely the resultof the regular play of the organs? The vital principle, in the eyes ofMeiser and his disciple, does not exist; if it really existed, they say, one could not understand how it can leave a man and a tardigrade whenthey are desiccated, and return to them again when they are soaked. 'Now, if there be no vital principle, all the metaphysical and moraltheories which have been hypothecated on its existence, must bereconstructed. These ladies have listened to you patiently, it is butjustice to them to admit; but all that they have been able to gatherfrom your slightly Latinish discourse, is that you have given them adissertation instead of the romance you promised. But we all forgive youfor the sake of the mummy you are going to show us. Open the colonel'sbox. "

"We've well earned the sight!" cried Clementine, laughing. 

"But suppose you were to get frightened?"

"I'd have you know, sir, that I'm not afraid of anybody, not even oflive colonels!"

Leon took his bunch of keys and opened the long oak box on which he hadbeen seated. The lid being raised, they saw a great leaden casket whichenclosed a magnificent walnut box carefully polished on the outside, andlined on the inside with white silk, and padded. The others broughttheir lamps and candles near, and the colonel of the 23d of the lineappeared as if he were in a chapel illuminated for his lying in state. 

One would have said that the man was asleep. The perfect preservation ofthe body attested the paternal care of the murderer. It was truly aremarkable preparation, and would have borne comparison with the finestEuropean mummies described by Vicq d'Azyr in 1779, and by the youngerPuymaurin in 1787. 

The part best preserved, as is always the case, was the face. All thefeatures had maintained a proud and manly expression. If any old friendof the colonel had been present at the opening of the third box, hewould have recognized him at first sight. 

Undoubtedly the point of the nose was a little sharper, the nostrilsless expanded and thinner, and the bridge a little more marked than inthe year 1813. The eyelids were thinned, the lips pinched, the cornersof the mouth drawn down, the cheek bones too prominent, and the neckvisibly shrunken, which exaggerated the prominence of the chin andlarynx. But the eyelids were closed without contraction, and the socketsmuch less hollow than one could have expected; the mouth was not at alldistorted like the mouth of a corpse; the skin was slightly wrinkled buthad not changed color; it had only become a little more transparent, showing, after a fashion, the color of the tendons, the fat and themuscles, wherever it rested directly upon them. It also had a rosy tintwhich is not ordinarily seen in embalmed corpses. Doctor Martoutexplained this anomaly by saying that if the colonel had actually beendried alive, the globules of the blood were not decomposed, but simplycollected in the capillary vessels of the skin and subjacent tissueswhere they still preserved their proper color, and could be seen moreeasily than otherwise, on account of the semi-transparency of the skin. 

The uniform had become much too large, as may be readily understood;though it did not seem, at a casual glance, that the members had becomedeformed. The hands were dry and angular, but the nails, although alittle bent inward toward the root, had preserved all their freshness. The only very noticeable change was the excessive depression of theabdominal walls, which seemed crowded downward toward the posteriorside; at the right, a slight elevation indicated the place of the liver. A tap of the finger on the various parts of the body, produced a soundlike that from dry leather. While Leon was pointing out these details tohis audience and doing the honors of his mummy he awkwardly broke offthe lower part of the right ear, and a little piece of the Colonelremained in his hand. 

This trifling accident might have passed unnoticed, had not Clementine, who followed with visible emotion all the movements of her lover, dropped her candle and uttered a cry of affright. All gathered aroundher. Leon took her in his arms and carried her to a chair. M. Renaultran after salts. She was as pale as death, and seemed on the point offainting. 

She soon recovered, however, and reassured them all by a charming smile. 

"Pardon me, " she said, "for such a ridiculous exhibition of terror; butwhat Monsieur Leon was saying to us . . . And then . . . That figure whichseemed sleeping . . . It appeared to me that the poor man was going toopen his mouth and cry out when he was injured. "

Leon hastened to close the walnut box, while M. Martout picked up thepiece of ear and put it in his pocket. But Clementine, while continuingto smile and make apologies, was overcome by a fresh accession ofemotion and melted into tears. The engineer threw himself at her feet, poured forth excuses and tender phrases, and did all he could to consoleher inexplicable grief. Clementine dried her eyes, looked prettier thanever, and sighed fit to break her heart, without knowing why. 

"Beast that I am!" muttered Leon, tearing his hair. "On the day when Isee her again after three years' absence, I can think of nothing moresoul-inspiring than showing her mummies!" He launched a kick at thetriple coffin of the Colonel, saying: "I wish the devil had theconfounded Colonel!"

"No!" cried Clementine with redoubled energy and emotion. "Do not cursehim, Monsieur Leon! He has suffered so much! Ah! poor, poor unfortunateman!"

Mlle. Sambucco felt a little ashamed. She made excuses for her niece, and declared that never, since her tenderest childhood, had shemanifested such extreme sensitiveness. M. And Mme. Renault, who had seenher grow up; Doctor Martout who had held the sinecure of physician toher; the architect, the notary, in a word, everybody present was plungedinto a state of absolute stupefaction. Clementine was no sensitiveplant. She was not even a romantic school girl. Her youth had not beennourished by Anne Radcliffe, she did not trouble herself about ghosts, and she would go through the house very tranquilly at ten o'clock atnight without a candle. When her mother died, some months before Leon'sdeparture, she did not wish to have any one share with her the sadsatisfaction of watching and praying in the death-chamber. 

"This will teach us, " said the aunt, "how to stay up after ten o'clock. What! It is midnight, all to quarter of an hour! Come, my child; youwill get better fast enough after you get to bed. "

Clementine arose submissively, but at the moment of leaving thelaboratory she retraced her steps, and with a caprice more inexplicablethan her grief, she absolutely wished to see the mummy of the colonelagain. Her aunt scolded in vain; in spite of the remarks of Mlle. Sambucco and all the persons present, she reopened the walnut box, kneeled down beside the mummy and kissed it on the forehead. 

"Poor man!" said she, rising, "How cold he is! Monsieur Leon, promise methat if he is dead you will have him laid in consecrated ground!"

"As you please, Mademoiselle. I had intended to send him to theanthropological museum, with my father's permission; but you know thatwe can refuse you nothing. "

They did not separate as gaily, by a good deal, as they had met. M. Renault and his son escorted Mlle. Sambucco and her niece to their door, and met the big colonel of cuirassiers who had been honoring Clementinewith his attentions. The young girl tenderly pressed the arm of herbetrothed and said: "Here is a man who never sees me without sighing. And what sighs! Gracious Heavens! It wouldn't take more than two to fillthe sails of a a ship. The race of colonels has vastly degenerated since1813. One doesn't see any more such fine looking ones as our unfortunatefriend. "

Leon agreed with all she said. But he did not exactly see how he hadbecome the friend of a mummy for which he had just paid twenty-fivelouis. To divert the conversation, he said to Clementine: "I have notyet shown you all the nice things I brought. His majesty, the Emperor ofall the Russias, made me a present of a little enamelled gold starhanging at the end of a ribbon. Do you like button-hole ribbons?"

"Oh, yes!" answered she, "the red ribbon of the Legion of Honor. Did younotice? The poor colonel still has a shred of one on his uniform, butthe cross is there no longer. Those wicked Germans tore it away from himwhen they took him prisoner!"

"It's very possible, " said Leon. 

When they reached Mlle. Sambucco's house, it was time to separate. Clementine offered her hand to Leon, who would have been better pleasedwith her cheek. 

Father and son returned home arm in arm, with slow steps, givingthemselves up to endless conjectures regarding the whimsical emotions ofClementine. 

Mme. Renault was waiting to put her son to bed; a time-honored andtouching habit which mothers do not early lose. She showed him thehandsome apartment above the parlor and M. Renault's laboratory, whichhad been prepared for his future domicile. 

"You will be as snug in here as a little cock in a pie, " said she, showing him a bed-chamber fairly marvellous in its comfort. "All thefurniture is soft and rounded, without a single angle. A blind man couldwalk here without any fear of hurting himself. See how I understanddomestic comfort! Why, each arm-chair can be a friend! This will costyou a trifle. Penon Brothers came from Paris expressly. But a man oughtto be comfortable at home, so that he may have no temptation to goabroad. "

This sweet motherly prattle stretched itself over two good hours, andmuch of it related to Clementine, as you will readily suppose. Leon hadfound her prettier than he had dreamed her in his sweetest visions, butless loving. "Devil take me!" said he, blowing out his candle; "Onemight think that that confounded stuffed Colonel had come to thrusthimself between us. "

CHAPTER V. 

DREAMS OF LOVE, AND OTHER DREAMS. 

Leon learned to his cost, that a good conscience and a good bed are notenough to insure a good sleep. He was bedded like a sybarite, innocentas an Arcadian shepherd, and, moreover, tired as a soldier after aforced march; nevertheless a dull sleeplessness weighed upon him untilmorning. In vain he tossed into every possible position, as if to shiftthe burden from one shoulder on to the other. He did not close his eyesuntil he had seen the first glimmering of dawn silver the chinks of hisshutters. 

He lulled himself to sleep thinking of Clementine; an obliging dreamsoon showed him the image of her he loved. He saw her in bridal costume, in the chapel of the imperial chateau. She was leaning on the arm of theelder M. Renault, who had put spurs on in honor of the ceremony. Leonfollowed, having given his arm to Mlle. Sambucco; the ancient maiden wasdecorated with the insignia of the Legion of Honor. On approaching thealtar, the bridegroom noticed that his father's legs were as thin asbroomsticks, and, when he was about expressing his astonishment, M. Renault turned around and said to him: "They are thin because they aredesiccated; but they are not deformed. " While he was giving thisexplanation, his face altered, his features changed, he shot out a blackmoustache, and grew terribly like the Colonel. The ceremony began. Thechoir was filled with tardigrades and rotifers as large as men anddressed like choristers: they intoned, in solemn measure, a hymn of theGerman composer, Meiser, which began thus:

 The vital principle Is a gratuitous hypothesis!

The poetry and the music appeared admirable to Leon; he was trying toimpress them on his memory when the officiating priest advanced towardhim with two gold rings on a silver salver. This priest was a colonel ofcuirassiers in full uniform. Leon asked himself when and where he hadmet him. It was on the previous evening before Clementine's door. Thecuirassier murmured these words: "The race of colonels has vastlydegenerated since 1813. " He heaved a profound sigh, and the nave of thechapel, which was a ship-of-the-line, was driven over the water at aspeed of forty knots. Leon tranquilly took the little gold ring andprepared to place it on Clementine's finger, but he perceived that thehand of his betrothed was dried up; the nails alone had retained theirnatural freshness. He was frightened and fled across the church, whichhe found filled with colonels of every age and variety. The crowd wasso dense that the most unheard-of efforts failed to penetrate it. Heescapes at last, but hears behind him the hurried steps of a man whotries to catch him. He doubles his speed, he throws himself onall-fours, he gallops, he neighs, the trees on the way seem to flybehind him, he no longer touches the earth. But the enemy comes upfaster than the wind; Leon hears the sound of his steps, his spursjingle; he catches up with Leon, seizes him by the mane, flings himselfwith a bound upon his back, and goads him with the spur. Leon rears; therider bends over toward his ear and says, stroking him with his whip: "Iam not heavy to carry:--thirty pounds of colonel. " The unhappy lover ofMlle. Clementine makes a violent effort and springs sideways; theColonel falls and draws his sword. Leon loses no time; he puts himselfon guard and fights, but almost instantly feels the Colonel's swordenter his heart to the hilt. The chill of the blade spreads further andfurther, and ends by freezing Leon from head to foot. The Colonel drawsnearer and says, smiling: "The main-spring is broken; the little animalis dead. " He puts the body in the walnut box, which is too short and toonarrow. Cramped on every side, Leon struggles, strains and wakes himselfup, worn out with fatigue and half smothered between the bed and thewall. 

He quickly jumped into his slippers and eagerly raised the windows andpushed open the shutters. "He made light, and saw that it was good, " asis elsewhere written. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Brrroum! He shook offthe recollections of his dream as a wet dog shakes off drops of water. The famous London chronometer told him that it was nine o'clock. A cupof chocolate, served by Gothon, helped not a little to untangle hisideas. On proceeding with his toilet, in a very bright, cheerful andconvenient dressing-room, he reconciled himself to the realities oflife. "Everything considered, " he said to himself, combing out hisyellow beard, "nothing but happiness has come to me. Here I am in mynative country, with my family and in a pretty house which is our own. My father and mother are both well, and, for myself, I revel in the mostluxuriant health. Our fortune is moderate, but so are our tastes, and weshall never feel the want of anything. Our friends received me yesterdaywith open arms; and as for enemies we have none. The prettiest girl inFontainebleau is willing to become my wife; I can marry her in less thanthree weeks if I see fit to hurry things a little. Clementine did notmeet me as if I were of no interest to her; far from it. Her lovely eyessmiled upon me last night with the most tender regard. It is true thatshe wept at the end, that's too certain. That is my only vexation, myonly anxiety, the sole cause of that foolish dream I had last night. Shedid weep, but why? Because I was beast enough to regale her with alecture, and that, too, about a mummy. All right! I'll have the mummyburied; I'll hold back my dissertations, and nothing else in the worldwill come to disturb our happiness. "

He went down stairs, humming an air from the _Nozze_. M. And Mme. Renault, who were not accustomed to going to bed after midnight, werestill asleep. On going into the laboratory, he saw that the triple boxof the Colonel was closed. Gothon had placed a little wooden cross and asprig of consecrated box on the cover. "We may as well begin masses forhis soul, " he murmured between his teeth, with a smile that might havebeen a little sceptical. At the same time he noticed that Clementine, inher agitation, had forgotten the presents he had brought her. He made abundle of them, looked at his watch, and concluded that there would beno indiscretion in straining a point to go to Mlle. Sambucco's. 

The much-to-be-respected aunt was an early riser, as they generally arein the rural districts, and had, in fact, already gone out to church, and Clementine was gardening near the house. She ran to her loverwithout thinking of throwing down the little rake she held in her hand, and with the sweetest smile in the world, held up her pretty rosy cheekswhich were a little moist and flushed by the pleasant warmth of pleasureand exercise. 

"Aren't you put out with me?" said she. "I was very ridiculous lastnight. My aunt has scolded me in the bargain. And I forgot to take thepretty things you brought me from among the savages! But it was notfrom lack of appreciation. I am so happy to see that you have alwaysthought of me as I have thought of you! I could have sent for themto-day, but I am pleasantly anticipated. My heart told me that you wouldcome yourself. "

"Your heart knew me, dear Clementine. "

"It would be very unfortunate if it did not know its owner. "

"How good you are, and how much I love you!"

"Oh! I, too, dear Leon, I love you dearly. "

She stood the rake against a tree, and hung upon the arm of her intendedhusband with that supple and languishing grace, the secret of which thecreoles possess. 

"Come this way, " said she, "so that I can show you all the improvementswe have made in the garden. "

Leon admired everything she wanted him to. The fact is that he had eyesfor nothing but her. The grotto of Polyphemus and the cave of Cæcuswould have appeared to him pleasanter than the gardens of Armida, ifClementine's little red jacket had been promenading in them. 

He asked her if she did not feel some regret in leaving so charming aretreat, and one which she had embellished with so much care. 

"Why?" asked she, without thinking to blush. "We will not go far off, and, besides, won't we come here every day?"

The coming marriage was a thing so well settled, that it had not evenbeen spoken of on the previous evening. Nothing remained to be done butto publish the bans and fix the date. Clementine, simple and honestheart, expressed herself without any false modesty concerning an eventso entirely expected, so natural and so agreeable. She had expressed hertastes to Mme. Renault in the arrangement of the new apartments, andchosen the hangings herself; and she no longer made any ceremony intalking with her intended of the happy life in common which was aboutbeginning for them, of the people they would invite to the marriageceremony, of the wedding calls to be made afterwards, of the day whichshould be appropriated for receptions and of the time they would devoteto each other's society and to work. She inquired in regard to theoccupation which Leon intended to make for himself, and the hours which, of preference, he would give to study. This excellent little woman wouldhave been ashamed to bear the name of a sloth, and unhappy in passingher days with an idler. She promised Leon in advance, to respect hiswork as a sacred thing. On her part she thoroughly intended to make hertime also of use, and not to live with folded arms. At the start shewould take charge of the housekeeping, under the direction of MadameRenault, who was beginning to find it a little burdensome. And thenwould she not soon have children to care for, bring up and educate? Thiswas a noble and useful pleasure which she did not intend to share withany one. Nevertheless she would send her sons to college, in order tofit them for living in the world, and to teach them early thoseprinciples of justice and equality which are the foundation of everygood manly character. Leon let her talk on, only interrupting her toagree with her: for these two young people who had been educated andbrought up with the same ideas, saw everything with the same eyes. Education had created this pleasant harmony rather than Love. 

"Do you know, " said Clementine, "that I felt an awful palpitation of theheart when I entered the room where you were yesterday?"

"If you think that my heart beat less violently than yours--"

"Oh! but it was a different thing with me: I was afraid. "

"What of?"

"I was afraid that I should not find you the same as I had seen you inmy thoughts. Remember that it had been three years since we bid eachother good bye. I remembered distinctly what you were when you wentaway, and, with imagination helping memory a little, I had reconstructedmy Leon entire. But if you had no longer resembled him! What would havebecome of me in the presence of a new Leon, when I had formed thepleasant habit of loving the other?"

"You make me tremble. But your first greeting reassured me in advance. "

"Tut, sir! Don't speak of that first greeting, or you will make me blusha second time. Let us speak rather of that poor colonel who made me shedso many tears. How is he getting along this morning?"

"I forgot to inquire after his health, but if you want me to--"

"It's useless. You can announce to him a visit from me to-day. It isabsolutely necessary that I should see him this noon. "

"You would be very sensible to give up this fancy. Why expose yourselfagain to such painful emotions?"

"The fancy is stronger than I am. Seriously, dear Leon, the old fellowattracts me. "

"Why 'old fellow?' He has the appearance of a man who died when fromtwenty-five to thirty years of age. "

"Are you very sure that he is dead? I said 'old fellow' because of adream I had last night. "

"Ha! You too?"

"Yes. You remember how agitated I was on leaving you, and, moreover, Ihad been scolded by my aunt. And, too, I had been thinking of terriblesights--my poor mother lying on her death-bed. In fact, my spirits werequite broken down. "

"Poor dear little heart!"

"Nevertheless, as I did not want to think about anything any more, Iwent to bed quickly, and shut my eyes with all my might, so tightly, indeed, that I put myself to sleep. It was not long before I saw thecolonel. He was lying as I saw him in his triple coffin, but he had longwhite hair and a most benign and venerable appearance. He begged us toput him in consecrated ground, and we carried him, you and I, to theFontainebleau cemetery. On reaching my mother's tomb we saw that thestone was displaced. My mother, in a white robe, was moved so as to makea place beside her, and she seemed waiting for the colonel. But everytime we attempted to lay him down, the coffin left our hands and restedsuspended in the air, as if it had no weight. I could distinguish thepoor old man's features, for his triple coffin had become as transparentas the alabaster lamp burning near the ceiling of my chamber. He wassad, and his broken ear bled freely. All at once he escaped from ourhands, the coffin vanished, and I saw nothing but him, pale as a statue, and tall as the tallest oaks of the _bas-Breau_. His golden epaulettesspread out and became wings, and he raised himself to heaven, holdingover us both hands as if in blessing. I woke up all in tears, but I havenot told my dream to my aunt, for she would have scolded me again. "

"No one ought to be scolded but me, Clementine dear. It is my fault thatyour gentle slumbers are troubled by visions of the other world. But allthis will be stopped soon: to-day I am going to seek a definitereceptacle for the Colonel. "

CHAPTER VI. 

A YOUNG GIRL'S CAPRICE. 

Clementine had a fresh young heart. Before knowing Leon, she had lovedbut one person--her mother. No cousins of either sex, nor uncles, noraunts, nor grandfathers, nor grandmothers, had dissipated, by dividingit among themselves, that little treasure of affection whichwell-constituted children bring into the world. The grandmother, Clementine Pichon, was married at Nancy in January, 1814, and died threemonths later in the suburbs of Toulon, during her first confinement. Thegrandfather, M. Langevin, a sub-commissary of the first class, beingleft a widower, with a daughter in the cradle, devoted himself tobringing up his child. He gave her, in 1835, to M. Sambucco, anestimable and agreeable man, of Italian extraction, born in France, andKing's counsel in the court of Marseilles. In 1838 M. Sambucco, who wasa man of considerable independence, because he had resources of his own, in some manner highly honorable to himself, incurred the ill-will of theKeeper of the Seals. He was therefore appointed Advocate-General toMartinique, and after some days of hesitation, accepted the transfer tothat remote situation. But old M. Langevin did not easily consolehimself for the departure of his daughter: he died two years laterwithout having embraced the little Clementine, to whom it was intendedthat he should be godfather. M. Sambucco, his son-in-law, lost his lifein 1843, during an earthquake. The papers of the colony and of themetropolis related at the time how he had fallen a victim to hisdevotion to others. After this fearful misfortune, the young widowhastened to recross the sea with her daughter. She settled inFontainebleau, in order that the child might live in a healthyatmosphere. Fontainebleau is one of the healthiest places in France. IfMme. Sambucco had been as good a manager as she was mother, she wouldhave left Clementine a respectable fortune, but she regulated heraffairs badly and got herself under heavy embarrassments. A neighboringnotary relieved her of a round sum; and two farms which she had paiddearly for, brought her almost nothing. In short, she no longer knewwhat her situation was, and began to lose all control of it, when asister of her husband, an old maid, pinched and pious, expressed adesire to live with her and use their resources in common. The arrivalof this long-toothed spinster strangely frightened the littleClementine, who hid herself under the furniture and nestled among hermother's skirts; but it was the salvation of the house. Mlle. Sambuccowas not one of the most spirituelle nor one of the most romantic ofwomen, but she was Order incarnated. She reduced the expenses, handledthe resources herself, sold the two farms in 1847, bought somethree-per-cents. In 1848, and restored stable equilibrium in the budget. Thanks to the talents and activity of this female steward, the gentleand improvident widow had nothing to do but to fondle her child. Clementine learned to honor the virtues of her aunt, but she adored hermother. When she had the affliction of losing her, she found herselfalone in the world, leaning on Mlle. Sambucco, like a young plant on aprop of dry wood. It was then that her friendship for Leon glimmeredwith a vague ray of love; and young Renault profited by the necessityfor expansion which filled this youthful soul. 

During the three long years that Leon spent away from her, Clementinescarcely knew that she was alone. She loved and felt that she was lovedin return; she had faith in the future, and an inner life of tendernessand timid hope; and this noble and gentle heart required nothing more. 

But what completely astonished her betrothed, her aunt and herself, andstrangely subverted all the best accredited theories respecting thefeminine heart, --what, indeed, reason would have refused to credit hadit not been established by facts, was that the day when she again metthe husband of her choice, an hour after she had thrown herself intoLeon's arms with a grace so full of trust, Clementine was so abruptlyinvaded by a new sentiment which was not love, nor friendship, nor fear, but transcended them all and spoke with master tones in her heart. 

From the instant when Leon had shown her the figure of the Colonel, shehad been seized by an actual passion for this nameless mummy. It wasnothing like what she felt towards young Renault, but it was acombination of interest, compassion and respectful sympathy. 

If any one had recounted some famous feat of arms, or some romantichistory of which the Colonel had been the hero, this impression wouldhave been natural, or, at least, explicable. But she knew nothing of himexcept that he had been condemned as a spy by a council of war, and yetshe dreamed of him the very night after Leon's return. 

This inexplicable prepossession at first manifested itself in areligious form. She caused a mass to be said for the repose of theColonel's soul, and urged Leon to make preparations for the funeral, herself selecting the ground in which he was to be interred. Thesevarious cares never caused her to omit her daily visit to the walnutbox, or the respectful bending of the knee before the body, or thesisterly or filial kiss which she regularly placed upon its forehead. The Renault family soon became uneasy about such strange symptoms, andhastened the interment of the attractive unknown, in order to relievethemselves of him as soon as possible. But the day before the one fixedfor the ceremony, Clementine changed her mind. 

"By what right could they shut in the tomb a man who, possibly, was notdead? The theories of the learned Doctor Meiser were not such that onecould reject them without examination. The matter was at least worthy ofa few days' reflection. Was it not possible to submit the Colonel's bodyto some experiments? Professor Hirtz, of Berlin, had promised to sendsome valuable documents concerning the life and death of thisunfortunate officer: nothing ought to be undertaken before they werereceived; some one ought to write to Berlin to hasten the sending ofthese papers. "

Leon sighed, but yielded uncomplainingly to this new caprice, and wroteto M. Hirtz. 

Clementine found an ally in this second campaign in Doctor Martout. Though he was but an average practitioner and disdained the acquisitionof practice far too much, M. Martout was not deficient in knowledge. Hehad long been studying five or six great questions in physiology, suchas reanimation, spontaneous generation and the topics connected withthem. A regular correspondence kept him posted in all recentdiscoveries; he was the friend of M. Pouchet, of Rouen; and knew alsothe celebrated Karl Nibor, who has carried the use of the microscopeinto researches so wide and so profound. M. Martout had desiccated andresuscitated thousands of little worms, rotifers and tardigrades; heheld that life is nothing but organization in action, and that the ideaof reviving a desiccated man has nothing absurd about it. He gavehimself up to long meditations when Professor Hirtz sent from Berlin thefollowing document, the original of which is filed among the manuscriptsof the Humboldt collection. 

CHAPTER VII. 

PROFESSOR MEISER'S WILL IN FAVOR OF THE DESICCATED COLONEL. 

On this 20th day of January, 1824, being worn down by a cruel malady andfeeling the approach of the time when my person shall be absorbed in theGreat All;

I have written with my own hand this testament which is the expressionof my last will. 

I appoint as executor my nephew Nicholas Meiser, a wealthy brewer in thecity of Dantzic. 

I bequeath my books, papers and scientific collections of all kinds, except item 3712, to my very estimable and learned friend, Herr VonHumboldt. 

I bequeath all the rest of my effects, real and personal, valued at100, 000 Prussian thalers or 375, 000 francs, to Colonel Pierre VictorFougas, at present desiccated, but living, and entered in my catalogueopposite No. 3712 (Zoology). 

I trust that he will accept this feeble compensation for the ordeals hehas undergone in my laboratory, and the service he has rendered toscience. 

Finally, in order that my nephew Nicholas Meiser may exactly understandthe duties I leave him to perform, I have resolved to inscribe here adetailed account of the desiccation of Colonel Fougas, my sole heir. 

It was on the 11th of November in that unhappy year 1813, that myrelations with this brave young man began. I had long since quittedDantzic, where the noise of cannon and the danger from bombs hadrendered all labor impossible, and retired with my instruments and booksunder the protection of the Allied Armies in the fortified town ofLiebenfeld. The French garrisons of Dantzic, Stettin, Custrin, Glogau, Hamburg and several other German towns could not communicate with eachother or with their native land; meanwhile General Rapp was obstinatelydefending himself against the English fleet and the Russian army. Colonel Fougas was taken by a detachment of the Barclay de Tolly corps, as he was trying to pass the Vistula on the ice, on the way to Dantzic. They brought him prisoner to Liebenfeld on the 11th of November, just atmy supper time, and Sergeant Garok, who commanded in the village, forcedme to be present at the examination and act as interpreter. 

The open countenance, manly voice, proud firmness and fine carriage ofthe unfortunate young man won my heart. He had made the sacrifice of hislife. His only regret, he said, was having stranded so near port, afterpassing through four armies; and being unable to carry out the Emperor'sorders. He appeared animated by that French fanaticism which has doneso much harm to our beloved Germany. Nevertheless I could not helpdefending him; and I translated his words less as an interpreter than asan advocate. Unhappily, they found upon him a letter from Napoleon toGeneral Rapp, of which I preserved a copy:

 "Abandon Dantzic, break the blockade, unite with the garrisons of Stettin, Custrin and Glogau, march along the Elbe, arrange with St. Cyr and Davoust to concentrate the forces scattered at Dresden, Forgau, Wittenberg, Magdeburg and Hamburg; roll up an army like a snow ball; cross Westphalia, which is open, and come to defend the line of the Rhine with an army of 170, 000 Frenchmen which you will have saved!

 "NAPOLEON. "

This letter was sent to the headquarters of the Russian army, whilst ahalf-dozen illiterate soldiers, drunk with joy and bad brandy, condemnedthe brave Colonel of the 23d of the line to the death of a spy and atraitor. The execution was fixed for the next day, the 12th, and M. Pierre Victor Fougas, after having thanked and embraced me with the mosttouching sensibility, (He is a husband and a father. ) was shut up in thelittle battlemented tower of Liebenfeld, where the wind whistlesterribly through all the loopholes. 

The night of the 11th and 12th of November was one of the severest ofthat terrible winter. My self-registering thermometer, which hungoutside my window with a southeast exposure, marked nineteen degreesbelow zero, centigrade. I went early in the morning to bid the Colonel alast farewell, and met Sergeant Garok, who said to me in bad German:

"We won't have to kill the Frantzouski, he is frozen to death. "

I ran to the prison. The colonel was lying on his back, rigid. But Ifound after a few minutes' examination, that the rigidity of the bodywas not that of death. The joints, though they had not their ordinarysuppleness, could be bent and extended without any great effort. Thelimbs, the face, and the chest gave my hands a sensation of cold, butvery different from that which I had often experienced from contact withcorpses. 

Knowing that he had passed several nights without sleep, and enduredextraordinary fatigues, I did not doubt that he had fallen into thatprofound and lethargic sleep which is superinduced by intense cold, andwhich if too far prolonged slackens respiration and circulation to apoint where the most delicate physiological tests are necessary todiscover the continuance of life. The pulse was insensible; at least myfingers, benumbed with cold, could not feel it. My hardness of hearing(I was then in my sixty-ninth year) prevented my determining byauscultation whether the beats of the heart still aroused those feeblethough prolonged vibrations which the ear continues to hear some timeafter the hand fails to detect them. 

The colonel had reached that point of torpor produced by cold, where torevive a man without causing him to die, requires numerous and delicateattentions. Some hours after, congelation would supervene, and with it, impossibility of restoration to life. 

I was in the greatest perplexity. On the one hand I knew that he wasdying on my hands by congelation; on the other, I could not, by myself, bestow upon him the attentions that were indispensable. If I were toadminister stimulants without having him, at the same time, rubbed onthe trunk and limbs by three or four vigorous assistants, I would revivehim only to see him die. I had still before my eyes the spectacle ofthat lovely young girl asphyxiated in a fire, whom I succeeded inreviving by placing burning coals under the clavicles, but who couldonly call her mother, and died almost immediately, in spite of theadministration of internal stimulants and electricity for inducingcontractions of the diaphragm and heart. 

And even if I should succeed in bringing him back to health andstrength, was not he condemned by court-martial? Did not humanity forbidmy rousing him from this repose akin to death, to deliver him to thehorrors of execution?

I must confess that in the presence of this organism where life wassuspended, my ideas on reanimation took, as it were, fresh hold upon me. I had so often desiccated and revived beings quite elevated in theanimal scale, that I did not doubt the success of the operation, even ona man. By myself alone I could not revive and save the Colonel; but Ihad in my laboratory, all the instruments necessary to desiccate himwithout assistance. 

To sum up, three alternatives offered themselves to me. I. To leave theColonel in the crenellated tower, where he would have died the same dayof congelation. II. To revive him by stimulants, at the risk of killinghim. And for what? To give him up, in case of success, to inevitableexecution. III. To desiccate him in my laboratory with the quasicertainty of resuscitating him after the restoration of peace. Allfriends of humanity will doubtless comprehend that I could not hesitatelong. 

I had Sergeant Garok called, and I begged him to sell me the body of theColonel. It was not the first time that I had bought a corpse fordissection, so my request excited no suspicion. The bargain concluded, Igave him four bottles of kirsch-wasser, and soon two Russian soldiersbrought me Colonel Fougas on a stretcher. 

As soon as I was alone with him, I pricked one of his fingers: pressureforced out a drop of blood. To place it under a microscope between twoplates of glass was the work of a minute. Oh, joy! The fibrin was notcoagulated. The red globules appeared cleanly circular, flattened, biconcave, and without notches, indentations or spheroidal swellings. The white globules changed their shape, taking at intervals thespherical form, and varying their shapes again by delicate expansions. Iwas not deceived then, it was a torpid man that I had under my eyes, andnot a dead one!

I placed him on a pair of scales. He weighed one hundred and fortypounds, clothing included. I did not care to undress him, for I hadnoticed that animals desiccated directly in contact with the air, diedoftener than those which remained covered with moss and other softmaterials, during the ordeal of desiccation. 

My great air-pump, with its immense platform, its enormous ovalwrought-iron receiver, which a rope running on a pulley firmly fixed inthe ceiling easily raised and lowered by means of a windlass--all thesethousand and one contrivances which I had so laboriously prepared inspite of the railleries of those who envied me, and which I feltdesolate at seeing unemployed, were going to find their use! Unexpectedcircumstances had arisen at last to procure me such a subject forexperiment, as I had in vain endeavored to procure, while I wasattempting to reduce to torpidity dogs, rabbits, sheep and other mammalsby the aid of freezing mixtures. Long ago, without doubt, would theseresults have been attained if I had been aided by those who surroundedme, instead of being made the butt of their railleries; if ourauthorities had sustained me with their influence instead of treating meas a subversive spirit. 

I shut myself up _tête-à-tête_ with the Colonel, and took care that evenold Getchen, my housekeeper, now deceased, should not trouble me duringmy work. I had substituted for the wearisome lever of the old fashionedair-pumps, a wheel arranged with an eccentric which transformed thecircular movement of the axis into the rectilinear movement required bythe pistons: the wheel, the eccentric, the connecting rod, and thejoints of the apparatus all worked admirably, and enabled me to doeverything by myself. The cold did not impede the play of the machine, and the lubricating oil was not gummed: I had refined it myself by a newprocess founded on the then recent discoveries of the French _savant_ M. Chevreul. 

Having extended the body on the platform of the air-pump, lowered thereceiver and luted the rim, I undertook to submit it gradually to theinfluence of a dry vacuum and cold. Capsules filled with chloride ofcalcium were placed around the Colonel to absorb the water which shouldevaporate from the body, and to promote the desiccation. 

I certainly found myself in the best possible situation for subjectingthe human body to a process of gradual desiccation without suddeninterruption of the functions, or disorganization of the tissues orfluids. Seldom had my experiments on rotifers and tardigrades beensurrounded with equal chances of success, yet they had always succeeded. But the particular nature of the subject and the special scruplesimposed upon my conscience, obliged me to employ a certain number of newconditions, which I had long since, in other connections, foreseen theexpediency of. I had taken the pains to arrange an opening at each endof my oval receiver, and fit into it a heavy glass, which enabled me tofollow with my eye the effects of the vacuum on the Colonel. I wasentirely prevented from shutting the windows of my laboratory, from fearthat a too elevated temperature might put an end to the lethargy of thesubject, or induce some change in the fluids. If a thaw had come on, allwould have been over with my experiment. But the thermometer kept forseveral days between six and eight degrees below zero, and I was veryhappy in seeing the lethargic sleep continue, without having to fearcongelation of the tissues. 

I commenced to produce the vacuum with extreme slowness, for fear thatthe gases distributed through the blood, becoming free on account of thedifference of their tension from that of rarified air, might escape inthe vessels and so bring on immediate death. Moreover, I watched, everymoment, the effects of the vacuum on the intestinal gases, for byexpanding inside in proportion as the pressure of the air diminishedoutside of the body, they could have caused serious disorders. Thetissues might not have been entirely ruptured by them, but an internallesion would have been enough to occasion death in a few hours afterreanimation. One observes this quite frequently in animals carelesslydesiccated. 

Several times, too rapid a protrusion of the abdomen put me on my guardagainst the danger which I feared, and I was obliged to let in a littleair under the receiver. At last, the cessation of all phenomena of thiskind satisfied me that the gases had disappeared by exosmose or had beenexpelled by the spontaneous contraction of the viscera. It was not untilthe end of the first day that I could give up these minute precautions, and carry the vacuum a little further. 

The next day, the 13th, I pushed the vacuum to a point where thebarometer fell to five millimetres. As no change had taken place in theposition of the body or limbs, I was sure that no convulsion had beenproduced. The colonel had been desiccated, had become immobile, had lostthe power of performing the functions of life, without death havingsupervened, and without the possibility of returning to activity havingdeparted. His life was suspended, not extinguished. 

Each time that a surplus of watery vapor caused the barometer to ascend, I pumped. On the 14th, the door of my laboratory was literally broken inby the Russian General, Count Trollohub, who had been sent fromheadquarters. This distinguished officer had run in all haste toprevent the execution of the colonel and to conduct him into thepresence of the Commander in Chief. I loyally confessed to him what Ihad done under the inspiration of my conscience; I showed him the bodythrough one of the bull's-eyes of the air-pump; I told him that I washappy to have preserved a man who could furnish useful information tothe liberators of my country; and I offered to resuscitate him at my ownexpense if they would promise me to respect his life and liberty. TheGeneral, Count Trollohub, unquestionably a distinguished man, but one ofan exclusively military education, thought that I was not speakingseriously. He went out slamming the door in my face, and treating melike an old fool. 

I set myself to pumping again, and kept the vacuum at a pressure of fromthree to five millimetres for the space of three months. I knew byexperience that animals can revive after being submitted to a dry vacuumand cold for eighty days. 

On the 12th of February 1814, having observed that for a month nomodification had taken place in the shrinking of the flesh, I resolvedto submit the Colonel to another series of operations, in order toinsure more perfect preservation by complete desiccation. I let the airre-enter by the stop-cock arranged for the purpose, and, after raisingthe receiver, proceeded at once to my experiment. 

The body did not weigh more than forty-six pounds; I had then reduced itnearly to a third of its original weight. It should be borne in mindthat the clothing had not lost as much water as the other parts. Now thehuman body contains nearly four-fifths of its own weight of water, as isproved by a desiccation thoroughly made in a chemical drying furnace. 

I accordingly placed the Colonel on a tray, and, after sliding it intomy great furnace, gradually raised the temperature to 75 degrees, centigrade. I did not dare to go beyond this heat, from fear of alteringthe albumen and rendering it insoluble, and also of taking away from thetissues the capacity of reabsorbing the water necessary to a return totheir functions. 

I had taken care to arrange a convenient apparatus so that the furnacewas constantly traversed by a current of dry air. This air was dried intraversing a series of jars filled with sulphuric acid, quick-lime andchloride of calcium. 

After a week passed in the furnace, the general appearance of the bodyhad not changed, but its weight was reduced to forty pounds, clothingincluded. Eight days more brought no new decrease of weight. From this, I concluded that the desiccation was sufficient. I knew very well thatcorpses mummified in church vaults for a century or more, end byweighing no more than a half-score of pounds, but they do not become solight without a material alteration in their tissues. 

On the 27th of February, I myself placed the colonel in the boxes whichI had had made for his occupancy. Since that time, that is to say duringa space of nine years and eleven months, we have never been separated. Icarried him with me to Dantzic. He stays in my house. I have neverplaced him, according to his number, in my zoological collection; heremains by himself, in the chamber of honor. I do not grant any one thepleasure of re-using his chloride of calcium. I will take care of youtill my dying day, Oh Colonel Fougas, dear and unfortunate friend! But Ishall not have the joy of witnessing your resurrection. I shall notshare the delightful emotions of the warrior returning to life. Yourlachrymal glands, inert to-day, but some day to be reanimated, will notpour upon the bosom of your old benefactor, the sweet dew ofrecognition. For you will not recover your life until a day when minewill have long since departed! Perhaps you will be astonished that I, loving you as I do, should have so long delayed to draw you out of thisprofound slumber. Who knows but that some bitter reproach may come totaint the tenderness of the first offices of gratitude that you willperform over my tomb! Yes! I have prolonged, without any benefit to you, an experiment of general interest to others. I ought to have remainedfaithful to my first intention, and restored your life, immediatelyafter the signature of peace. But what! Was it well to send you back toFrance when the sun of your fatherland was obscured by our soldiers andallies? I have spared you that spectacle--one so grievous to such asoul as yours. Without doubt you would have had, in March, 1815, theconsolation of again seeing that fatal man to whom you had consecratedyour devotion; but are you entirely sure that you would not have beenswallowed up with his fortune, in the shipwreck of Waterloo?

For five or six years past, it has not been your welfare nor even thewelfare of science, that prevented me from reanimating you, it hasbeen. . . . Forgive me, Colonel, it has been a cowardly attachment to life. The disorder from which I am suffering, and which will soon carry meoff, is an aneurism of the heart; violent emotions are interdicted tome. If I were myself to undertake the grand operation whose process Ihave traced in a memorandum annexed to this instrument, I would, withoutany doubt, succumb before finishing it; my death would be an untowardaccident which might trouble my assistants and cause your resuscitationto fail. 

Rest content! You will not have long to wait, and, moreover, what do youlose by waiting? You do not grow old, you are always twenty-four yearsof age; your children are growing up, you will be almost theircontemporary when you come to life again. You came to Liebenfeld poor, you are now in my house poor, and my will makes you rich. That you maybe happy also, is my dearest wish. 

I direct that, the day after my death, my nephew, Nicholas Meiser, shall call together, by letter, the ten physicians most illustrious inthe kingdom of Prussia, that he shall read to them my will and theannexed memorandum, and that he shall cause them to proceed withoutdelay, in my own laboratory, to the resuscitation of Colonel Fougas. Theexpenses of travel, maintenance, etc. , etc. , shall be deducted from theassets of my estate. The sum of two thousand thalers shall be devoted tothe publication of the glorious results of the experiment, in German, French and Latin. A copy of this pamphlet shall be sent to each of thelearned societies then existing in Europe. 

In the entirely unexpected event of the efforts of science being unableto reanimate the Colonel, all my effects shall revert to NicholasMeiser, my sole surviving relative. 

JOHN MEISER, M. D. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

HOW NICHOLAS MEISER, NEPHEW OF JOHN MEISER, EXECUTED HIS UNCLE'S WILL. 

Doctor Hirtz of Berlin, who had copied this will himself, apologizedvery politely for not having sent it sooner. Business had obliged him totravel away from the Capital. In passing through Dantzic, he had givenhimself the pleasure of visiting Herr Nicholas Meiser, the formerbrewer, now a very wealthy land-owner and heavy holder of stocks, sixty-six years of age. This old man very well remembered the death andwill of his uncle, the _savant_; but he did not speak of them without acertain reluctance. Moreover, he said that immediately after the deceaseof John Meiser, he had called together ten physicians of Dantzic aroundthe mummy of the Colonel; he showed also a unanimous statement of thesegentlemen, affirming that a man desiccated in a furnace cannot in anyway or by any means return to life. This certificate, drawn up by theprofessional competitors and enemies of the deceased, made no mention ofthe paper annexed to the will. Nicholas Meiser swore by all the Gods(but not without visibly coloring) that this document concerning themethods to be pursued in resuscitating the Colonel, had never been knownby himself or his wife. When interrogated regarding the reasons whichcould have brought him to part with a trust as precious as the body ofM. Fougas, he said that he had kept it in his house fifteen years withevery imaginable respect and care, but that at the end of that time, becoming beset with visions and being awakened almost every night by theColonel's ghost coming and pulling at his feet, he concluded to sell itfor twenty crowns to a Berlin amateur. Since he had been rid of thisdismal neighbor, he had slept a great deal better, but not entirely wellyet; for it had been impossible for him to forget the apparition of theColonel. 

To these revelations, Herr Hirtz, physician to His Royal Highness thePrince Regent of Prussia, added some remarks of his own. He did notthink that the resuscitation of a healthy man, desiccated withprecaution, was impossible in theory; he thought also, that the processof desiccation indicated by the illustrious John Meiser was the best tofollow. But in the present case, it did not appear to him probable thatColonel Fougas could be called back to life; the atmospheric influencesand the variations of temperature which he had undergone during a periodof forty six years, must have altered the fluids and the tissues. 

This was also the opinion of M. Renault and his son. To quietClementine's excitement a little, they read to her the concludingparagraphs of Prof. Hirtz' letter. They kept from her John Meiser'swill, which could have done nothing but excite her. But the littleimagination worked on without cessation, do what they would to quiet it. Clementine now sought the company of Doctor Martout, she helddiscussions with him and wanted to see experiments in the resuscitationof rotifers. When she got home again, she would think a little aboutLeon and a great deal about the Colonel. The project of marriage wasstill entertained, but no one ventured to speak about the publication ofthe bans. To the most touching endearments of her betrothed, the youngfiancée responded with disquisitions on the vital principle. Her visitsto the Renaults' house were paid less to the living than to the dead. All the arguments they put in use to cure her of a foolish hope servedonly to throw her into a profound melancholy. Her beautiful complexiongrew pale, the brilliancy of her glance died away. Undermined by ahidden disorder, she lost the amiable vivacity which had appeared to bethe sparkling of youth and joy. The change must have been verynoticeable, for even Mlle. Sambucco, who had not a mother's eyes, wastroubled about it. 

M. Martout, satisfied that this malady of the spirit would not yield toany but a moral treatment, came to see her one morning, and said:

"My dear child, although I cannot well explain to myself the greatinterest that you take in this mummy, I have done something for it andfor you. I am going to send the little piece of ear that Leon broke offto M. Karl Nibor. "

Clementine opened all her eyes. 

"Don't you understand me?" continued the Doctor. "The thing is, to findout whether the humors and tissues of the Colonel have undergonematerial alterations. M. Nibor, with his microscope, will tell us thestate of things. One can rely upon him: he is an infallible genius. Hisanswer will tell us if it be well to proceed to the resuscitation of ourman, or whether nothing is left but to bury him. "

"What!" cried the young girl. "One can tell whether a man is dead orliving, by sample?"

"Nothing more is required by Doctor Nibor. Forget your anxieties, then, for a week. As soon as the answer comes, I will give it to you to read. I have stimulated the curiosity of the great physiologist: he knowsabsolutely nothing about the fragment I send him. But if, to suppose animpossibility, he tells us that the piece of ear belongs to a soundbeing, I will beg him to come to Fontainebleau and help us restore hislife. "

This vague glimmer of hope dissipated Clementine's melancholy, andbrought back her buoyant health. She again began to sing and laugh andflutter about the garden at her aunt's, and the house at M. Renault's. The tender communings began again, the wedding was once more talkedover, and the first ban was published. 

"At last, " said Leon, "I have found her again. "

But Madame Renault, that wise and cautious mother, shook her head sadly. 

"All this goes but half well, " said she. "I do not like to have mydaughter-in-law so absorbed with that handsome dried-up fellow. What arewe to expect when she knows that it is impossible to bring him to lifeagain? Will the black butterflies[1] then fly away? And suppose theyhappen, by a miracle, to reanimate him! are you sure she will not fallin love with him? Indeed, Leon must have thought it very necessary tobuy this mummy, and I call it money well invested!"

One Sunday morning M. Martout rushed in upon the old professor, shoutingvictory. 

Here is the answer which had come to him from Paris:--

 "My dear _confrère_:

 "I have received your letter, and the little fragment of tissue whose nature you asked me to determine. It did not cost me much trouble to find out the matter in question, I have done more difficult things twenty times, in the course of experiments relating to medical jurisprudence. You could have saved yourself the use of the established formula: "When you shall have made your microscopic examination, I will tell you what it is. " These little tricks amount to nothing: my microscope knows better than you do what you have sent me. You know the form and color of things: _it_ sees their inmost nature, the laws of their being, the conditions of their life and death. 

 "Your fragment of desiccated matter, half as broad as my nail and nearly as thick, after remaining for twenty-four hours under a bell-glass in an atmosphere saturated with water at the temperature of the human body, became supple--so much so as to be a little elastic. I could consequently dissect it, study it like a piece of fresh flesh, and put under the microscope each one of its parts that appeared different, in consistency or color, from the rest. 

 "I at once found, in the middle, a slight portion harder and more elastic than the rest, which presented the texture and cellular structure of cartilage. This was neither the cartilage of the nose, nor the cartilage of an articulation, but certainly the fibro-cartilage of the ear. You sent me, then, the end of an ear, and it is not the lower end--the lobe which women pierce to put their gold ornaments in, but the upper end, into which the cartilage extends. 

 "On the inner-side, I took off a fine skin, in which the microscope showed me an epidermis, delicate, perfectly intact; a derma no less intact, with little papillæ and, moreover, covered with a lot of fine human hairs. Each of these little hairs had its root imbedded in its follicle, and the follicle accompanied by its two little glands. I will tell you even more: these hairs of down were from four to five millimetres long, by from three to five hundredths of a millimetre in diameter; this is twice the size of the pretty down which grows on a feminine ear; from which I conclude that your piece of ear belongs to a man. 

 "Against the curved edge of the cartilage, I found delicate striated bunches of the muscle of the helix, and so perfectly intact that one would have said there was nothing to prevent their contracting. Under the skin and near the muscles, I found several little nervous filaments, each one composed of eight or ten tubes in which the medulla was as intact and homogeneous as in nerves removed from a living animal or taken from an amputated limb. Are you satisfied? Do you cry mercy? Well! As for me, I am not yet at the end of my string. 

 "In the cellular tissue interposed between the cartilage and the skin, I found little arteries and little veins whose structure was perfectly cognizable. They contained some serum with red blood globules. These globules were all of them circular, biconcave and perfectly regular; they showed neither indentations nor that raspberry-like appearance which characterizes the blood globules of a corpse. 

 "To sum up, my dear _confrère_, I have found in this fragment nearly everything that is found in the human body--cartilage, muscle, nerve, skin, hairs, glands, blood, etc. , and all this in a perfectly healthy and normal state. It is not, then, a piece of a corpse which you sent me, but a piece of a living man, whose humors and tissues are in no way decomposed. 

 "With high consideration, yours, "KARL NIBOR. 

 "PARIS, _July 30th, 1859. _"

CHAPTER IX. 

CONSIDERABLE OF A DISTURBANCE IN FONTAINEBLEAU. 

It did not take long to get spread about the town that M. Martout andthe Messieurs Renault, intended, in conjunction with several Paris_savans_, to resuscitate a dead man. 

M. Martout had sent a detailed account of the case to the celebratedKarl Nibor, who had hastened to lay it before the Biological Society. Acommittee was forthwith appointed to accompany M. Nibor toFontainebleau. The six commissioners and the reporter agreed to leaveParis the 15th of August, [2] being glad to escape the din of the publicrejoicings. M. Martout was notified to get things ready for theexperiment, which would probably last not less than three days. 

Some of the Paris papers announced this great event among their"Miscellaneous Items, " but the public paid little attention to it. Thegrand reception of the army returning from Italy engrossed everybody'sinterest, and moreover, the French do not put more than moderate faithin miracles promised in the newspapers. 

But at Fontainebleau, it was an entirely different matter. Not onlyMonsieur Martout and the Messieurs Renault, but M. Audret, thearchitect, M. Bonnivet, the notary, and a dozen other of the bigwigs ofthe town, had seen and touched the mummy of the Colonel. They had spokenabout it to their friends, had described it to the best of theirability, and had recounted its history. Two or three copies of HerrMeiser's will were circulating from hand to hand. The question ofreanimations was the order of the day; they discussed it around thefish-pond, like the Academy of Sciences at a full meeting. Even in themarket-place you could have heard them talking about rotifers andtardigrades. 

It must be admitted that the resuscitationists were not in the majority. A few professors of the college, noted for the paradoxical character oftheir minds; a few lovers of the marvellous, who had been duly convictedof table-tipping; and, to top off with a half dozen of those oldwhite-moustached grumblers who believe that the death of Napoleon I. Isa calumnious lie set afloat by the English, constituted the whole of thearmy. M. Martout had against him not only the skeptics, but theinnumerable crowd of believers, in the bargain. One party turned him toridicule, the others proclaimed him revolutionary, dangerous, and anenemy of the fundamental ideas on which society rests. The minister ofone little church preached, in inuendoes, against the Prometheuses whoaspired to usurp the prerogatives of Heaven. But the rector of theparish did not hesitate to say, in five or six houses, that the cure ofa man as desperately sick as M. Fougas, would be an evidence of thepower and mercy of God. 

The garrison of Fontainebleau was at that time composed of foursquadrons of cuirassiers and the 23d regiment of the line, which haddistinguished itself at Magenta. As soon as it was known in ColonelFougas' old regiment that that illustrious officer was possibly going toreturn to the world, there was a general sensation. A regiment knows itshistory, and the history of the 23d had been that of Fougas fromFebruary, 1811, to November, 1813. All the soldiers had heard read, attheir messes, the following anecdote:

"On the 27th of August, 1813, at the battle of Dresden, the Emperornoticed a French regiment at the foot of a Russian redoubt which waspouring grape upon it. He asked what regiment it was, and was told thatit was the 23d of the line. 'That's impossible!' said he. 'The 23d ofthe line never stood under fire without rushing upon the artillerythundering at it. ' At that moment the 23d, led by Colonel Fougas, rushedup the height at double quick, pinned the artillerists to their guns, and took the redoubt. "

The officers and soldiers, justly proud of this memorable action, venerated, under the name of Fougas, one of the fathers of the regiment. The idea of seeing him appear in the midst of them, young and living, did not appear likely, but it was already something to be in possessionof his body. Officers and soldiers decided that he should be interred attheir expense, after the experiments of Doctor Martout were completed. And to give him a tomb worthy of his glory, they voted an assessment oftwo days' pay. 

Every one who wore an epaulette visited M. Renault's laboratory; theColonel of cuirassiers went there several times--in hopes of meetingClementine. But Leon's betrothed kept herself out of the way. 

She was happier than any woman had ever been, this pretty littleClementine. No cloud longer disturbed the serenity of her fair brow. Free from all anxieties, with a heart opened to Hope, she adored herdear Leon, and passed her days in telling him so. She herself hadpressed the publication of the bans. 

"We will be married, " said she, "the day after the resuscitation of theColonel. I intend that he shall give me away, I want him to bless me. That is certainly the least he can do for me, after all I have done forhim. It is certain that, but for my opposition, you would have sent himto the museum of the _Jardin des Plantes_. I will tell him all this, Sir, as soon as he can understand us, and he will cut _your_ ears off, in _his_ turn! I love you!"

"But, " answered Leon, "why do you make my happiness dependent on thesuccess of an experiment? All the usual formalities are executed, thepublications made, the notices given: no one in the world can preventour marrying to-morrow, and you are pleased to wait until the 19th! Whatconnection is there between us and this desiccated gentleman asleep inhis box? He doesn't belong to your family or mine. I have examined allyour family records back to the sixth generation, and I haven't foundanybody of the name of Fougas in them. So we are not waiting for agrandfather to be present at the ceremony. Who is he, then? The wickedtongues of Fontainebleau pretend that you have a _penchant_ for thisfetich of 1813; as for me, who am sure of your heart, I trust that youwill never love any one as well as me. However they call me the rival ofthe Sleeping Colonel in the Wood. "

"Let the fools prate!" responded Clementine, with an angelic smile. "Ido not trouble myself to explain my affection for poor Fougas, but Ilove him very much, that's certain. I love him as a father, as abrother, if you prefer it, for he is almost as young as I. When we haveresuscitated him, I will love him, perhaps, as a son; but you will losenothing by it, dear Leon. You have in my heart a place by itself, thebest too, and no one shall take it from you, not even _he_. "

This lovers' quarrel, which often began, and always ended with a kiss, was one day interrupted by a visit from the commissioner of police. 

This honorable functionary politely declined to give his name andbusiness, and requested the favor of a private interview with youngRenault. 

"Monsieur, " said he, when he saw him alone, "I appreciate all theconsideration due to a man of your character and position, and I hopeyou will see fit not to interpret unpleasantly a proceeding which isprompted in me by a sense of duty. "

Leon opened his eyes and waited for the continuation of the discourse. 

"You are aware, Monsieur, " pursued the Commissioner, "of what isrequired by the law concerning interments. It is express, and admits noexception. The authorities can keep their eyes shut, but the greattumult that has arisen, and, moreover, the rank of the deceased, withouttaking into account the religious considerations, put us underobligation to proceed . . . In conjunction with you, let it be wellunderstood. . . . "

Leon comprehended little by little. The commissioner finished byexplaining to him, always in the administrative style, that it wasincumbent upon him to have M. Fougas taken to the town cemetery. 

"But Monsieur, " replied the engineer, "if you have heard people speakingof Colonel Fougas, they ought to have told you withal that we do notconsider him dead. "

"Nonsense!" answered the Commissioner, with a slight smile. "Opinionsare free. But the doctor whose office it is to attend to thedisposition of the dead, and who has had the pleasure of seeing thedeceased, has made us a conclusive report which points to immediateinterment. "

"Very well, Monsieur, if Fougas is dead, we are in hopes ofresuscitating him. "

"So we have been told already Monsieur, but, for my part, I hesitated tobelieve it. "

"You will believe it when you have seen it; and I hope, Monsieur, thatthat will be before long. "

"But then, Monsieur, have you fixed everything in due form?"

"With whom?"

"I do not know, Monsieur, but I suppose that before undertaking such athing as this, you have fortified yourself with some legalauthorization. "

"From whom?"

"But at all events, Monsieur, you admit that the reanimation of a man isan extraordinary affair. As for myself, this is really the first timethat I ever heard it spoken of. Now the duty of a well regulated police, is to prevent anything extraordinary happening in the country. "

"Let us see, Monsieur. If I were to say to you: 'Here is a man who isnot dead; I have a well-founded hope of setting him on his feet in threedays; your doctor, who maintains the contrary, deceives himself, ' wouldyou take the responsibility of having Fougas buried?"

"Certainly not! God forbid that I should take any responsibility of anykind on my shoulders! But however, Monsieur, in having M. Fougas buried, I would act in accordance with law and order. Now after all, by whatright do you presume to resuscitate a man? In what country isresuscitation customary? Where is the precept of law which authorizesyou to resuscitate people?"

"Do you know any law that prohibits it? Now everything that is notprohibited is permitted. "

"In the eyes of the magistrates, very likely. But the police ought toprevent and stem disorder. Now a resuscitation, Monsieur, is a thing sounheard of as to constitute an actual disorder. "

"You will admit, nevertheless, that it is a very happy disorder. "

"There's no such thing as a happy disorder. Consider, morever, that thedeceased is not a common sort of a man. If the question concerned avagabond without house or home, one could use some tolerance in regardto it. But this is a soldier, an officer, of high rank and decoratedtoo; a man who has occupied an exalted position in the army. The _army_, Monsieur! It will not do to touch the army!"

"Eh! Monsieur, I touch the army like a surgeon who tends its wounds. Itis proposed to restore to the army a colonel. And you, actuated by thespirit of routine, wish to rob it of one. "

"Don't get so excited, Monsieur, I beg of you, and don't talk so loud:people can hear us. Believe me, I will meet you half way in anything youwant to do for the great and glorious army of my country. But have youconsidered the religious question?"

"What religious question?"

"To tell you the truth, Monsieur (but this entirely between ourselves), what we have spoken of so far is purely accessory and we are nowtouching upon the delicate point. People have come to see me and havemade some very judicious remarks to me. The mere announcement of yourproject has cast a good deal of trouble into certain consciences. Theyfear that the success of an undertaking of this kind may strike a blowat the faith, may, in a word, scandalize many tranquil spirits. For, ifM. Fougas is dead, of course it is because God has so willed it. Aren'tyou afraid of acting contrary to the will of God, in resuscitating him?"

"No, Monsieur: for I am sure not to resuscitate Fougas if God has willedit otherwise; God permits a man to catch the fever, but God also permitsa doctor to cure him. God permitted a brave soldier of the Emperor to becaptured by four drunken Russians, condemned as a spy, frozen in afortress and desiccated under an air-pump by an old German. But God alsopermitted me to find this unfortunate man in a junk-shop, to carry himto Fontainebleau, to examine him with certain men of science and toagree with them upon a method almost sure to restore him to life. Allthis proves one thing--which is that God is more just, more merciful andmore inclined to pity than those who abuse his name in order to exciteyou. "

"I assure you, Monsieur, that I am not in the least excited. I yield toyour reasons because they are good ones and because you are a man ofconsideration in the community. I sincerely hope, moreover, that youwill not think harshly of an act of zeal which I have been advised toperform. I am a functionary, Monsieur. Now, what is a functionary? A manwho holds a place. Suppose now that functionaries were to exposethemselves to the loss of their places, what would stand firm in France?Nothing, Monsieur, absolutely nothing. I have the honor to bid you goodday!"

On the morning of the 15th of August, M. Karl Nibor presented himself atM. Renault's with Doctor Martont and the committee appointed by theBiological Society of Paris. As often happens in the rural districts thefirst appearance of our illustrious savant was a sort of disappointment. Mme. Renault expected to see, if not a magician in a velvet robe studdedwith gold, at least an old man of extraordinarily grave and impressiveappearance. Karl Nibor is a man of middle height, very fair and veryslight. Possibly he carries a good forty years, but one would not credithim with more than thirty-five. He wears a moustache and imperial; islively, a good conversationist, agreeable and enough of a man of theworld to amuse the ladies. But Clementine did not have the pleasure ofhis conversation. Her aunt had taken her to Moret in order to remove herfrom the pangs of fear as well as from the intoxications of victory. 

CHAPTER X. 

HALLELUJAH!

M. Nibor and his colleagues, after the usual compliments, requested tosee the subject. They had no time to lose, as the experiment couldhardly last less than three days. Leon hastened to conduct them to thelaboratory and to open the three boxes containing the Colonel. 

They found that the patient presented quite a favorable appearance. M. Nibor took off his clothes, which tore like tinder from having been toomuch dried in Father Meiser's furnace. The body, when naked, waspronounced entirely free from blemish and in a perfectly healthycondition. No one would yet have guaranteed success, but every one wasfull of hope. 

After this preliminary examination, M. Renault put his laboratory at theservice of his guests. He offered them all that he possessed, with amunificence which was not entirely free from vanity. In case theemployment of electricity should appear necessary, he had a powerfulbattery of Leyden jars and forty of Bunsen's elements, which wereentirely new. M. Nibor thanked him smilingly. 

"Save your riches, " said he. "With a bath-tub and caldron of boilingwater, we will have everything we need. The Colonel needs nothing buthumidity. The thing is to give him the quantity of water necessary tothe play of the organs. If you have a small room where one can introducea jet of vapor, we will be more than content. "

M. Audret, the architect, had very wisely built a little bath-room nearthe laboratory, which was convenient and well lighted. The celebratedsteam engine was not far off, and its boiler had not, up to this time, answered any other purpose than that of warming the baths of M. And Mme. Renault. 

The Colonel was carried into this room, with all the care necessitatedby his fragility. It was not intended to break his second ear in thehurry of moving. Leon ran to light the fire under the boiler, and M. Nibor created him Fireman, on the field of battle. 

Soon a jet of tepid vapor streamed into the bath-room, creating aroundthe Colonel a humid atmosphere which was elevated by degrees, andwithout any sudden increase, to the temperature of the human body. Theseconditions of heat and humidity were maintained with the greatest carefor twenty-four hours. No one in the house went to sleep. The members ofthe Parisian Committee encamped in the laboratory. Leon kept up thefire; M. Nibor, M. Renault and M. Martout took turns in watching thethermometer. Madame Renault was making tea and coffee, and punch too. Gothon, who had taken communion in the morning, kept praying to God, inthe corner of her kitchen, that this impious miracle might not succeed. A certain excitement already prevailed throughout the town, but one didnot know whether it should be attributed to the _fête_ of the 15th, orthe famous undertaking of the seven wise men of Paris. 

By two o'clock on the 16th, encouraging results were obtained. The skinand muscles had recovered nearly all their suppleness, but the jointswere still hard to bend. The collapsed condition of the walls of theabdomen and the interval between the ribs, still indicated that theviscera were far from having reabsorbed the quantity of water which theyhad previously lost with Herr Meiser. A bath was prepared and kept at atemperature of thirty-seven degrees and a half. [3] They left the Colonelin it two hours and a half, taking care to frequently pass over his heada fine sponge soaked with water. 

M. Nibor removed him from the bath as soon as the skin, which was filledout sooner than the other tissues, began to assume a whitish tinge andwrinkle slightly. They kept him until the evening of the 16th in thishumid room, where they arranged an apparatus which, from time to time, occasioned a fine rain of a temperature of thirty-seven and a halfdegrees. A new bath was given in the evening. During the night, thebody was enveloped in flannel, but kept constantly in the same steamingatmosphere. 

On the morning of the 17th, after a third bath of an hour and a half, the general characteristics of the figure and the proportions of thebody presented their natural aspect: one would have called it a sleepingman. Five or six curious persons were admitted to see it, among othersthe colonel of the 23d. In the presence of these witnesses, M. Nibormoved successively all the joints, and demonstrated that they hadrecovered their flexibility. He gently kneaded the limbs, trunk andabdomen. He partly opened the lips, and separated the jaws, which werequite firmly closed, and saw that the tongue had returned to itsordinary size and consistency. He also partly opened the eyelids: theeye-balls were firm and bright. 

"Gentlemen, " said the philosopher, "these are indications which do notdeceive; I prophesy success. In a few hours you shall witness the firstmanifestations of life. "

"But, " interrupted one of the bystanders, "why not immediately?"

"Because the _conjunctivæ_ are still a little paler than they ought tobe. But the little veins traversing the whites of the eyes have alreadyassumed a very encouraging appearance. The blood is almost entirelyrestored. What is the blood? Red globules floating in serum, or a sortof whey. The serum in poor Fougas was dried up in his veins; the waterwhich we have gradually introduced by a slow endosmose has saturated thealbumen and fibrin of the serum, which is returned to the liquid state. The red globules which desiccation had agglutinated, had becomemotionless like ships stranded in shoal water. Now behold them afloatagain: they thicken, swell, round out their edges, detach themselvesfrom each other and prepare to circulate in their proper channels at thefirst impulse which shall be given them by the contractions of theheart. "

"It remains to see, " said M. Renault, "whether the heart will put itselfin motion. In a living man, the heart moves under the impulse of thebrain, transmitted by the nerves. The brain acts under the impulse ofthe heart, transmitted by the arteries. The whole forms a perfectlyexact circle, without which there is no well-being. And when neitherheart nor brain acts, as in the Colonel's case, I don't see which of thetwo can set the other in motion. You remember the scene in the '_Ecoledes femmes_, ' where Arnolphe knocks at his door? The valet and the maid, Alain and Georgette, are both in the house. 'Georgette!' criesAlain. --'Well?' replies Georgette. --'Open the door down there!'--'Goyourself! Go yourself!'--'Gracious me! I shan't go!'--'I shan't goeither!'--'Open it right away!'--'Open it yourself!' And nobody opensit. I am inclined to think, Monsieur, that we are attending aperformance of this comedy. The house is the body of the Colonel;Arnolphe, who wants to get in, is the Vital Principle. The heart andbrain act the parts of Alain and Georgette. 'Open the door!' saysone. --'Open it yourself!' says the other. And the Vital Principle waitsoutside. "

"Monsieur, " replied Doctor Nibor smiling, "you forget the ending of thescene. Arnolphe gets angry, and cries out: 'Whichever of you two doesn'topen the door, shan't have anything to eat for four days!' And forthwithAlain hurries himself, Georgette runs and the door is opened. Now bearin mind that I speak in this way only in order to conform to your owncourse of reasoning, for the term 'Vital Principle' is at variance withthe actual assertions of science. Life will manifest itself as soon asthe brain, or the heart, or any one of the organs which have thecapacity of working spontaneously, shall have absorbed the quantity ofwater it needs. Organized matter has inherent properties which manifestthemselves without the assistance of any foreign principle, wheneverthey are surrounded by certain conditions. Why do not M. Fougas' musclescontract yet? Why does not the tissue of the brain enter into action?Because they have not yet the amount of moisture necessary to them. Inthe fountain of life there is lacking, perhaps, a pint of water. But Ishall be in no hurry to refill it: I am too much afraid of breaking it. Before giving this gallant fellow a final bath, it will be necessary toknead all his organs again, to subject his abdomen to regularcompressions, in order that the serous membranes of the stomach, chestand heart may be perfectly disagglutinated and capable of slipping oneach other. You are aware that the slightest tear in these parts, or theleast resistance, would be enough to kill our subject at the moment ofhis revival. "

While speaking, he united example to precept and kept kneading the trunkof the Colonel. As the spectators had too nearly filled the bath-room, making it almost impossible to move, M. Nibor begged them to move intothe laboratory. But the laboratory became so full that it was necessaryto leave it for the parlor: the Committee of the Biological Society, hadscarcely a corner of the table on which to draw up their account of theproceedings. The parlor even was crowded with people, the dining roomtoo, and so out to the court yard of the house. Friends, strangers, people not at all known to the family, elbowed each other and waited insilence. But the silence of a crowd is not much less noisy than therolling of the sea. Fat Doctor Martout, apparently overwhelmed withresponsibility, showed himself from time to time, and surged through thewaves of curious people like a galleon laden with news. Every one of hiswords circulated from mouth to mouth, and spread even through thestreet, where several groups of soldiers and citizens were making astir, in more senses than one. Never had the little "Rue de laFaisanderie" seen such a crowd. An astonished passer-by stopped andinquired:

"What's the matter here? Is it a funeral?"

"Quite the reverse, Sir. "

"A christening, then?"

"With warm water!"

"A birth?"

"A being born again!"

An old judge of the Civil Court was recounting to a deputy the legend ofÆson of old, who was boiled in Medea's caldron. 

"This is almost the same experiment, " said he, "and I am inclined tothink that the poets have calumniated the sorceress of Colchis. Therecould be some fine Latin verses made appropriate to this occasion; but Ino longer possess my old skill!

 'Fabula Medeam cur crimine carpit iniquo? Ecce novus surgit redivivus Æson ab undis Fortior, arma petens, juvenili pectore miles . . . , '

"Redivivus is taken in the active sense; it's a license, or at least abold construction. Ah! Monsieur! there was a time when I was, even amongthose who made the most confident attempts, _the_ man for Latin verses!"

 * * * * *

"Corp'ral!" said a conscript of the levy of 1859. 

"What is it, Freminot?"

"Is it true that they are boiling an old soldier in a pot, and that theyare going to get him up again, Colonel's uniform and all?"

"True or not, subaltern, I'll run the risk of saying it's true. "

"I fancy, with all proper deference, that they will not make much atit. "

"You should know, Freminot, that nothing is impossible to yoursuperiors! You are not unaware even now, that dried vegetables, on beingboiled, recover their original and natural appearance!"

"But, Corp'ral, if one were to cook them, three days' time, they'ddissolve into broth. "

"But, imbecile, why shouldn't one consider old soldiers hard to cook?"

At noon, the commisioner of police and the lieutenant of _gens-d'armes_made way through the crowd and entered the house. These gentlemenhastened to declare to M. Renault that their visit had nothing of anofficial character, but that they had come merely from curiosity. In thecorridor, they met the Sub-prefect, the Mayor and Gothon, who waslamenting in loud tones that she should see the government lend its handto such sorceries. 

About one o'clock, M. Nibor caused a new and prolonged bath to be giventhe Colonel, on coming out of which, the body was subjected to akneading harder and more complete than before. 

"Now, " said the Doctor, "we can carry M. Fougas into the laboratory, inorder to give his resuscitation all the publicity desirable. But it willbe well to dress him, and his uniform is in tatters. "

"I think, " answered good M. Renault, "that the Colonel is about my size;so I can lend him some of my clothes. Heaven grant that he may usethem! But, between us, I don't hope for it. "

Gothon brought in, grumbling, all that was necessary to dress anentirely naked man. But her bad humor did not hold out before the beautyof the Colonel:

"Poor gentleman!" she exclaimed, "he is young, fresh and fair as alittle chicken. If he doesn't revive, it will be a great pity!"

There were about forty people in the laboratory when Fougas was carriedthither. M. Nibor, assisted by M. Martout, placed him on a sofa, andbegged a few moments of attentive silence. During these proceedings, Mme. Renault sent to inquire if she could come in. She was admitted. 

"Madame and gentlemen, " said Dr. Nibor, "life will manifest itself in afew minutes. It is possible that the muscles will act first, and thattheir action may be convulsive, on account of not yet being regulated bythe influence of the nervous system. I ought to apprise you of thisfact, in order that you may not be frightened if such a thingtranspires. Madame, being a mother, ought to be less astonished at itthan any one else; she has experienced, at the fourth month ofpregnancy, the effect of those irregular movements which will, possibly, soon be presented to us on a larger scale. I am quite hopeful, however, that the first spontaneous contractions will take place in the fibres ofthe heart. Such is the case in the embryo, where the rhythmic movementsof the heart, precede the nervous functions. "

He again began making systematic compressions of the lower part of thechest, rubbing the skin with his hands, half opening the eyelids, examining the pulse, and auscultating the region of the heart. 

The attention of the spectators was diverted an instant by a hubbuboutside. A battalion of the 23d was passing, with music at the head, through the Rue de la Faisanderie. While the Sax-horns were shaking thewindows, a sudden flash mantled on the cheeks of the Colonel. His eyes, which had stood half open, lit up with a brighter sparkle. At the sameinstant, Doctor Nibor, who had his ear applied to the chest, cried:

"I hear the beatings of the heart!"

Scarcely had he spoken, when the chest rose with a violent inspiration, the limbs contracted, the body straightened up, and out came a cry:"_Vive l'Empereur_. "

But as if so great an effort had overtasked his strength, Colonel Fougasfell back on the sofa, murmuring in a subdued voice:

"Where am I? Waiter! Bring me a newspaper!"

CHAPTER XI. 

WHEREIN COLONEL FOUGAS LEARNS SOME NEWS WHICH WILL APPEAR OLD TO MYREADERS. 

Among all the persons present at this scene, there was not a single onewho had ever seen a resuscitation. I leave you to imagine the surpriseand joy which reigned in the laboratory. A triple round of applause, mingled with cheers, hailed the triumph of Doctor Nibor. The crowd, packed in the parlor, the passages, the court-yard, and even in thestreet, understood at this signal, that the miracle was accomplished. Nothing could hold them back, they forced the doors, cleared allobstacles, upset all the philosophers who tried to stop them, andfinished by pouring into the chamber of Science. 

"Gentlemen!" cried M. Nibor, "Do you want to kill him?"

But they let him talk. The wildest of all passions, curiosity, had longheld dominion over the crowd: every one wanted to see, though at therisk of crushing the others. M. Nibor tumbled down, M. Renault and hisson, in attempting to help him, were thrown on top of him; MadameRenault, in her turn, was thrown down at the feet of Fougas, and beganscreaming at the top of her voice. 

"Damnation!" said Fougas, straightening himself up as if by a spring, "these scoundrels will suffocate us if some one doesn't squelch them!"His attitude, the glare of his eyes, and, above all, the prestige of themiraculous, cleared a space around him. One would have thought that thewalls had been stretched or that the spectators had slid into oneanother!

"Out of here, every mother's son of you!" cried Fougas, in his fiercesttone of command. A tumult of cries, explanations, and remonstrances wasraised around him; he fancied he heard menaces, he seized the firstchair within reach, brandished it like a weapon, drove, hammered, upsetthe citizens, soldiers, officials, _savants_, friends, sight-seers, commissary of police--everybody, and urged the human torrent into thestreet with an uproar perfectly indescribable. This done, he shut thedoor and bolted it, returned to the laboratory, saw three men standingnear Madame Renault, and said to the old lady, softening the tone of hisvoice:

"Well, good mother, shall I serve these three like the others?"

"No! No! No! Be careful!" cried the good old lady. "My husband and myson, Monsieur, and Doctor Nibor, who has restored you to life. "

"In that case all honor to them, good mother! Fougas has never violatedthe laws of gratitude and hospitality. As for you, my Esculapius, giveme your hand!"

At the same instant, he noticed ten or a dozen inquisitive people ontiptoe on the pavement just by the windows of the laboratory. Forthwithhe marched and opened them with a precipitation which upset the gazersamong the crowd. 

"People, " said he, "I have knocked down a hundred beggarly pandours whorespect neither sex nor infirmity. For the benefit of those who are notsatisfied, I will state that I call myself colonel Fougas of the 23d. And _Vive l'Empereur!_"

A confused mixture of plaudits, cries, laughs, and jeers, answered thisunprecedented allocution. Leon Renault hastened out to make apologies toall to whom they were due. He invited a few friends to dine the sameevening with the terrible colonel, and, of course, he did not forget tosend a special messenger to Clementine. Fougas, after speaking to thepeople, returned to his hosts, swinging himself along with a swaggeringair, set himself astride a chair, took hold of the ends of hismoustache, and said:

"Well! Come, let's talk this over. I've been sick then?"

"Very sick. "

"That's fabulous! I feel entirely well. I'm hungry, and, moreover, whilewaiting for dinner, I'll even try a glass of your schnick. "

Mme. Renault went out, gave an order, and returned in an instant. 

"But tell me, then, where I am, " resumed the colonel. "By theseparaphernalia of work, I recognize a disciple of Urania; possibly afriend of Monge and Berthollet. But the cordial friendliness impressedon your countenances proves to me that you are not natives of this landof sour-krout. Yes, I believe it from the beatings of my heart. Friends, we have the same fatherland. The kindness of your reception, even werethere no other indications, would have satisfied me that you are French. What accidents have brought you so far from our native soil? Children ofmy country, what tempest has thrown you upon this inhospitable shore?"

"My dear Colonel, " replied M. Nibor, "if you want to become very wise, you will not ask so many questions at once. Allow us the pleasure ofinstructing you quietly and in order, for you have a great many thingsto learn. "

The Colonel flushed with anger, and answered sharply:

"At all events, you are not the man to teach them to me, my littlegentleman!"

A drop of blood which fell on his hand changed the current of histhoughts:

"Hold on!" said he; "am I bleeding?"

"That will amount to nothing; circulation is reëstablished, and yourbroken ear. . . . "

He quickly carried his hand to his ear and said:

"It's certainly so. But Devil take me if I recollect this accident!"

"I'll make you a little dressing, and in a couple of days there will beno trace of it left!"

"Don't give yourself the trouble, my dear Hippocrates; a pinch of powderis a sovereign cure!"

M. Nibor set to work to dress the ear in a little less military fashion. During his operations, Leon reëntered. 

"Ah! ah!" said he to the Doctor, "you are repairing the harm I did. "

"Thunderation!" cried Fougas, escaping from the hands of M. Nibor so asto seize Leon by the collar, "was it you, you rascal, that hurt my ear?"

Leon was very good-natured, but his patience failed him. He pushed hisman roughly aside. 

"Yes, sir, it was I who tore your ear, in pulling it, and if that littlemisfortune had not happened to me, it is certain that you would havebeen, to-day, six feet under ground. It is I who saved your life, afterbuying you with my money when you were not valued at more thantwenty-five louis. It is I who have passed three days and two nights incramming charcoal under your boiler. It is my father who gave you theclothes you now have on. You are in our house. Drink the little glass ofbrandy Gothon just brought you; but for God's sake give up the habit ofcalling me rascal, of calling my mother 'Good Mother. ' and of flingingour friends into the street and calling them beggarly pandours!"

The colonel, all dumbfounded, held out his hand to Leon, M. Renault andthe doctor, gallantly kissed the hand of Mme. Renault, swallowed at agulp a claret glass filled to the brim with brandy, and said in asubdued voice:

"Most excellent friends, forget the vagaries of an impulsive butgenerous soul. To subdue my passions shall hereafter be my law. Afterconquering all the nations in the universe, it is well to conquer one'sself. "

This said, he submitted his ear to M. Nibor, who finished dressing it. 

"But, " said he, summoning up his recollections, "they did not shoot methen?"

"No. "

"And I wasn't frozen to death in the tower?"

"Not quite. "

"Why has my uniform been taken off? I see! I am a prisoner!"

"You are free. "

"Free! _Vive l'Empereur!_ But then, there's not a moment to lose! Howmany leagues is it to Dantzic?"

"It's very far. "

"What do you call this chicken coop of a town?"

"Fontainebleau. "

"Fontainebleau! In France?"

"Prefecture of Seine-et-Marne. We are going to introduce to you thesub-prefect, whom you just pitched into the street. "

"What the Devil are your sub-prefects to me? I have a message from theEmperor for General Rapp, and I must start, this very day, for Dantzic. God knows whether I'll be there in time!"

"My poor Colonel, you will arrive too late. Dantzic is given up. "

"That's impossible! Since when?"

"About forty-six years ago. "

"Thunder! I did not understand that you were . . . Mocking me!"

M. Nibor placed in his hand a calendar, and said: "See for yourself! Itis now the 17th of August, 1859; you went to sleep in the tower ofLiebenfeld on the 11th of November, 1813; there have been, then, forty-six years, all to three months, during which the world has movedon without you. "

"Twenty-four and forty-six; but then I would be seventy years old, according to your statement!"

"Your vitality clearly shows that you are still twenty-four. "

He shrugged his shoulders, tore up the calendar and said, beating thefloor with his foot: "Your almanac is a humbug!"

M. Renault ran to his library, took up half a dozen books at haphazardand made him read, at the foot of the title pages, the dates 1826, 1833, 1847, 1858. 

"Pardon me!" said Fougas, burying his head in his hands. "What hashappened to me is so new! I do not think that another human being wasever subjected to such a trial. I am seventy years old!"

Good Madame Renault went and got a looking-glass from the bath room, andgave it to him, saying:

"Look!"

He took the glass in both hands, and was silently occupied in resumingacquaintance with himself, when a hand-organ came into the court andbegan playing "Partant pour la Syrie!"

Fougas threw the mirror to the ground, and cried out:

"What is that you were telling me? I hear the little song of QueenHortense!"[4]

M. Renault patiently explained to him, while picking up the pieces ofthe mirror, that the pretty little song of Queen Hortense had become anational air, and even an official one, since the regimental bands hadsubstituted that gentle melody for the fierce Marsellaise, and that oursoldiers, strange to say, had not fought any the worse for it. But theColonel had already opened the window, and was crying out to theSavoyard:

"Eh! Friend! A napoleon for you if you will tell me in what year I amdrawing the breath of life!"

The artist began dancing as lightly as possible playing on his musicalinstrument. 

"Advance at the order!" cried the Colonel, "and keep that devilishmachine still!"

"A little penny, my good monsieur!"

"It is not a penny that I'll give you, but a napoleon, if you'll tell mewhat year it is. "

"Oh but that's funny! Hi--hi--hi!"

"And if you don't tell me quicker than this amounts to, I'll cut yourears off!"

The Savoyard ran away, but he came back pretty soon, having meditated, during his flight, on the maxim: "Nothing risk nothing gain. "

"Monsieur, " said he, in a wheedling voice, "this is the year EighteenHundred and Fifty-nine. "

"Good!" cried Fougas. He felt in his pockets for money, and foundnothing there. Leon saw his predicament, and flung twenty francs intothe court. Before shutting the window, he pointed out, to the right, thefaçade of a pretty little new building where the Colonel coulddistinctly read

 AUDRET ARCHITECTE. 

 MDCCCLIX. 

A perfectly satisfactory piece of evidence, and one which did not costtwenty francs. 

Fougas, a little confused, pressed Leon's hand, and said to him:

"My friend, I do not forget that Confidence is the first duty fromGratitude toward Beneficence. But tell me of our country! I tread thesacred soil where I received my being, and I am ignorant of the careerof my native land. France is still the queen of the world, is she not?"

"Certainly, " said Leon. 

"How is the Emperor?"

"Well. "

"And the Empress?"

"Very well. "

"And the King of Rome?"

"The Prince Imperial? He is a very fine child. "

"How? A fine child! And you have the face to say that this is 1859!"

M. Nibor took up the conversation, and explained in a few words that thereigning sovereign of France was not Napoleon I. , but Napoleon III. 

"But then, " cried Fougas, "my Emperor is dead!"

"Yes. "

"Impossible! Tell me anything you will but that! My Emperor isimmortal. "

M. Nibor and the Renaults, who were not quite professional historians, were obliged to give him a summary of the history of our century. Someone went after a big book written by M. De Norvins and illustrated withfine engravings by Raffet. He only believed in the presence of Truthwhen he could touch her with his hand, and still cried out almost everymoment: "That's impossible! This is not history that you are reading tome: it is a romance written to make soldiers weep!"

This young man must indeed have had a strong and well-tempered soul, forhe learned in forty minutes all the woful events which Fortune hadscattered through eighteen years, from the first abdication up to thedeath of the King of Rome. Less happy than his old companions in arms, he had no interval of repose between these terrible and repeatedshocks, all beating upon his heart at the same time. One could havefeared that the blow might prove mortal, and poor Fougas die in thefirst hour of his recovered life. But the imp of a fellow yielded andrecovered himself in quick succession like a spring. He cried out withadmiration on hearing of the five battles of the campaign in France; hereddened with grief at the farewells of Fontainebleau. The return fromthe Isle of Elba transfigured his handsome and noble countenance; atWaterloo his heart rushed in with the last army of the Empire, and thereshattered itself. Then he clenched his fists and said between his teeth:"If I had been there at the head of the 23d, Blucher and Wellingtonwould have seen another fate!" The invasion, the truce, the martyr ofSt. Helena, the ghastly terror of Europe, the murder of Murat--the idolof the cavalry, the death of Ney, Bruno, Mouton Duvernet, and so manyother whole-souled men whom he had known, admired, and loved, threw himinto a series of paroxysms of rage, but nothing upset him. In hearing ofthe death of Napoleon, he swore that he would eat the heart of England;the slow agony of the pale and interesting heir of the Empire, inspiredhim with a passion to tear the vitals out of Austria. When the drama wasover and the curtain fell on Schoenbrunn, he dashed away his tears andsaid: "It is well. I have lived in a moment a man's entire life. Nowshow me the map of France!"

Leon began to turn over the leaves of an atlas, while M. Renaultattempted to continue narrating to the colonel the history of theRestoration, and of the monarchy of 1830. But Fougas' interest was inother things. 

"What do I care, " said he, "if a couple of hundred babblers of deputiesput one king in place of another? Kings! I've seen enough of them in thedirt. If the Empire had lasted ten years longer, I could have had a kingfor a boot-black. "

When the atlas was placed before him, he at once cried out with profounddisdain: "That, France!" But soon two tears of pitying affectionescaping from his eyes, swelled the rivers Ardeche and Gironde. Hekissed the map and said, with an emotion which communicated itself tonearly all present:

"Forgive me, poor old love, for insulting your misfortunes. Thosescoundrels whom we always whipped have profited by my sleep to pare downyour frontiers; but little or great, rich or poor, you are my mother, and I love you as a faithful son! Here is Corsica, where the giant ofour age was born; here is Toulouse, where I first saw the light; here isNancy where I felt my heart awakened, where, perhaps, she whom I call myÆgle waits for me still! France! Thou hast a temple in my soul; this armis thine; thou shalt find me ever ready to shed my blood to the lastdrop in defending or avenging thee!"

CHAPTER XII. 

THE CONVALESCENT'S FIRST MEAL. 

The messenger whom Leon had sent to Moret, could not reach there beforeseven o'clock. Supposing that he would find the ladies at table withtheir hosts, that the great news would cut the dinner short, and thatthere would be a carriage handy, Clementine and her aunt would probablybe at Fontainebleau between ten and eleven o'clock. Young Renaultrejoiced in advance over the happiness of his _fiancée_. What a joy itwould be for her and for him when he should present to her themiraculous man whom she had protected against the horrors of the tomb, and whom he had resuscitated in answer to her entreaty!

Meanwhile Gothon, proud and happy to the same degree that she had beforebeen scandalized and annoyed, spread the table for a dozen persons. Heryoke-fellow, a young rustic of eighteen, half-fledged in the commune ofSablons, helped her with all his might, and amused her with hisconversation. 

"Well, now, Ma'm'selle Gothon, " said he, setting down a pile of emptyplates, "this is what one might call a ghost coming out of its box toupset the commissary and the sub-prefect!"

"Ghost, if you'll have it so, Célestin; it's certain-sure that he comesfrom a good ways, poor young man! But perhaps 'ghost' isn't a properword to use in speaking of our masters. "

"Is it true, then, that he has come to be our master too? Too many of_them_ come every day. I'd like it better if more servants and helpwould come!"

"Shut up, you lizard of laziness! When the gentlemen leaves tips for uson going away, you don't complain because there's only two to divide'em. "

"That's all well enough as far as it goes! I've carried more than fiftybuckets of water for him to simmer in, that Colonel of yours, and I knowmighty well that he won't give me a cent, for he hasn't a farthing inhis pockets. We've got to believe that money isn't plenty in the countryhe just came from!"

"They say there's wills in his favor in Strasburg; a gentleman who'dhurt his fortune----"

"Tell me now, Ma'm'selle Gothon--you who read a little book everySunday--where he could have been, our Colonel, while he was not in thisworld. "

"Eh! In purgatory, of course!"

"Then why don't you ask him about that famous Baptiste, your sweetheartin 1837, who let himself tumble off a roof, and on whose account youhave so many masses said? They ought to have met each other down there!"

"That's very possible. "

"Unless Baptiste has left there since the time when you paid so muchmoney to get him out. "

"Very well. I'll go this very evening to the Colonel's chamber, and, since he's not proud, he'll tell me all he knows about it. --But, Célestin, are'nt you never going to act different? Here you've rubbed mysilver pickle knives on the grindstone again!"

The guests came into the parlor, where the Renault family with M. Niborand the Colonel were already assembled. There were successivelypresented to M. Fougas the mayor of the city, Doctor Martout, MasterBonnivet the notary, M. Audret, and three members of the Pariscommittee; the other three had been obliged to return before dinner. Theguests were not entirely at their ease; their sides, bruised by thefirst movements of Fougas, left room for them to suppose that possiblythey were dining with a maniac. But curiosity was stronger than fear. The Colonel soon reassured them by a most cordial reception. He excusedhimself for acting the part of a man just returned from the other world. He talked a great deal--a little too much, perhaps; but they were sowell pleased to listen to him, and his words borrowed such an importancefrom the singularity of recent events, that he gained an unqualifiedsuccess. He was told that Dr. Martout had been one of the principalagents of his resuscitation, in conjunction with another person whomthey promised soon to present to him. He thanked M. Martout warmly, andasked how soon he could evince his gratitude to the other person. 

"I hope, " said Leon, "that you will see her this evening. "

No one came later than the colonel of the 23d of the line, M. Rollon. Hemade his way with no little difficulty through the crowds of people whofilled the Rue de la Faisanderie. He was a man of forty-five, with aquick voice, and full figure. His hair was a little grizzled, but hisbrown mustache, full, and twisted at the ends, looked as young as ever. He said little, spoke to the point, knew a great deal, and did noboasting--all in all, he was a fine specimen of a colonel. He came rightup to Fougas, and held out his hand like an old acquaintance. 

"My dear comrade, " said he, "I have taken great interest in yourresurrection, as much on my own account as on account of the regiment. The 23d which I have the honor to command, yesterday venerated you as anancestor. From to-day, it will cherish you as a friend. "--Not theslightest allusion to the affair of the morning, in which M. Rollon hadundergone his pummelling with the rest. 

Fougas answered becomingly, but with, a tinge of coldness:

"My dear comrade, I thank you for your kindly sentiments. It is singularthat Destiny places me in the presence of my successor on the very daythat I reopen my eyes to the light; for, after all, I am neither deadnor a general; I have not been transferred, nor have I been retired; yetI see another officer, more worthy, doubtless, at the head of my noble23d. But if you have for your motto 'Honor and Courage, ' as I am wellsatisfied you have, I have no right to complain, and the regiment is ingood hands. "

Dinner was ready. Mme. Renault took Fougas' arm. She had him sit at herright, and M. Nibor at her left. The Colonel and the Mayor took theirplaces at the sides of M. Renault; the rest of the company distributedthemselves as it happened, regardless of etiquette. 

Fougas gulped down the soup and _entrées_, helping himself to everydish, and drinking in proportion. An appetite of the other world!"Estimable Amphitryon, " said he to M. Renault, "don't get frightened atseeing me fall upon the rations. I always ate just so; except during theretreat in Russia. Consider, too, that I went to sleep last night, atLiebenfeld, without any supper. "

He begged M. Nibor to explain to him by what course of circumstances hehad come from Liebenfeld to Fontainebleau. 

"Do you remember, " said the doctor, "an old German who acted asinterpreter for you before the court-martial?"

"Perfectly. An excellent man, with a violet-colored wig. I'll rememberhim all my life, for there are not two wigs of that color in existence. "

"Very well; it was the man with the violet wig, otherwise known as thecelebrated Doctor Meiser, who saved your life. "

"Where is he? I want to see him, to fall into his arms, to tell him----"

"He was sixty-eight years old when he did you that little service; hewould then be, to-day, in his hundred and fifteenth year, if he hadwaited for your acknowledgments. "

"And so, then, he is no more! Death has robbed him of my gratitude!"

"You do not yet know all that you owe to him. He bequeathed you, in1824, a fortune of seventy-five thousand francs, of which you are therightful owner. Now, since a sum invested at five per cent, doublesitself in fourteen years--thanks to compound interest--you were worth, in 1838, a trifle of seven hundred and fifty thousand francs; and in1852, a million and a half. In fine, if you are satisfied to leave yourproperty in the hands of Herr Nicholas Meiser, of Dantzic, that worthyman will owe you three millions at the commencement of 1866--that is tosay, in seven years. We will give you, this evening, a copy of yourbenefactor's will; it is a very instructive document, and you canconsider it when you go to bed. "

"I'll read it willingly, " said Colonel Fougas. "But gold has noattractions for my eyes. Wealth engenders weakness. Me, to languish inthe sluggish idleness of Sybaris!--to enervate my senses on a bed ofroses! Never! The smell of powder is dearer to me than all the perfumesof Arabia. Life would have no charm or zest for me, if I had to give upthe inspiriting clash of arms. On the day when you are told that Fougasno longer marches in the columns of the army, you can safely answer, 'Itis because Fougas is no more!'"

He turned to the new colonel of the 23d, and said:

"Oh! do you, my dear comrade, tell them that the proud pomp of wealth isa thousand times less sweet than the austere simplicity of thesoldier--of a colonel, more than all. Colonels are the kings of thearmy. A colonel is less than a general, but nevertheless he hassomething more. He lives more with the soldier; he penetrates furtherinto the intimacy of his command. He is the father, the judge, thefriend of his regiment. The welfare of each one of his men is in hishands; the flag is placed under his tent or in his chamber. The coloneland the flag are not two separate existences; one is the soul, the otheris the body. "

He asked M. Rollon's permission to go to see and embrace the flag of the23d. 

"You shall see it to-morrow morning, " said the new colonel, "if you willdo me the honor to breakfast with me in company with some of myofficers. "

He accepted the invitation with enthusiasm, and flung himself into themidst of a thousand questions touching pay, the amount retained forclothing, promotion, roster, reserve, uniform, full and fatigue dress, armament, and tactics. He understood, without difficulty, the advantagesof the percussion gun, but the attempt to explain rifled cannon to himwas in vain. Artillery was not his forte; but he avowed, nevertheless, that Napoleon had owed more than one victory to his fine artillery. 

While the innumerable roasts of Mme. Renault were succeeding each otheron the table, Fougas asked--but without ever losing a bite--what werethe principal wars in progress, how many nations France had on herhands, and if it was not intended ultimately to recommence the conquestof the world? The answers which he received, without completelysatisfying him, did not entirely deprive him of hope. 

"I did well to come, " said he; "there's work to do. "

The African wars did not interest him much, although in them the 23d hadwon a good share of glory. 

"As a school, it's very well, " said he. "The soldier ought to trainhimself in other ways than in the Tivoli gardens, behind nurses'petticoats. But why the devil are not five hundred thousand men flungupon the back of England? England is the soul of the coalition, I cantell you that. "

How many explanations were necessary to make him understand the Crimeanwar, where the English had fought by our sides!

"I can understand, " said he, "why we took a crack at the Russians--theymade me eat my best horse. But the English are a thousand times worse. If this young man" (the Emperor Napoleon III. ) "doesn't know it, I'lltell him. There is no quarter possible after what they did at St. Helena! If I had been commander-in-chief in the Crimea, I would havebegun by properly squelching the Russians, after which I would haveturned upon the English, and hurled them into the sea. It's theirelement, anyhow. "

They gave him some details of the Italian campaign, and he was charmedto learn that the 23d had taken a redoubt under the eyes of the Marshalthe Duke of Solferino. 

"That's the habit of the regiment, " said he, shedding tears in hisnapkin. "That brigand of a 23d will never act in any other way. Thegoddess of Victory has touched it with her wing. "

One of the things, for example, which greatly astonished him, was that awar of such importance was finished up in so short a time. He had yet tolearn that within a few years the world had learned the secret oftransporting a hundred thousand men, in four days, from one end ofEurope to the other. 

"Good!" said he; "I admit the practicability of it. But what astonishesme is, that the Emperor did not invent this affair in 1810; for he had agenius for transportation, a genius for administration, a genius foroffice details, a genius for everything. But (to resume your story) theAustrians are fortified at last, and you cannot possibly get to Viennain less than three months. "

"We did not go so far, in fact. "

"You did not push on to Vienna?"

"No. "

"Well, then, where did you sign the treaty of peace?"

"At Villafranca. "

"At Villafranca? That's the capital of Austria, then?"

"No; it's a village of Italy. "

"Monsieur, I don't admit that treaties of peace are signed anywhere butin capitals. That was our principle, our A B C, the first paragraph ofour theory. It seems as if the world must have changed a good deal whileI was not in it. But patience!"

And now truth obliges me to confess that Fougas got drunk at dessert. Hehad drunk and eaten like a Homeric hero, and talked more fluently thanCicero in his best days. The fumes of wine, spices, and eloquencemounted into his brain. He became familiar, spoke affectionately to someand rudely to others, and poured out a torrent of absurdities big enoughto turn forty mills. His drunkenness, however, had in it nothing brutal, or even ignoble; it was but the overflowing of a spirit young, affectionate, vain-glorious, and unbalanced. He proposed five or sixtoasts--to Glory, to the Extension of our Frontiers, to the Destructionof the last of the English, to Mlle. Mars--the hope of the Frenchstage, to Affection--the tie, fragile but dear, which unites the loverto his sweetheart, the father to his son, the colonel to his regiment!

His style, a singular mixture of familiarity and impressiveness, provoked more than one smile among the auditory. He noticed it, and aspark of defiance flashed up at the bottom of his heart. From time totime he loudly asked if "those people there" were not abusing hisingenuousness. 

"Confusion!" cried he, "Confusion to those who want me to take bladdersfor lanterns! The lantern may blaze out like a bomb, and carryconsternation in its path!"

After a series of such remarks, there was nothing left for him to do butto roll under the table, and this _dénoûement_ was generally expected. But the Colonel belonged to a robust generation, accustomed to more thanone kind of excess, and strong to resist pleasure as well as dangers, privations, and fatigues. So when Madame Renault pushed back her chair, in indication that the repast was finished, Fougas arose withoutdifficulty, gracefully offered his arm, and conducted his partner to theparlor. His gait was a little stiff and oppressively regular, but hewent straight ahead, and did not oscillate the least bit. He took acouple of cups of coffee, and spirits in moderation, after which hebegan to talk in the most reasonable manner in the world. About teno'clock, M. Martout, having expressed a wish to hear his history, heplaced himself on a stool, collected his ideas for a moment, and askedfor a glass of water and sugar. The company seated themselves in acircle around him, and he commenced the following narrative, theslightly antiquated style of which craves your indulgence. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

HISTORY OF COLONEL FOUGAS, RELATED BY HIMSELF. 

"Do not expect that I will ornament my story with those flowers, moreagreeable than substantial, which Imagination often uses to gloss overtruth. A Frenchman and a soldier, I doubly ignore deception. Friendshipinterrogates me, Frankness shall answer. 

"I was born of poor but honest parents at the beginning of the yearwhich the _Jeu de Paume_[5] brightened with an aurora of liberty. Thesouth was my native clime; the language dear to the troubadours was thatwhich I lisped in my cradle. My birth cost my mother's life. The authorof mine was the humble owner of a little farm, and moistened his breadin the sweat of labor. My first sports were not those of wealth. Themany-colored pebbles which are found by the brooks, and that well-knowninsect which childhood holds fluttering, free and captive at the sametime, at the end of a thread, stood me in stead of other playthings. 

"An old minister at Devotion's altar, enfranchised from the shadowybondage of fanaticism, and reconciled to the new institutions of France, was my Chiron and Mentor. He nourished me with the strong lion's marrowof Rome and Athens; his lips distilled into my ears the embalmed honeyof wisdom. Honor to thee, learned and venerable man, who gavest me thefirst precepts of wisdom and the first examples of virtue!

"But already that atmosphere of glory which the genius of one man andthe valor of a nation had set floating over the country, filled all mysenses, and made my young heart throb. France, on the edge of thevolcano of civil war, had collected all her forces into a thunderbolt tolaunch upon Europe, and the world, astounded if not overwhelmed, wasshrinking from the surge of the unchained torrent. What man, whatFrenchman, could have heard with indifference that echo of victoryreverberating through millions of hearts?

"While scarcely leaving childhood, I felt that honor is more preciousthan life. The warlike music of the drums brought to my eyes brave andmanly tears. 'And I, too, ' said I, following the music of the regimentsthrough the streets of Toulouse, 'will pluck laurels though I sprinklethem with my blood. ' The pale olive of peace had from me nothing butscorn. The peaceful triumphs of the law, the calm pleasures of commerceand finance, were extolled in vain. To the toga of our Ciceros, to therobe of our magistrates, to the curule chair of our legislators, to theopulence of our Mondors, I preferred the sword. One would have said thatI had sucked the milk of Bellona. 'Victory or Death!' was already mymotto, and I was not sixteen years old. 

"With what noble scorn I heard recounted the history of our Proteuses ofpolitics! With what disdainful glances I regarded the Turcarets offinance, lolling on the cushions of some magnificent carriage, andconducted by a laced automaton to the boudoir of some Aspasia. But if Iheard told the mighty deeds of the Knights of the Round Table, or thevalor of the crusaders celebrated in flowing verse; if chance placed inmy hand the great actions of our modern Rolands, recounted in an armybulletin by the successor of Charlemagne, a flame presaging the fire ofbattles rose in my young eyes. 

"Ah, the inaction was too much, and my leading-strings, already worn byimpatience, would have broken, perhaps, had not a father's wisdom untiedthem. 

"'Most surely, ' said he to me, trying, but in vain, to restrain histears, 'it was no tyrant who begot you, and I will not poison the lifewhich I myself gave you. I had hoped that your hand would remain in ourcottage to close my eyes; but when Patriotism has spoken, Egotism mustbe still. My prayers will always follow you to the field where Marsharvests heroes. May you merit the guerdon of valor, and show yourself agood citizen, as you have been a good son!'

"Speaking thus, he opened his arms to me. I threw myself into them; wemingled our tears, and I promised to return to our hearthstone as soonas I could bring the star of honor suspended from my breast. But alas!my unhappy father was destined to see me no more. The fate which wasalready gilding the thread of my days, pitilessly severed that of his. Astranger's hand closed his eyes, while I was gaining my first epauletteat the battle of Jena. 

"Lieutenant at Eylau, captain at Wagram, and there decorated by theEmperor's own hand on the field of battle, major before Almieda, lieutenant-colonel at Badajoz, colonel at Moscow, I have drunk the cupof victory to the full. But I have also tasted the chalice of adversity. The frozen plains of Russia saw me alone with a platoon of braves, thelast remnant of my regiment, forced to devour the mortal remains of thatfaithful friend who had so often carried me into the very heart of theenemy's battalions. Trusty and affectionate companion of my dangers, when rendered useless by an accident at Smolensk, he devoted his very_manes_ to the safety of his master, and made of his skin a protectionfor my frozen and lacerated feet. 

"My tongue refuses to repeat the story of our perils in that terriblecampaign. Perhaps some day I will write it with a pen dipped intears--tears, the tribute of feeble humanity. Surprised by the season offrosts in a zone of ice, without fire, without bread, without shoes, without means of transportation, denied the succor of Esculapius' art, harassed by the Cossacks, robbed by the peasants--positive vampires, wesaw our mute thunderers, which had fallen into the enemy's hands, belchforth death upon ourselves. What more can I tell you? The passage of theBeresina, the opposition at Wilna--Oh, ye gods of Thunder!--- But I feelthat grief overcomes me, and that my language is becoming tinged withthe bitterness of these recollections. 

"Nature and Love were holding in reserve for me brief but preciousconsolations. Released from my fatigues, I passed a few happy days in mynative land among the peaceful vales of Nancy. While our phalanxes werepreparing themselves for fresh combats, while I was gathering around myflag three thousand young but valorous warriors, all resolved to open toposterity the path of honor, a new emotion, to which I had before been astranger, furtively glided into my soul. 

"Beautified by all Nature's gifts, enriched by the fruits of anexcellent education, the young and interesting Clementine had scarcelypassed from the uncertain shadows of childhood into the sweet illusionsof youth. Eighteen springs composed her life. Her parents extended tosome of the army officers a hospitality which, though it was notgratuitous, was far from lacking in cordiality. To see their child andlove her, was for me the affair of a day. Her virgin heart smiled uponmy love. At the first avowals dictated to me by my passion, I saw herforehead color with a lovely modesty. We exchanged our vows one lovelyevening in June, under an arbor where her happy father sometimesdispensed to the thirsty officers the brown liquor of the North. I sworethat she should be my wife, and she promised to be mine; she yieldedstill more. Our happiness, regardless of all outside, had the calmnessof a brook whose pure wave is never troubled by the storm, and whichrolls sweetly between flowery banks, spreading its own freshness throughthe grove that protects its modest course. 

"A lightning stroke separated us from each other at the moment when Lawand Religion were about adding their sanction to our sweet communion. Ideparted before I was able to give my name to her who had given me herheart. I promised to return; she promised to wait for me; and, allbathed in her tears, I tore myself from her arms, to rush to the laurelsof Dresden and the cypresses of Leipzic. A few lines from her handreached me during the interval between the two battles. 'You are to be afather, ' she told me. Am I one? God knows! Has she waited for me? Ibelieve she has. The waiting must have appeared to be a long one sincethe birth of this child, who is forty-six years old to-day, and whocould be, in his turn, my father. 

"Pardon me for having troubled you so long with misfortunes. I wished topass rapidly over this sad history, but the unhappiness of virtue has init something sweet to temper the bitterness of grief. 

"Some days after the disaster of Leipzic, the giant of our age had mecalled into his tent, and said to me:

"'Colonel, are you a man to make your way through four armies?'

"'Yes, sire. '

"'Alone, and without escort?'

"'Yes, sire. '

"'There must be a letter carried to Dantzic. '

"'Yes, sire. '

"'You will deliver it into General Rapp's own hands?'

"'Yes, sire. '

"'It is probable you will be taken, or killed. '

"'Yes, sire. '

"'For that reason I send two other officers with copies of the samedespatch. There are three of you; the enemy will kill two, the thirdwill get there, and France will be saved. '

"'Yes, sire. '

"'The one who returns shall be a brigadier-general. '

"'Yes, sire. '

"Every detail of this interview, every word of the Emperor, everyresponse which I had the honor to address to him, is still engraved uponmy memory. All three of us set out separately. Alas! not one of usreached the goal aimed at by his valor, and I have learned to-day thatFrance was not saved. But when I see these blockheads of historiansasserting that the Emperor forgot to send orders to General Rapp, Ifeel a terrible itching to cut their ---- story short, at least. 

"'When a prisoner in the hands of the Russians in a German village, Ihad the consolation of finding an old philosopher, who gave me therarest proofs of friendship. Who would have told me, when I succumbed tothe numbness of the cold in the tower of Liebenfeld, that that sleepwould not be the last? God is my witness, that in then addressing, fromthe bottom of my heart, a last farewell to Clementine, I did not evenhope to see her again. I will see you again, then, O sweet and confidingClementine--best of spouses, and, probably, of mothers! What do I say? Isee her now! My eyes do not deceive me! This is surely she! There sheis, just as I left her! Clementine! In my arms! On my heart! Look here!What's this you've been whining to me, the rest of you? Napoleon is notdead, and the world has not grown forty-six years older, for Clementineis still the same!"

The betrothed of Leon Renault was about entering the room, and stoppedpetrified at finding herself so overwhelmingly received by the Colonel. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

THE GAME OF LOVE AND WAR. 

As she was evidently backward in falling into his arms, Fougas imitatedMahomet, and ran to the mountain. 

"Oh, Clementine!" said he, covering her with kisses, "the friendly Fatesgive you back to my devotion. I clasp once more the partner of my lifeand the mother of my child!"

The young lady was so astounded, that she did not even dream ofdefending herself. Happily, Leon Renault extricated her from the handsof the Colonel, and placed himself between them, determined to defendhis own. 

"Monsieur, " cried he, clenching his fists, "you deceive yourselfentirely, if you think you know _Mademoiselle_. She is not a person ofyour time, but of ours; she is not your _fiancée_, but mine; she hasnever been the mother of your child, and I trust that she will be themother of mine!"

Fougas was iron. He seized his rival by the arm, sent him off spinninglike a top, and put himself face to face with the young girl. 

"Are you Clementine?" he demanded of her. 

"Yes, Monsieur. "

"I call you all to witness that she is my Clementine!"

Leon returned to the charge, and seized the Colonel by the collar, atthe risk of getting himself dashed against the walls. 

"We've had joking enough!" said he. "Possibly you don't pretend tomonopolize all the Clementines in the world? Mademoiselle's name isClementine Sambucco; she was born at Martinique, where you never setyour foot, if I am to believe what you have said within an hour. She iseighteen years old----"

"So was the other!"

"Eh! The other is sixty-four to-day, since she was eighteen in 1813. Mlle. Sambucco is of an honorable and well-known family. Her father, M. Sambucco, was a magistrate; her grandfather was a functionary of the wardepartment. You see, she is in no way connected with you, nearly orremotely; and good sense and politeness, to say nothing of gratitude, make it your duty to leave her in peace. "

He gave the Colonel a shove, in his turn, and made him tumble betweenthe arms of a sofa. 

Fougas bounded up as if he had been thrown on a million springs. ButClementine stopped him, with a gesture and a smile. 

"Monsieur, " said she in her most caressing voice, "do not get angry withhim; he loves me. "

"So much the more reason why I should! Damnation!"

He cooled down, nevertheless, made the young lady sit down beside him, and regarded her from head to foot with the most absorbed attention. 

"This is surely she, " said he. "My memory, my eyes, my heart, everythingin me, recognizes her, and tells me that it is she. And nevertheless thetestimony of mankind, the calculation of times and distances, in a word, the very soul of evidence, seems to have made it a special point toconvict me of error. 

"Is it possible, then, that two women should so resemble each other?Am I the victim of an illusion of the senses? Have I recovered lifeonly to lose reason? No; I know myself, I find myself the same; myjudgment is firm and accurate, and can make its way in this worldso new and topsy-turvy. It is on but one point that my reasonwavers--Clementine!--I seem to see you again, and you are not you! Well, what's the difference, after all? If the Destiny which snatched me fromthe tomb has taken care to present to my awaking sense the image of herI loved, it must be because it had resolved to give me back, one afteranother, all the blessings which I had lost. In a few days, myepaulettes; to-morrow, the flag of the 23d of the line; to-day thisadorable presence which made my heart beat for the first time! Livingimage of all that is sweetest and clearest in the past, I throw myselfat your feet! Be my wife!"

The devil of a fellow joined the deed to the word, and the witnesses ofthe unexpected scene opened their eyes to the widest. But Clementine'saunt, the austere Mlle. Sambucco, thought that it was time to show herauthority. She stretched out her big, wrinkled hands, seized Fougas, jerked him sharply to his feet, and cried in her shrillest voice:

"Enough, sir; it is time to put an end to this scandalous farce! Myniece is not for you; I have promised her and given her away. Know that, day after to-morrow, the 19th of this month, at ten o'clock in themorning, she will marry M. Leon Renault, your benefactor!"

"And I forbid it--do you hear, Madame Aunt? And if she pretends to marrythis boy----"

"What will you do?"

"I'll curse her!"

Leon could not help laughing. The malediction of thistwenty-five-year-old Colonel appeared rather more comic than terrible. But Clementine grew pale, burst into tears, and fell, in her turn, atthe feet of Fougas. 

"Monsieur, " cried she, kissing his hands, "do not overwhelm a poor girlwho venerates you, who loves you, who will sacrifice her happiness ifyou demand it! By all the marks of tenderness which I have lavished uponyou for a month, by the tears I have poured upon your coffin, by therespectful zeal with which I have urged on your resuscitation, I conjureyou to pardon our offences. I will not marry Leon if you forbid me; Iwill do anything to please you; I will obey you in everything; but, forGod's sake, do not pour upon me your maledictions!"

"Embrace me, " said Fougas. "You yield; I pardon. "

Clementine raised herself, all radiant with joy, and held up herbeautiful forehead. The stupefaction of the spectators, especially ofthose most interested, can be better imagined than described. An oldmummy dictating laws, breaking off marriages, and imposing his desireson the whole house! Pretty little Clementine, so reasonable, soobedient, so happy in the prospect of marrying Leon Renault, sacrificing, all at once, her affections, her happiness, and almost herduty, to the caprice of an interloper. M. Nibor declared that it wasmadness. As for Leon, he would have butted his head into all the walls, if his mother had not held him back. 

"Ah, my poor child!" said she, "why did you bring that thing fromBerlin?"

"It's my fault!" cried old Monsieur Renault. 

"No, " interrupted Dr. Martout, "it's mine. "

The members of the Parisian committee discussed with M. Rollon the newaspect of the case. "Had they resuscitated a madman? Had therevivification produced some disorder of the nervous system? Had theabuse of wine and other drinkables during the first repast caused adelirium? What an interesting autopsy it would be, if they could dissectM. Fougas at the next regular meeting!"

"You would do very well as far as you would go, gentlemen, " said theColonel of the 23d. "The autopsy might explain the delirium of ourunfortunate friend, but it would not account for the impression producedupon the young lady. Is it fascination, magnetism, or what?"

While the friends and relations were weeping, counselling, and buzzingaround him, Fougas, serene and smiling, gazed at himself in Clementine'seyes, while they, too, regarded him tenderly. 

"This must be brought to an end!" cried Mlle. Sambucco the severe. "Come, Clementine!"

Fougas seemed surprised. 

"She doesn't live here, then?"

"No, sir; she lives with me. "

"Then I will escort her home. Angel! will you take my arm?"

"Oh, yes, Monsieur, with great pleasure!"

Leon gnashed his teeth. 

"This is admirable! He presumes on such familiarity, and she takes itall as a matter of course!"

He went to get his hat, for the purpose of, at least, going home withthe aunt, but his hat was not in its place; Fougas, who had not yet oneof his own, had helped himself to it without ceremony. The poor lovercrowded his head into a cap, and followed Fougas and Clementine, withthe respectable Virginie, whose arm cut like a scythe. 

By an accident which happened almost daily, the Colonel of cuirassiersmet Clementine on the way home. The young lady directed Fougas'attention to him. 

"That's M. Du Marnet, " said she. "His restaurant is at the end of ourstreet, and his room at the side of the park. I think he is very muchtaken with my little self, but he has never even bowed to me. The onlyman for whom my heart has ever beaten is Leon Renault. "

"Ah, indeed! And me?" said Fougas. 

"Oh! as for you, that's another matter. I respect you, and stand in aweof you. It seems to me as if you were a good and respectable parent. "

"Thank you!"

"I'm telling you the truth, as far as I can read it in my heart. Allthis is not very clear, I confess, but I do not understand myself. "

"Azure flower of innocence, I adore your sweet perplexity! Let love takecare of itself; it will speak to you in master tones. "

"I don't know anything about that; it's possible! Here we are at home. Good evening, Monsieur; embrace me. --Good night, Leon; don't quarrelwith M. Fougas. I love him with all my heart, but I love you in adifferent way!"

The aunt Virginie made no response to the "Good evening" of Fougas. Whenthe two men were alone in the street, Leon marched along without sayinga word, till they reached the next lamp-post. There, planting himselfresolutely opposite the Colonel, he said, "Well, sir, now that we are alone, we had better have an explanation. Idon't know by what philter or incantation you have obtained suchprodigious influence over my betrothed; but I know that I love her, thatI have been loved by her more than four years, and that I will not stopat any means of retaining and protecting her. "

"Friend, " answered Fougas, "you can brave me with impunity; my arm ischained by gratitude. It shall never be written in history that PierreFougas was an ingrate!"

"Would it have been more ungrateful in you to cut my throat, than to robme of my wife?"

"Oh, my benefactor! Learn to understand and pardon! God forbid that Ishould marry Clementine in spite of you, in spite of herself. It isthrough her consent and your own that I hope to win her. Realize thatshe has been dear to me, not for four years, as to you, but for nearlyhalf a century. Reflect that I am alone on earth, and that her sweetface is my only consolation. Will you, who have given me life, preventmy spending it happily? Have you called me back to the world only todeliver me over to despair?--Tiger! Take back, then, the life you gaveme, if you will not permit me to consecrate it to the adorableClementine!"

"Upon my soul, my dear fellow, you are superb! The habit of victory musthave totally twisted your wits. My hat is on your head:--keep it; so farso good. But because my betrothed happens to remind you vaguely of agirl in Nancy, must I give her up to you? I can't see it!"

"Friend, I will give you back your hat just as soon as you've bought meanother one; but do not ask me to give up Clementine. In the firstplace, do you know that she will reject me?"

"I'm sure of it. "

"She loves me. "

"You're crazy!"

"You've seen her at my feet. "

"What of that? It was from fear, from respect, from superstition, fromanything in the devil's name you choose to call it; but it was not fromlove. "

"We'll see about that pretty clearly, after six months of married life. "

"But, " cried Leon Renault, "have you the right to dispose of yourself?There is another Clementine, the true one; she has sacrificed everythingfor you; you are engaged, in honor, to her. Is Colonel Fougas deaf tothe voice of honor?"

"Are you mocking me? What! I marry a woman sixty-four years old?"

"You ought to; if not for her sake, at least for your child's. "

"My child is a pretty big boy. He's forty-six years old; he has nofurther need of my care. "

"He does need your name, though. "

"I'll adopt him. "

"The law is opposed to it. You're not fifty years old, and he's notfifteen years younger than you are; quite the reverse!"

"Very well; I'll legitimize him by marrying the young Clementine. "

"How can you expect her to acknowledge a child twice as old as she isherself?"

"But then I can't acknowledge him any better; so there's no need of mymarrying the old woman. Moreover, I'd be excessively accommodating tobreak my head for a child who is very likely dead. What do I say? It ispossible that he never saw the light. I love and am loved--that much issubstantial and certain; and you shall be my groomsman. "

"Not yet awhile. Mlle. Sambucco is a minor, and her guardian is myfather. "

"Your father is an honorable man; and he will not have the baseness torefuse her to me. "

"At least he will ask you if you have any position, any rank, anyfortune to offer to his ward. "

"My position? colonel; my rank? colonel; my fortune? the pay of acolonel. And the millions at Dantzic--I mustn't forget them!--Here weare at home; let me have the will of that good old gentleman who worethe lilac wig. Give me some books on history, too--a big pile ofthem--all that have anything to say about Napoleon. "

Young Renault sadly obeyed the master he had given himself. He conductedFougas to a fine chamber, brought him Herr Meiser's will and a wholeshelf of books, and bid his mortal enemy "Good night. " The Colonelembraced him impetuously, and said to him, "I will never forget that to you I owe life and Clementine. Farewelltill to-morrow, noble and generous child of my native land! farewell!"

Leon went back to the ground floor, passed the dining-room, where Gothonwas wiping the glasses and putting the silver in order, and rejoined hisfather and mother, who were waiting for him in the parlor. The guestswere gone, the candles extinguished. A single lamp lit up the solitude. The two mandarins on the étagère were motionless in their obscurecorner, and seemed to meditate gravely on the caprices of fortune. 

"Well?" demanded Mme. Renault. 

"I left him in his room, crazier and more obstinate than ever. However, I've got an idea. "

"So much the better, " said the father, "for we have none left. Sadnesshas made us stupid. But, above all things, no quarrelling. Thesesoldiers of the empire used to be terrible swordsmen. "

"Oh, I'm not afraid of him! It's Clementine that makes me anxious. Withwhat sweetness and submission she listened to the confounded babbler!"

"The heart of woman is an unfathomable abyss. Well, what do you think ofdoing?"

Leon developed in detail the project he had conceived in the street, during his conversation with Fougas. 

"The most urgent thing, " said he, "is to relieve Clementine from thisinfluence. If we could get him out of the way to-morrow, reason wouldresume its empire, and we would be married the day after to-morrow. Thatbeing done, I'll answer for the rest. "

"But how is such a madman to be gotten rid of?"

"I see but one way, but it is almost infallible--to excite his dominantpassion. These fellows sometimes imagine that they are in love, but, atthe bottom, they love nothing but powder. The thing is, to fling Fougasback into the current of military ideas. His breakfast to-morrow withthe colonel of the 23d will be a good preparation. I made him understandto-day that he ought, before all, to reclaim his rank and epaulettes, and he has become inoculated with the idea. He'll go to Paris, then. Possibly he'll find there some leather-breeches of his acquaintance. Atall events, he'll reënter the service. The occupations incident to hisposition will be a powerful diversion; he'll no longer dream ofClementine, whom I will have fixed securely. We will have to furnish himthe wherewithal to knock about the world; but all sacrifices of moneyare nothing in comparison with the happiness I wish to save. "

Madame Renault, who was a woman of thrift, blamed her son's generosity alittle. 

"The Colonel is an ungrateful soul, " said she. "We've already done toomuch in giving him back his life. Let him take care of himself now!"

"No, " said the father; "we've not the right to send him forth entirelyempty-handed. Decency forbids. "

This deliberation, which had lasted a good hour and a quarter, wasinterrupted by a tremendous racket. One would have declared that thehouse was falling down. 

"There he is again!" cried Leon. "Undoubtedly a fresh paroxysm of ravingmadness!"

He ran, followed by his parents, and mounted the steps four at a time. Acandle was burning at the sill of the chamber door. Leon took it, andpushed the door half open. 

Must it be confessed? Hope and joy spoke louder to him than fear. Hefancied himself already relieved of the Colonel. But the spectaclepresented to his eyes suddenly diverted the course of his ideas, and theinconsolable lover began laughing like a fool. A noise of kicks, blows, and slaps; an undefined group rolling on the floor in the convulsions ofa desperate struggle--so much was all he could see and understand at thefirst glance. Soon Fougas, lit up by the ruddy glow of the candle, discovered that he was struggling with Gothon, like Jacob with theangel, and went back, confused and pitiable, to bed. 

The Colonel had gone to sleep over the history of Napoleon, withoutputting out the candle. Gothon, after finishing her work, saw the lightunder the door. Her thoughts recurred to that poor Baptiste, who, perhaps, was groaning in purgatory for having let himself tumble from aroof. Hoping that Fougas could give her some news of her lover, sherapped several times, at first softly, then much louder. The Colonel'ssilence and the lighted candle made it seem to the servant that therewas something wrong. The fire might catch the curtains, and from thencethe whole building. She accordingly set down the candle, opened thedoor, and went, with cat-like steps, to put out the light. Possibly theeyes of the sleeper vaguely perceived the passage of a shadow; possiblyGothon, with her big, awkward figure, made a board in the floor creak. Fougas partially awoke, heard the rustling of a dress, dreamed it one ofthose adventures which were wont to spice garrison life under the firstempire, and held out his arms blindly, calling Clementine. Gothon, onfinding herself seized by the hair and shoulders, responded by such amasculine blow that the enemy supposed himself attacked by a man. Theblow was returned with interest; further exchanges followed, and theyfinished by clinching and rolling on the floor. 

If anybody ever did feel shamefaced, Fougas was certainly the man. Gothon went to bed, considerably bruised; the Renault family talkedsense into the Colonel, and got out of him pretty much what they wanted. He promised to set out next day, accepted as a loan the money offeredhim, and swore not to return until he should have recovered hisepaulettes and secured the Dantzic bequest. 

"And then, " said he, "I'll marry Clementine. "

On that point it was useless to argue with him; the idea was fixed. 

Everybody slept soundly in the mansion of the Renaults; the heads of thehouse, because they had had three sleepless nights; Fougas and Gothon, because each had been unmercifully pummelled; and the young Célestin, because he had drunk the heeltaps from all the glasses. 

The next morning M. Rollon came to know if Fougas were in a condition tobreakfast with him; he feared, just the least bit, that he would findhim under a shower bath. Far from it! The madman of yesterday was ascalm as a picture and as fresh as a rosebud. He shaved with Leon'srazors, while humming an air of Nicolo. With his hosts, he was charming, and he promised to settle a pension on Gothon out of Herr Meiser'slegacy. 

As soon as he had set off for the breakfast, Leon ran to the dwelling ofhis sweetheart. 

"Everything is going better, " said he. "The Colonel is much morereasonable. He has promised to leave for Paris this very day; so we canget married to-morrow. "

Mlle. Virginie Sambucco praised this plan of proceeding highly, not onlybecause she had made great preparations for the wedding, but because thepostponement of the marriage would be the talk of the town. The cardswere already out, the mayor notified, and the Virgin's chapel, in theparish church, engaged. To revoke all this at the caprice of a ghostand a fool, would be to sin against custom, common sense, and Heavenitself. 

Clementine only replied with tears. She could not be happy withoutmarrying Leon, but she would rather die, she said, than give her handwithout the sanction of M. Fougas. She promised to implore him, on herknees if necessary, and wring from him his consent. 

"But if he refuses? And it's too likely that he will!"

"I will beseech him again and again, until he says yes. "

Everybody conspired to convince her that she was unreasonable--her aunt, Leon, M. And Mme. Renault, M. Martout, M. Bonnivet, and all the friendsof the two families. At length she yielded, but, at almost the sameinstant, the door flew open, and M. Audret rushed into the parlor, crying out, "Well, well! here _is_ a piece of news! Colonel Fougas is going to fightM. Du Marnet to-morrow. "

The young girl fell, thunderstruck, into the arms of Leon Renault. 

"God punishes me!" cried she; "and the chastisement for my impiety isnot delayed. Will you still force me to obey you? Shall I be dragged tothe altar, in spite of myself, at the very hour he's risking his life?"

No one dared to insist longer, on seeing her in so pitiable a state. ButLeon offered up earnest prayers that victory might side with the colonelof cuirassiers. He was wrong, I confess; but what lover would have beensinless enough to cast the first stone at him?

And here is an account of how the precious Fougas had spent his day. 

At ten o'clock in the morning, the youngest two captains of the 23d cameto conduct him in proper style to the residence of the Colonel. M. Rollon occupied a little palace of the imperial epoch. A marble tablet, inserted over the porte-cochère, still bore the words, _Ministère desFinances_--a souvenir of the glorious time when Napoleon's courtfollowed its master to Fontainebleau. 

Colonel Rollon, the lieutenant-colonel, the major-in-chief, the threemajors of battalions, the surgeon-major, and ten or a dozen officerswere outside, awaiting the arrival of the illustrious guest from theother world. The flag was placed in the middle of the court, under guardof the ensign and a squad of non-commissioned officers selected for thehonor. The band of the regiment, at the entrance of the garden, filledup the background of the picture. Eight panoplies of arms, which hadbeen improvised the same morning by the armorers of the corps, embellished the walls and railings. A company of grenadiers, with theirarms at rest, were in attendance. 

At the entrance of Fougas, the band played the famous "_Partant pour laSyrie;_" the grenadiers presented arms; the drums beat a salute; thenon-commissioned officers and soldiers cried, "_Vive le ColonelFougas!_" the officers, in a body, approached the patriarch of theirregiment. All this was neither regular nor according to discipline, butwe can well allow a little latitude to these brave soldiers on findingtheir ancestor. For them it seemed a little debauch in glory. 

The hero of the _fête_ grasped the hands of the colonel and officerswith as much emotion as if he had found his old comrades again. Hecordially saluted the non-commissioned officers and soldiers, approachedthe flag, bent one knee to the earth, raised himself loftily, graspedthe staff, turned toward the attentive crowd, and said, "My friends, under the shadow of the flag, a soldier of France, afterforty-six years of exile, finds his family again to-day. All honor tothee, symbol of our fatherland, old partner in our victories, and heroicsupport in our misfortunes! Thy radiant eagle has hovered over prostrateand trembling Europe. Thy bruised eagle has again dashed obstinatelyagainst misfortune, and terrified the sons of Power. Honor to thee, thouwho hast led us to glory, and fortified us against the clamor ofdespair! I have seen thee ever foremost in the fiercest dangers, proudflag of my native land! Men have fallen around thee like grain beforethe reaper; while thou alone hast shown to the enemy thy front unbendingand superb. Bullets and cannon-shot have torn thee with wounds, butnever upon thee has the audacious stranger placed his hand. May thefuture deck thy front with new laurels! Mayst thou conquer new andfar-extending realms, which no fatality shall rob thee of! The day ofgreat deeds is being born again; believe a warrior, who has risen fromthe tomb to tell thee so. 'Forward!' Yes, I swear it by the spirit ofhim who led us at Wagram. There shall be great days for France when thoushalt shelter with thy glorious folds the fortunes of the brave 23d!"

Eloquence so martial and patriotic stirred all hearts. Fougas wasapplauded, fêted, embraced, and almost carried in triumph into thebanquet hall. 

Seated at table opposite M. Rollon, as if he were a second master of thehouse, he breakfasted heartily, talked a great deal, and drank more yet. You may occasionally meet, in the world, people who get drunk withoutdrinking. Fougas was far from being one of them. He never felt hisequanimity seriously disturbed short of three bottles. Often, in fact, he went much further without yielding. 

The toasts presented at dessert were distinguished for pith andcordiality. I would like to recount them in order, but am forced toadmit that they would take up too much room, and that the last, whichwere the most touching, were not of a lucidity absolutely Voltairian. 

They arose from the table at two o'clock, and betook themselves in abody to the _Café Militaire_, where the officers of the 23d placed apunch before the two colonels. They had invited, with a feeling ofeminent propriety, the superior officers of the regiment of cuirassiers. 

Fougas, who was drunker, in his own proper person, than a wholebattalion of _Suisses_, distributed a great many hand-shakings. Butacross the storm which disturbed his spirit, he recognized the personand name of M. Du Marnet, and made a grimace. Between officers, and, above all, between officers of different arms of the service, politenessis a little excessive, etiquette rather severe, _amour-propre_ somewhatsusceptible. M. Du Marnet, who was preëminently a man of the world, understood at once, from the attitude of M. Fougas, that he was not inthe presence of a friend. 

The punch appeared, blazing, went out with its strength unimpaired, andwas dispensed, with a big ladle, into threescore glasses. Fougas drankwith everybody, except M. Du Marnet. The conversation, which was erraticand noisy, imprudently raised a question of comparative merits. Anofficer of cuirassiers asked Fougas if he had seen Bordesoulle'ssplendid charge, which flung the Austrians into the valley of Plauen. Fougas had known General Bordesoulle personally, and had seen with hisown eyes the beautiful heavy cavalry manoeuvre which decided the victoryof Dresden. But he chose to be disagreeable to M. Du Marnet, byaffecting an air of ignorance or indifference. 

"In our time, " said he, "the cavalry was always brought into actionafter the battle; we employed it to bring in the enemy after we hadrouted them. "

Here a great outcry arose, and the glorious name of Murat was throwninto the balance. 

"Oh, doubtless--doubtless!" said he, shaking his head. "Murat was a goodgeneral in his limited sphere; he answered perfectly for all that waswanted of him. But if the cavalry had Murat, the infantry had Napoleon. "

M. Du Marnet observed, judiciously, that Napoleon, if he must be seizedupon for the credit of any single arm of the service, would belong tothe artillery. 

"With all my heart, monsieur, " replied Fougas; "the artillery and theinfantry. Artillery at a distance, infantry at close quarters--cavalryoff at one side. "

"Once more I beg your pardon, " answered M. Du Marnet; "you mean to say, at the sides, which is a very different matter. "

"At the sides, or at one side, I don't care! As for me, if I werecommander-in-chief, I would set the cavalry aside. "

Several cavalry officers had already flung themselves into thediscussion. M. Du Marnet held them back, and made a sign that he wantedto answer Fougas alone. 

"And why, then, if you please, would you set the cavalry aside?"

"Because the dragoon is an incomplete soldier. "

"Incomplete?"

"Yes, sir; and the proof is, that the Government has to buy four or fivehundred francs' worth of horse in order to complete him. And when thehorse receives a ball or a bayonet thrust, the dragoon is no longer goodfor anything. Have you ever seen a cavalryman on foot? It would be apretty sight!"

"I see myself on foot every day, and I don't see anything particularlyridiculous about it. "

"I'm too polite to contradict you. "

"And for me, sir, I am too just to combat one paradox with another. Whatwould you think of my logic, if I were to say to you (the idea is notmine--I found it in a book), if I were to say to you, 'I entertain ahigh regard for infantry, but, after all, the foot soldier is anincomplete soldier, deprived of his birthright, an inefficient bodydeprived of that natural complement of the soldier, called a horse! Iadmire his courage, I perceive that he makes himself useful in battle;but, after all, the poor devil has only two feet at his command, whilewe have four!' You see fit to consider a dragoon on foot ridiculous; butdoes the foot-soldier always make a very brilliant appearance when onesticks a horse between his legs? I have seen excellent infantry captainscruelly embarrassed when the minister of war made them majors. Theysaid, scratching their heads, 'It's not over when we've mounted a grade;we've got to mount a horse in the bargain!'"

This crude pleasantry amused the audience for a moment. They laughed, and the mustard mounted higher and higher in Fougas' nose. 

"In my time, " said he, "a foot soldier became a dragoon in twenty-fourhours; and if any one would like to make a match with me on horseback, sabre in hand, I'll show him what infantry is!"

"Monsieur, " coolly replied M. Du Marnet, "I hope that opportunities willnot be lacking to you in the field of battle. It is there that a truesoldier displays his talents and bravery. Infantry and cavalry, we alikebelong to France. I drink to her, Monsieur, and I hope you will notrefuse to touch glasses with me. --To France!"

This was certainly well spoken and well settled. The clicking of glassesapplauded M. Du Marnet. Fougas himself approached his adversary anddrank with him without reserve. But he whispered in his ear, speakingvery thickly:

"I hope, for my part, that you will not refuse the sabre-match which Ihad the honor to propose to you?"

"As you please, " said the colonel of cuirassiers. 

The gentleman from the other world, drunker than ever, went out of thecrowd with two officers whom he had picked up haphazard. He declared tothem that he considered himself insulted by M. Du Marnet, that achallenge had been given and accepted, and that the affair was going onswimmingly. 

"Especially, " added he in confidence, "since there is a lady in the case!These are my conditions--they are all in accordance with the honor ofthe infantry, the army, and France: we will fight on horseback, strippedto the waist, mounted bareback on two stallions. The weapon--the cavalrysabre. First blood. I want to chastise a puppy. I am far from wishing torob France of a soldier. "

These conditions were pronounced absurd by M. Du Marnet's seconds. Theyaccepted them, nevertheless, for the military code requires one to faceall dangers, however absurd. 

Fougas devoted the rest of the day to worrying the poor Renaults. Proudof the control he exercised over Clementine, he declared his wishes;swore he would take her for his wife as soon as he had recovered hisrank, family, and fortune, and prohibited her to dispose of herselfbefore that time. He broke openly with Leon and his parents, refused toaccept their good offices any longer, and quitted their house after aserious passage of high words. Leon concluded by saying that he wouldonly give up his betrothed with life itself. The Colonel shrugged hisshoulders and turned his back, carrying off, without stopping toconsider what he was doing, the father's clothes and the son's hat. Heasked M. Rollon for five hundred francs, engaged a room at the _Hotel duCadron-bleu_, went to bed without any supper, and slept straight throughuntil the arrival of his seconds. 

There was no necessity for giving him an account of what had passed theprevious day. The fogs of punch and sleep dissipated themselves in aninstant. He plunged his head and hands into a basin of fresh water, andsaid:

"So much for my toilet! Now, _Vive l'Empereur!_ Let's go and get intoline!"

The field selected by common consent was the parade-ground--a sandyplain enclosed in the forest, at a good distance from the town. All theofficers of the garrison betook themselves there of their own accord;there would have been no need of inviting them. More than one soldierwent secretly and billeted himself in a tree. The _gendarmerie_ itselfornamented the little family _fête_, with its presence. People went tosee an encounter in chivalric tourney, not merely between the infantryand the cavalry, but between the old army and the young. The exhibitionfully satisfied public expectation. No one was tempted to hiss thepiece, and everybody had his money's worth. 

Precisely at nine o'clock, the combatants entered the lists, attended bytheir four seconds and the umpire of the field. Fougas, naked to thewaist, was as handsome as a young god. His lithe and agile figure, hisproud and radiant features, the manly grace of his movements, assuredhim a flattering reception. He made his English horse caper, and salutedthe lookers-on with the point of his sword. 

M. Du Marnet, a man rather of the German type, hardy, quite hairy, moulded like the Indian Bacchus, and not like Achilles, showed in hiscountenance a slight shade of disgust. It was not necessary to be amagician to understand that this duel _in naturalibus_, under the eyesof his own officers, appeared to him useless and even ridiculous. Hishorse was a half-blood from Perche, a vigorous beast and full of fire. 

Fougas' seconds rode badly enough. They divided their attention betweenthe combat and their stirrups. M. Du Marnet had chosen the best twohorsemen in his regiment, a major and captain. The umpire of the fieldwas Colonel Rollon, an excellent rider. 

At a signal given by Colonel Rollon, Fougas rode directly at hisadversary, presenting the point of his sabre in the position of "prime, "like a cavalry soldier charging infantry in a hollow square. But hereined up about three lengths from M. Du Marnet, and described aroundhim seven or eight rapid circles, like an Arab in a play. M. Du Marnet, being forced to turn in the same spot and defend himself on all sides, clapped both spurs to his horse, broke the circle, took to the field, and threatened to commence the same manoeuvre about Fougas. But thegentleman from the other world did not wait for him. He rushed off at afull gallop, and made a round of the hippodrome, always followed by M. Du Marnet. The cuirassier, being heavier, and mounted on a slower horse, was distanced. He revenged himself by calling out to Fougas:

"Oh, Monsieur! I must say that this looks more like a race than abattle. I ought to have brought a riding-whip instead of a sword!"

But Fougas, panting and furious, had already turned upon him. 

"Hold on there!" cried he; "I have shown you the horseman; now I willshow you the soldier!"

He lanched a thrust at him, which would have gone through him like ahoop if M. Du Marnet had not been as prompt as at parade. He retorted bya fine cut _en quarte_, powerful enough to cut the invincible Fougas intwo. But the other was nimbler than a monkey. He wholly shielded hisbody by letting himself slide to the ground, and then remounted hishorse in the same second. 

"My compliments!" said M. Du Marnet. "They don't do any better than thatin the circus. "

"No more do they in war, " rejoined the other. "Ah, scoundrel! so yourevile the old army? Here's at you! A miss! Thanks for the retort, butit's not good enough yet. I'll not die from any such thrust as that! Howdo you like that?--and that?-and that? Ah, you claim that thefoot-soldier is an incomplete man! Now we're going to make _your_assortment of limbs a little incomplete. Look out for your boot! He'sparried it! Perhaps he expects to indulge in a little promenade underClementine's windows this evening. Take care! Here's for Clementine! Andhere's for the infantry! Will you parry that? So, traitor! And that? Sohe does! Perhaps you'll parry them all, then, by Heavens! Victory! Ah, Monsieur! Your blood is flowing! What have I done? Devil take the sword, the horse, and all! Major! major! come quickly! Monsieur, let yourselfrest in my arms. Beast that I am! As if all soldiers were not brothers!Oh, forgive me, my friend! Would that I could redeem each drop of yourblood with all of mine! Miserable Fougas, incapable of mastering hisfierce passions! Ah, you Esculapian Mars, I beg you tell me that thethread of his days is not to be clipped! I will not survive him, for heis a brave!"

M. Du Marnet had received a magnificent cut which traversed the left armand breast, and the blood was streaming from it at a rate to make oneshudder. The surgeon, who had provided himself with hemostaticpreparations, hastened to arrest the hemorrhage. The wound was longrather than deep, and could be cured in a few days. Fougas himselfcarried his adversary to the carriage, but that did not satisfy him. Hefirmly insisted on joining the two officers who took M. Du Marnet home;he overwhelmed the wounded man with his protestations, and was occupiedduring most of the ride in swearing eternal friendship to him. Onreaching the house, he put him to bed, embraced him, bathed him withtears, and did not leave him for a moment until he heard him snoring. 

When six o'clock struck, he went to dine at the hotel, in company withhis seconds and the referee, all of whom he had invited after the fight. He treated them magnificently, and got drunk himself, as usual. 

CHAPTER XV. 

IN WHICH THE READER WILL SEE THAT IT IS NOT FAR FROM THE CAPITAL TO THETARPEIAN ROCK. 

The next day, after a visit to M. Du Marnet, he wrote thus toClementine:

 "Light of my life, I am about to quit these scenes, the witnesses of my fatal courage and the repositories of my love. To the bosom of the capital, to the foot of the throne, I will first betake my steps. If the successor of the God of Combats is not deaf to the voice of the blood that courses in his veins, he will restore me my sword and epaulettes, so that I may lay them at thy feet. Be faithful to me--wait, hope! May these lines be to thee a talisman against the dangers threatening thy independence. Oh, my Clementine, tenderly guard thyself for thy

 "VICTOR FOUGAS!"

Clementine sent him no answer, but, just as he was getting on the train, he was accosted by a messenger, who handed him a pretty red leatherpocket-book, and ran away with all his might. The pocket-book wasentirely new, solid, and carefully fastened. It contained twelve hundredfrancs in bank notes--all the young girl's savings. Fougas had no timeto deliberate on this delicate circumstance. He was pushed into a car, the locomotive puffed, and the train started. 

The Colonel began to review in his memory the various events which hadsucceeded each other in his life during less than a week. His arrestamong the frosts of the Vistula, his sentence to death, his imprisonmentin the fortress of Liebenfeld, his reawakening at Fontainebleau, theinvasion of 1814, the return from the island of Elba, the hundred days, the death of the emperor and the king of Rome, the restoration of theBonapartes in 1852, his meeting with a young girl who was thecounterpart of Clementine Pichon in all respects, the flag of the 23d, the duel with the colonel of cuirassiers--all this, for Fougas, had nottaken up more than four days. The night reaching from the 11th ofNovember, 1813, to the 17th of August, 1859, seemed to him even a littleshorter than any of the others; for it was the only time that he had hada full sleep, without any dreaming. 

A less active spirit, and a heart less warm, would, perhaps, have lapsedinto a sort of melancholy. For, in fact, one who has been asleep forforty-six years would naturally become somewhat alien to mankind ingeneral, even in his own country. Not a relation, not a friend, not afamiliar face, on the whole face of the earth! Add to this a multitudeof new words, ideas, customs, and inventions, which make him feel theneed of a cicerone, and prove to him that he is a stranger. But Fougas, on reopening his eyes, following the precept of Horace, was thrown intothe very midst of action. He had improvised for him friends, enemies, asweetheart, and a rival. Fontainebleau, his second native place, was, provisionally, the central point of his existence. There he felt himselfloved, hated, feared, admired--in a word, well known. He knew that inthat sub-prefecture his name could not be spoken without awakening anecho. But what attached him more than all to modern times, was hiswell-established relationship with the great family of the army. Wherever a French flag floats, the soldier, young or old, is at home. Around that church-spire of the fatherland, though dear and sacred in away different from the village spire, language, ideas, and institutionschange but little. The death of individuals has little effect; they arereplaced by others who look like them, and think, talk, and act in thesame way; who do not stop on assuming the uniform of their predecessors, but inherit their souvenirs also--the glory they have acquired, theirtraditions, their jests, and even certain intonations of their voices. This accounts for Fougas' sudden friendship, after a first feeling ofjealousy, for the new colonel of the 23d; and the sudden sympathy whichhe evinced for M. Du Marnet as soon as he saw the blood running from hiswound. Quarrels between soldiers are family quarrels, which never blotout the relationship. 

Calmly satisfied that he was not alone in the world, M. Fougas derivedpleasure from all the new objects which civilization placed before hiseyes. The speed of the rail-cars fairly intoxicated him. He was inspiredwith a positive enthusiasm for this force of steam, whose theory was aclosed book to him, but on whose results he meditated much. 

"With a thousand machines like this, two thousand rifled cannon, and twohundred thousand such chaps as I am, Napoleon would have conquered theworld in six weeks. Why doesn't this young fellow on the throne makesome use of the resources he has under his control? Perhaps he hasn'tthought of it. Very well, I'll go to see him. If he looks like a man ofcapacity, I'll give him my idea; he'll make me minister of war, andthen--Forward, march!"

He had explained to him the use of the great iron wires running on polesall along the road. 

"The very thing!" said he. "Here are aides-de-camp both fleet andjudicious. Get them all into the hands of a chief-of-staff likeBerthier, and the universe would be held in a thread by the mere will ofa man!"

His meditations were interrupted, a couple of miles from Melun, by thesounds of a foreign language. He pricked up his ears, and then boundedfrom his corner as if he had sat on a pile of thorns. Horror! it wasEnglish! One of those monsters who had assassinated Napoleon at St. Helena for the sake of insuring to themselves the cotton monopoly, hadentered the compartment with a very pretty woman and two lovelychildren. 

"Conductor, stop!" cried Fougas, thrusting his body halfway out of thewindow. 

"Monsieur, " said the Englishman in good French, "I advise you to havepatience until we get to the next station. The conductor doesn't hearyou, and you're in danger of falling out on the track. If I can be ofany service to you, I have a flask of brandy with me, and a medicinechest. "

"No, sir, " replied Fougas in a most supercilious tone, "I'm in want ofnothing, and I'd rather die than accept anything from an Englishman! IfI'm calling the conductor, it's only because I want to get into adifferent car, and cleanse my eyes from the sight of an enemy of theEmperor. "

"I assure you, monsieur, " responded the Englishman, "that I am not anenemy of the Emperor. I had the honor of being received by him while hewas in London. He even deigned to pass a few days at my littlecountry-seat in Lancashire. "

"So much the better for you, if this young man is good enough to forgetwhat you have done against his family; but Fougas will never forgiveyour crimes against his country. "

As soon as they arrived at the station at Melun, he opened the door andrushed into another saloon. There he found himself alone in the presenceof two young gentlemen, whose physiognomies were far from English, andwho spoke French with the purest accent of Touraine. Both had coats ofarms on their seal-rings, so that no one might be ignorant of theirrank as nobles. Fougas was too plebeian to fancy the nobility much; butas he had left a compartment full of Britons, he was happy to meet acouple of Frenchmen. 

"Friends, " said he, inclining toward them with a cordial smile, "we arechildren of the same mother. Long life to you! Your appearance revivesme. "

The two young gentlemen opened their eyes very wide, half bowed, andresumed their conversation, without making any other response to Fougas'advance. 

"Well, then, my dear Astophe, " said one, "you saw the king atFroshdorf?"

"Yes, my good Americ; and he received me with the most affectingcondescension. 'Vicomte, ' said he to me, 'you come of a house well knownfor its fidelity. We will remember you when God replaces us on thethrone of our ancestors. Tell our brave nobility of Touraine that wehope to be remembered in their prayers, and that we never forget them inours. '"

"Pitt and Coburg!" said Fougas between his teeth. "Here are two littlerascals conspiring with the army of Condé! But, patience!"

He clenched his fists and opened his ears. 

"Didn't he say anything about politics?"

"A few vague words. Between us, I don't think he bothers with them much;he is waiting upon events. "

"He'll not wait much longer. "

"Who can tell?"

"What! Who can tell? The empire is not good for six months longer. Monseigneur de Montereau said so again last Monday to my aunt thecanoness. "

"For my part, I give them a year, for their campaign in Italy hasstrengthened them with the lower orders. I didn't put myself out to tellthe king so, though!"

"Damnation! gentlemen, this is going it a little too strongly!"interrupted Fougas. "Is it here in France that Frenchmen speak thus ofFrench institutions? Go back to your master; tell him that the empire iseternal, because it is founded on the granite of popular support, andcemented by the blood of heroes. And if the king asks you who told youthis, tell him it was Colonel Fougas, who was decorated at Wagram by theEmperor's own hand!"

The two young gentlemen looked at each other, exchanged a smile, and theViscount said to the Marquis:

"What is that?"

"A madman. "

"No, dear; a mad dog. "

"Nothing else. "[6]

"Very well, gentlemen, " cried the Colonel. "Speak English; you're fitfor it!"

He changed his compartment at the next station, and fell in with a lotof young painters. He called them disciples of Zeuxis, and asked themabout Gérard, Gros, and David. These gentlemen found the sport novel, and recommended him to go and see Talma in the new tragedy of Arnault. 

The fortifications of Paris dazzled him very much, and scandalized him alittle. 

"I don't like this, " said he to his companions. "The true rampart of acapital is the courage of a great people. This piling bastions aroundParis, is saying to the enemy that it is possible to conquer France. "

The train at last stopped at the Mazas station. The Colonel, who had nobaggage, marched out pompously, with his hands in his pockets, to lookfor the _hôtel de Nantes_. As he had spent three months in Paris aboutthe year 1810, he considered himself acquainted with the city, and forthat reason he did not fail to lose himself as soon as he got there. Butin the various quarters which he traversed at hazard, he admired thegreat changes which had been wrought during his absence. Fougas' tastewas for having streets very long, very wide, and bordered with verylarge houses all alike; he could not fail to notice that the Parisianstyle was rapidly approaching his ideal. It was not yet absoluteperfection, but progress was manifest. 

By a very natural illusion, he paused twenty times to salute people offamiliar appearance; but no one recognized him. 

After a walk of five hours he reached the _Place du Carrousel_. The_hôtel de Nantes_ was no longer there; but the Louvre had been erectedinstead. Fougas employed a quarter of an hour in regarding thismonument of architecture, and half an hour in contemplating two Zouavesof the guard who were playing piquet. He inquired if the Emperor was inParis; whereupon his attention was called to the flag floating over theTuilleries. 

"Good!" said he. "But first I must get some new clothes. "

He took a room in a hotel on the _Rue Saint Honoré_, and asked a waiterwhich was the most celebrated tailor in Paris. The waiter handed him aBusiness Directory. Fougas hunted out the Emperor's bootmaker, shirtmaker, hatter, tailor, barber, and glovemaker. He took down theirnames and addresses in Clementine's pocket-book, after which he took acarriage and set out. 

As he had a small and shapely foot, he found boots ready-made withoutany difficulty. He was promised, too, that all the linen he requiredshould be sent home in the evening. But when he came to explain to thehatter what sort of an apparatus he intended to plant on his head, heencountered great difficulties. His ideal was an enormous hat, large atthe crown, small below, broad in the brim, and curved far down behindand before; in a word, the historic heirloom to which the founder ofBolivia gave his name long ago. The shop had to be turned upside down, and all its recesses searched, to find what he wanted. 

"At last, " cried the hatter, "here's your article. If it's for a stagedress, you ought to be satisfied; the comic effect can be dependedupon. "

Fougas answered dryly, that the hat was much less ridiculous than allthose which were then circulating around the streets of Paris. 

At the celebrated tailor's, in the _Rue de la Paix_, there was almost abattle. 

"No, monsieur, " said Alfred, "I'll never make you a frogged surtout anda pair of trousers _à la Cosaque_! Go to Babin, or Morean, if you want acarnival dress; but it shall never be said that a man of as good figureas yours left our establishment caricatured. "

"Thunder and guns!" retorted Fougas. "You're a head taller than I am, Mister Giant, but I'm a colonel of the Grand Empire, and it won't do fordrum-majors to give orders to colonels!"

Of course, the devil of a fellow had the last word. His measure wastaken, a book of costumes consulted, and a promise made that intwenty-four hours he should be dressed in the height of the fashion of1813. Cloths were presented for his selection, among them some Englishfabrics. These he threw aside with disgust. 

"The blue cloth of France, " cried he, "and made in France! And cut it insuch a style that any one seeing me in Pekin would say, 'That's asoldier!'"

The officers of our day have precisely the opposite fancy. They make aneffort to resemble all other "gentlemen"[7] when they assume thecivilian's dress. 

Fougas ordered, in the _Rue Richelieu_, a black satin scarf, which hidhis shirt, and reached up to his ears. Then he went toward the _PalaisRoyal_, entered a celebrated restaurant, and ordered his dinner. Forbreakfast he had only taken a bite at a pastry-cook's in the_Boulevard_, so his appetite, which had been sharpened by the excursion, did wonders. He ate and drank as he did at Fontainebleau. But the billseemed to him hard to digest: it was for a hundred and ten francs and afew centimes. "The devil!" said he; "living has become dear in Paris!"Brandy entered into the sum total for an item of nine francs. They hadgiven him a bottle, and a glass about the size of a thimble; thisgimcrack had amused Fougas, and he diverted himself by filling andemptying it a dozen times. But on leaving the table he was not drunk; anamiable gayety inspired him, but nothing more. It occurred to him to getback some of his money by buying some lottery tickets at Number 113. Buta bottle-seller located in that building apprised him that France hadnot gambled for thirty years. He pushed on to the _Théâtre Français_, tosee if the Emperor's actors might not be giving some fine tragedy, butthe poster disgusted him. Modern comedies played by new actors! NeitherTalma, nor Fleury, nor Thénard, nor the Baptistes, nor Mlle. Mars, norMlle. Raucourt! He then went to the opera, where Charles VI. Was beinggiven. The music astounded him at once. He was not accustomed to hear somuch noise anywhere but on the battle-field. Nevertheless, his earssoon inured themselves to the clangor of the instruments; and thefatigue of the day, the pleasure of being comfortably seated, and thelabor of digestion, plunged him into a doze. He woke up with a start atthis famous patriotic song:

 "_Guerre aux tyrans! jamais, jamais en France, _ _Jamais l'Anglais ne régnera!_"[8]

"No!" cried he, stretching out his arms toward the stage. "Never! Let usswear it together on the sacred altar of our native land! Perish, perfidious Albion! _Vive l'Empereur!_"

The pit and orchestra arose at once, less to express accord with Fougas'sentiments, than to silence him. During the following _entr'acte_, acommissioner of police said in his ear, that when one had dined as hehad, one ought to go quietly to bed, instead of interrupting theperformance of the opera. 

He replied that he had dined as usual, and that this explosion ofpatriotic sentiment had not proceeded from the stomach. 

"But, " said he, "when, in this palace of misused magnificence, hatred ofthe enemy is stigmatized as a crime, I must go and breathe a freer air, and bow before the temple of Glory before I go to bed. "

"You'll do well to do so, " said the policeman. 

He went out, haughtier and more erect than ever, reached the Boulevard, and ran with great strides as far as the Corinthian temple at the end. While on his way, he greatly admired the lighting of the city. M. Martout had explained to him the manufacture of gas; he had notunderstood anything about it, but the glowing and ruddy flame was anactual treat to his eyes. 

As soon as he had reached the monument commanding the entrance to the_Rue Royale_, he stopped on the pavement, collected his thoughts for aninstant, and exclaimed:

"Oh, Glory! Inspirer of great deeds, widow of the mighty conqueror ofEurope! receive the homage of thy devoted Victor Fougas! For thee I haveendured hunger, sweat, and frost, and eaten the most faithful of horses. For thee I am ready to brave further perils, and again to face death onevery battle-field. I seek thee rather than happiness, riches, or power. Reject not the offering of my heart and the sacrifice of my blood! Asthe price of such devotion, I ask nothing but a smile from thy eyes anda laurel from thy hand!"

This prayer went all glowing to the ears of _Saint Marie Madeleine_, thepatroness of the ex-temple of Glory. Thus the purchaser of a chateausometimes receives a letter addressed to the original proprietor. 

Fougas returned by the _Rue de la Paix_ and the _Place Vendôme_, andsaluted, in passing, the only familiar figure he had yet found in Paris. The new costume of Napoleon on the column did not displease him in anyway. He preferred the cocked hat to a crown, and the gray surtout to atheatrical cloak. 

The night was restless. In the Colonel's brain a thousand diverseprojects crossed each other in all directions. He prepared the littlespeech which he should make to the Emperor, going to sleep in the middleof a phrase, and waking up with a start in the attempt to lay hold onthe idea which had so suddenly vanished. He put out and relit his candletwenty times. The recollection of Clementine was occasionallyintermingled with dreams of war and political utopias. But I mustconfess that the young girl's figure seldom got any higher than thesecond place. 

But if the night appeared too long, the morning seemed short inproportion. The idea of meeting the new master of the empire face toface, inspired and chilled him in turn. For an instant he hoped thatsomething would be lacking in his toilet--that some shopkeeper wouldfurnish him an honorable pretext for postponing his visit until the nextday. But everybody displayed the most desperate punctuality. Preciselyat noon, the trousers _à la Cosaque_ and the frogged surtout were on thefoot of the bed opposite the famous Bolivar hat. 

"I may as well be dressing, " said Fougas. "Possibly this young man maynot be at home. In that case I'll leave my name, and wait until he sendsfor me. "

He got himself up gorgeously in his own way, and, although it may appearimpossible to my readers, Fougas, in a black satin scarf and froggedsurtout, was not homely nor even ridiculous. His tall figure, lithebuild, lofty and impressive carriage, and brusque movements, were all ina certain harmony with the costume of the olden time. He appearedstrange, and that was all. To keep his courage up, he dropped into arestaurant, ate four cutlets, a loaf of bread, a slice of cheese, andwashed it all down with two bottles of wine. The coffee and supplementsbrought him up to two o'clock, and that was the time he had set forhimself. 

He tipped his hat slightly over one ear, buttoned his buckskin gloves, coughed energetically two or three times before the sentinel at the _Ruede Rivoli_, and marched bravely into the gate. 

"Monsieur, " cried the porter, "what do you want?"

"The Emperor!"

"Have you an audience letter?"

"Colonel Fougas does not need one. Go and ask references of him whotowers over the _Place Vendôme_. He'll tell you that the name of Fougashas always been a synonym for bravery and fidelity. "

"You knew the first Emperor?"

"Yes, my little joker; and I have talked with him just as I am talkingwith you. "

"Indeed! But how old are you then?"

"Seventy years on the dial-plate of time; twenty-four years on thetablets of History!"

The porter raised his eyes to Heaven, and murmured:

"Still another! This makes the fourth for this week!"

He made a sign to a little gentleman in black, who was smoking his pipein the court of the Tuilleries. Then he said to Fougas, putting his handon his arm:

"So, my good friend, you want to see the Emperor?"

"I've already told you so, familiar individual!"

"Very well; you shall see him to-day. That gentleman going along therewith the pipe in his mouth, is the one who introduces visitors; he willtake care of you. But the Emperor is not in the Palace; he is in thecountry. It's all the same to you, isn't it, if you do have to go intothe country?"

"What the devil do you suppose I care?"

"Only I don't suppose you care to go on foot. A carriage has alreadybeen ordered for you. Come, my good fellow, get in, and be reasonable!"

Two minutes later, Fougas, accompanied by a detective, was riding to apolice station. 

His business was soon disposed of. The commissary who received him wasthe same one who had spoken to him the previous evening at the opera. Adoctor was called, and gave the best verdict of monomania that ever senta man to Charenton. All this was done politely and pleasantly, without aword which could put the Colonel on his guard or give him a suspicion ofthe fate held in reserve for him. He merely found the ceremonial ratherlong and peculiar, and prepared on the spot several well-soundingsentences, which he promised himself the honor of repeating to theEmperor. 

At last he was permitted to resume his route. The hack had been keptwaiting; the gentleman-usher relit his pipe, said three words to thedriver, and seated himself at the left of the Colonel. The carriage setoff at a trot, reached the _Boulevards_, and took the direction of theBastille. It had gotten opposite the _Porte Saint-Martin_, and Fougas, with his head at the window, was continuing the composition of hisimpromptu speech, when an open carriage drawn by a pair of superbchestnuts passed, so to speak, under his very nose. A portly man with agray moustache turned his head, and cried, "Fougas!"

Robinson Crusoe, discovering the human footprint on his island, was notmore astonished and delighted than our hero on hearing that cry of"Fougas!" To open the door, jump out into the road, run to the carriage, which had been stopped, fling himself into it at a single bound, withoutthe help of the step, and fall into the arms of the portly gentlemanwith the gray moustache, was all the work of a second. The barouche hadlong disappeared, when the detective at a gallop, followed by his hackat a trot, traversed the line of the _Boulevards_, asking all thepolicemen if they had not seen a crazy man pass that way. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

THE MEMORABLE INTERVIEW BETWEEN COLONEL FOUGAS AND HIS MAJESTY THEEMPEROR OF THE FRENCH. 

In falling upon the neck of the big man with the gray moustache, Fougassupposed he was embracing Massena. He naturally intimated as much tohim, whereupon the owner of the barouche burst into a great peal oflaughter. 

"Ah, my poor old boy, " said he, "it's a long time since we buried the'Child of Victory!' Look me square in the face: I am Leblanc, of theRussian campaign. "

"Impossible! You little Leblanc?"

"Lieutenant in the 3d Artillery, who shared with you a million ofdangers and that famous piece of roast horse which you salted with yourtears. "

"Well, upon my soul! It _is_ you! You cut me out a pair of boots fromthe skin of the unfortunate Zephyr! And we needn't speak of the numberof times you saved my life! Oh, my brave and faithful friend, thank Godthat I embrace you once more! Yes, I recognize you now; but I needn'tsay that you are changed!"

"Gad! _I_ haven't been preserved in a jug of spirits of wine. I've_lived_, for my part!"

"You know my history, then?"

"I heard it told last night at the Minister's of Public Instruction. Hehad there the savant who set you on your legs again. I even wrote toyou, on getting back home, to offer you a bunk and a place at mess; butmy letter is on the way to Fontainebleau. "

"Thanks! You're a sound one! Ah, my poor old boy, what things havehappened since Beresina! You know all the misfortunes that have come?"

"I've seen them, and that's sadder still. I was a major after Waterloo;the Bourbons put me aside on half-pay. My friends got me back intoservice again in 1822, but I had bad luck, and lazed around in garrisonsat Lille, Grenoble, and Strasburg, without getting ahead any. My secondepaulette did not reach me till 1830; then I took a little turn inAfrica. I was made brigadier-general at Isly, got home again, and bangedabout from pillar to post until 1848. During that year we had a Junecampaign in Paris itself. My heart still bleeds every time I think ofit, and, upon my soul, you're blest in not having seen it. I got threeballs in my body and a commission as general of division. After all, I've no right to complain for the campaign in Italy brought me goodluck. Here I am, Marshal of France, with a hundred thousand francsincome, and Duke of Solferino in the bargain. Yes, the Emperor has put ahandle to my name. The fact is, that short 'Leblanc' was a little tooshort. "

"Thunderation!" cried Fougas, "that's splendid! I swear, Leblanc, thatI'm not jealous of your good fortune! It's seldom enough that onesoldier rejoices over the promotion of another; but indeed, from thebottom of my heart, I assure you that I do now. It's all the better, since you deserved your honors, and the blind goddess must have had aglimpse of your heart and talents, over the bandage that covers hereyes!"

"You're very kind! But let's talk about yourself now: where were yougoing when I met you?"

"To see the Emperor. "

"So was I; but where the devil were you looking for him?"

"I don't know; somebody was showing me the way. "

"But he is at the Tuilleries!"

"No!"

"Yes! There's something under all this; tell me about it. "

Fougas did not wait to be urged. The Marshal soon understood from whatsort of danger he had extricated his friend. 

"The _concierge_ is mistaken, " said he; "the Emperor is at the Palace;and, as we've reached there now, come with me; perhaps I can present youafter my audience. "

"The very thing! Leblanc, my heart beats at the idea of seeing thisyoung man. Is he a good one? Can he be counted upon? Is he anything likethe other?"

"You can see for yourself. Wait here. "

The friendship of these two men dated from the winter of 1812. Duringthe retreat of the French army, chance flung the lieutenant of artilleryand the colonel of the 23d together. One was eighteen years old, theother not quite twenty-four. The distance between their ranks was easilybridged over by common danger. All men are equal before hunger, cold, and fatigue. One morning, Leblanc, at the head of ten men, rescuedFougas from the hands of the Cossacks; then Fougas sabred a half dozenstragglers who were trying to steal Leblanc's cloak. Eight days later, Leblanc pulled his friend out of a hut which the peasants had set onfire; and Fougas, in turn, fished Leblanc out of the Beresina. The listof their dangers and their mutual services is too long for me to giveentire. To finish off, the Colonel, at Koenigsberg, passed three weeksat the bedside of the lieutenant, who was attacked with fever and ague. There is no doubt that this tender care saved his life. This reciprocaldevotion had formed between them bonds so strong that a separation offorty-six years could not break them. 

Fougas, alone in a great saloon, was buried in the recollections of thatgood old time, when an usher asked him to remove his gloves, and go intothe cabinet of the Emperor. 

Respect for the powers that be, which is the very foundation of mycharacter, does not permit me to bring august personages upon the scene. But Fougas' correspondence belongs to contemporaneous history, and hereis the letter which he wrote to Clementine on returning to his hotel:

 "PARIS (what am I saying?)--HEAVEN, _Aug. _ 21, 1859. 

 "MY SWEET ANGEL: I am intoxicated with joy, gratitude, and admiration. I have seen him, I have spoken to him; he gave me his hand, he made me be seated. He is a great prince; he will be the master of the world. He gave me the medal of St. Helena, and the Cross of an Officer. Little Leblanc, an old friend and a true heart, conducted me into his presence; he is Marshal of France, too, and a Duke of the new empire! As for promotion, there's no more need of speculation on that head. A prisoner of war in Prussia and in a triple coffin, I return with my rank; so says the military law. But in less than three months I shall be a brigadier-general--that's certain; he deigned to promise it to me himself. What a man! A god on earth! No more conceited than he of Wagram and Moscow, and, like him, the father of the soldier. He wanted to give me money from his private purse to replace my equipments. I answered, 'No, sire; I have a claim to recover at Dantzic; if it is paid, I shall be rich; if the debt is denied, my pay will suffice for me. ' Thereupon (O Beneficence of Princes, thou art not, then, but an empty name!) he smiled slightly, and said, twisting his moustache, 'You remained in Prussia from 1813 to 1859?'--'Yes, sire. '--'Prisoner of war under exceptional conditions?'--'Yes, sire. '--'The treaties of 1814 and 1815 stipulated for the release of prisoners?'--'Yes, sire. '--'They have been violated, then, in your case?'--'Yes, sire. '--'Well, then, Prussia owes you an indemnity. I will see that it is recovered by diplomatic proceedings. '--'Yes sire. What goodness!' Now, there's an idea which would never have occurred to me! To squeeze money out of Prussia--Prussia, who showed herself so greedy for our treasures in 1814 and 1815! _Vive l'Empereur!_ My well-beloved Clementine! Oh, may our glorious and magnanimous sovereign live forever! _Vivent l'Imperatrice et le Prince Imperial!_ I saw them! The Emperor presented me to his family! The Prince is an admirable little soldier! He condescended to beat the drum on my new hat. I wept with emotion. Her Majesty the Empress said, with an angelic smile, that she had heard my misfortunes spoken of. 'Oh, Madame!' I replied, 'such a moment as this compensates them a hundred fold. '--'You must come and dance at the Tuilleries next winter. '--'Alas, Madame, I have never danced but to the music of cannon; but I shall spare no effort to please you! I will study the art of Vestris. "--'_I_'ve managed to learn the quadrille very nicely, ' joined in Leblanc. 

 "The Emperor deigned to express his happiness at getting back an officer like me, who had yesterday, so to speak, taken part in the finest campaigns of the century, and retained all the traditions of the great war. This encouraged me. I no longer feared to remind him of the famous principle of the good old time--to treat for peace only in capitals! 'Take care!' said he; 'it was on the strength of that principle that the allied armies twice came to settle the basis of peace at Paris. '--'They'll not come here again, ' cried I, 'without passing over my body!' I dwelt upon the troubles apt to come from too much intimacy with England. I expressed a hope of at once proceeding to the conquest of the world. First, to get back our frontiers for ourselves; next, the natural frontiers of Europe: for Europe is but the suburb of France, and cannot he annexed too soon. The Emperor shook his head as if he was not of my opinion. Does he entertain peaceful designs? I do not wish to dwell upon this idea; it would kill me!

 "He asked me what impressions I had formed regarding the appearance of the changes which had been made in Paris. I answered, with the sincerity of a lofty soul, 'Sire, the new Paris is the great work of a great reign; but I entertain the hope that your improvements have not yet had the finishing touch. '--'What is left to be done, now, in your opinion?'--'First of all, to remedy the course of the Seine, whose irregular curve is positively shocking. The straight line is the shortest distance between two points, for rivers as well as boulevards. In the second place, to level the ground and suppress all inequalites of surface which seem to say to the Government, 'Thou art less powerful than Nature!' Having accomplished this preparatory work, I would trace a circle three leagues in diameter, whose circumference, marked by an elegant railing, should be the boundary of Paris. At the centre I would build a palace for your Majesty and the princes of the imperial family--a vast and splendid edifice, including in its arrangements all the public offices--the staff offices, courts, museums, cabinet offices, archives, police, the Institute, embassies, prisons, bank of France, lecture-rooms, theatres, the _Moniteur_, imperial printing office, manufactory of Sèvres porcelain and Gobelin tapestry, and commissary arrangements. At this palace, circular in form and of magnificent architecture, should centre twelve boulevards, a hundred and twenty yards wide, terminated by twelve railroads, and called by the names of twelve marshals of France. Each boulevard is built up with uniform houses, four stories high, having in front an iron railing and a little garden three yards wide, all to be planted with the same kind of flowers. A hundred streets, sixty yards wide, should connect the boulevards; these streets communicate with each other by lanes thirty-five yards wide, the whole built up uniformly according to official plans, with railings, gardens, and specified flowers. Householders should be prohibited from allowing any business to be conducted in their establishments, for the aspect of shops debases the intellect and degrades the heart. Merchants could be permitted to establish themselves in the suburbs under the regulation of the laws. The ground floors of all the houses to be occupied with stables and kitchens; the first floors let to persons worth an income of a hundred thousand francs and over; the second, to those worth from eighty to a hundred thousand francs; the third, to those worth from sixty to eighty thousand; the fourth, from fifty to sixty thousand. No one with an income of less than fifty thousand francs should be permitted to live in Paris. Workmen are to be lodged ten miles outside of the boundary in workmen's barracks. We will exempt them from taxes to make them love us; and we'll plant cannon around them to make them fear us. That's my Paris!' The Emperor listened to me patiently, and twisted his moustache. 'Your plan, ' said he, 'would cost a trifle. '--'Not much more than the one already adopted, ' answered I. At this remark, an unreserved hilarity, the cause of which I am unable to explain, lit up his serious countenance. 'Don't you think, ' said he, 'that your project would ruin a great many people?'--'Eh! What difference does it make to me?' I cried, 'since it will ruin none but the rich?' He began laughing again, and bid me farewell, saying, 'Colonel, you will have to remain colonel only until we make you brigadier-general!' He permitted me to press his hand a second time. I waved an adieu to brave Leblanc, who has invited me to dine with him this evening, and I returned to my hotel to pour my joy into your sweet soul. Oh, Clementine! hope on! You shall be happy, and I shall be great! To-morrow morning I leave for Dantzic. Gold is a deception, but I want you to be rich. 

 "A sweet kiss upon your pure brow!

 "V. FOUGAS. "

The subscribers to _La Patrie_, who keep files of their paper, arehereby requested to hunt up the number for the 23d of August, 1859. Init they will find two paragraphs of local intelligence, which I havetaken the liberty of copying here:

"His Excellency, the Marshal, the Duke of Solferino, yesterday had thehonor of presenting to his Majesty the Emperor a hero of the firstEmpire, Colonel Fougas, whom an almost miraculous event, alreadymentioned in a report to the Academy of Sciences, has restored to hiscountry. "

Such was the first paragraph; here is the second

"A madman, the fourth this week, but the most dangerous of all, presented himself yesterday at one of the entrances of the Tuilleries. Decked out in a grotesque costume, his eyes flashing, his hat cockedover his ear, and addressing the most respectable people with unheard-ofrudeness, he attempted to force his way past the sentry, and thrusthimself, for what purpose God only knows, into the presence of theSovereign. During his incoherent ejaculations, the following words weredistinguished: 'bravery, _Vendôme_ column, fidelity, the dial-plate oftime, the tablets of history. ' When he was arrested by one of thedetective watch, and taken before the police commissioner of theTuilleries section, he was recognized as the same individual who, theevening before, at the opera, had interrupted the performance of CharlesVI. With most unseemly cries. After the customary medical and legalproceedings, he was ordered to be sent to the Charenton Hospital. Butopposite the _porte Saint-Martin_, taking advantage of a lock among thevehicles, and of the Herculean strength with which he is endowed, hewrested his hands from his keeper, threw him down, beat him, leaped at abound into the street, and disappeared in the crowd. The most activesearch was immediately set on foot, and we have it from the bestauthority that the police are already on the track of the fugitive. "

CHAPTER XVII. 

WHEREIN HERR NICHOLAS MEISER, ONE OF THE SOLID MEN OF DANTZIC, RECEIVESAN UNWELCOME VISIT. 

The wisdom of mankind declares that ill-gotten gains never do any good. I maintain that they do the robbers more good than the robbed, and thegood fortune of Herr Nicholas Meiser is an argument in support of myproposition. 

The nephew of the illustrious physiologist, after brewing a great dealof beer from a very little hops, and prematurely appropriating thelegacy intended for Fougas, had amassed, by various operations, afortune of from eight to ten millions. "In what kind of operations?" Noone ever told me, but I know that he called all operations that wouldmake money, good ones. To lend small sums at a big interest, toaccumulate great stores of grain in order to relieve a scarcity afterproducing it himself, to foreclose on unfortunate debtors, to fit out avessel or two for trade in black flesh on the African coast--such arespecimens of the speculations which the good man did not despise. Henever boasted of them, for he was modest; but he never blushed for them, for he had expanded his conscience simultaneously with his capital. Asfor the rest, he was a man of honor, in the commercial sense of theword, and capable of strangling the whole human race rather than ofletting his signature be protested. The banks of Dantzic, Berlin, Vienna, and Paris, held him in high esteem; his money passed through allof them. 

He was fat, unctuous, and florid, and lived well. His wife's nose wasmuch too long, and her bones much too prominent, but she loved him withall her heart, and made him little sweetmeats. A perfect congeniality ofsentiment united this charming couple. They talked with each other withopen hearts, and never thought of keeping back any of their evilthoughts. Every year, at Saint Martin's day, when rents became due, theyturned out of doors the families of five or six workmen who could notpay for their terms; but they dined none the worse after it, and theirgood-night kiss was none the less sweet. 

The husband was sixty-six years old, the wife sixty-four. Theirphysiognomies were such as inspire benevolence and command respect. Tocomplete their outward resemblance to the patriarchs, nothing was neededbut children and grandchildren. Nature had given them one son--an onlyone, because they had not solicited Nature for more. They would havethought it criminal improvidence to divide their fortune among several. Unhappily, this only child, the heir-presumptive to so many millions, died at the University of Heidelberg from eating too many sausages. Heset out, when he was twenty, for that Valhalla of German students, wherethey eat infinite sausages, and drink inexhaustible beer; where theysing songs of eight hundred million verses, and gash the tips of eachother's noses with huge swords. Envious Death snatched him from hisparents when they were no longer of an age to improvise a successor. Theunfortunate old millionnaires tenderly collected his effects, to sellthem. During this operation, so trying to their souls (for there was agreat deal of brand-new linen that could not be found), Nicholas Meisersaid to his wife, "My heart bleeds at the idea that our buildings anddollars, our goods above ground and under, should go to strangers. Parents ought always to have an extra son, just as they have avice-umpire in the Chamber of Commerce. "

But Time, who is a great teacher in Germany and several other countries, led them to see that there is consolation for all things except the lossof money. Five years afterwards, Frau Meiser said to her husband, with atender and philosophic, smile: "Who can fathom the decrees ofProvidence? Perhaps your son would have brought us to a crust. Look atTheobald Scheffler, his old comrade. He wasted twenty thousand francs atParis on a woman who kicked up her legs in the middle of a quadrille. Weourselves spent more than two thousand thalers a year for our wickedscapegrace. His death is a great saving, and therefore a good thing!"

As long as the three coffins of Fougas were in the house, the good damescolded at the visions and restlessness of her husband. "What in thename of sense are you thinking about? You've been kicking me all nightagain. Let's throw this ragamuffin of a Frenchman into the fire; thenhe'll no longer disturb the repose of a peaceable family. We can sellthe leaden box; it must weigh at least two hundred pounds. The whitesilk will make me a good lining for a dress; and the wool in thestuffing, will easily make us a mattress. " But a tinge of superstitionprevented Meiser from following his wife's advice; he preferred to ridhimself of the Colonel by selling him. 

The house of this worthy couple was the handsomest and most substantialon the street of Public Wells, in the aristocratic part of the city. Strong railings, in iron open work, decorated all the windowsmagnificently, and the door was sheathed in iron, like a knight of theolden time. A system of little mirrors, ingeniously arranged in theentrance, enabled a visitor to be seen before he had even knocked. Asingle servant, a regular horse for work and camel for temperance, ministered under this roof blessed by the gods. 

The old servant slept away from the house, both because he preferred toand because while he did so he could not be tempted to wring thevenerable necks of his employers. A few books on Commerce and Religionconstituted the library of the two old people. They never cared to havea garden at the back of their house, because the shrubbery mightconceal thieves. They fastened their door with bolts every evening ateight o'clock, and never went out without being obliged to, for fear ofmeeting dangerous people. 

And nevertheless, on the 29th of April, 1859, at eleven o'clock in themorning, Nicholas Meiser was far away from his beloved home. Gracious!how very far away for him--this honest burgher of Dantzic! He wastraversing, with heavy tread, the promenade in Berlin, which bears thename of one of Alphonse Karrs' romances: _Sous les tilleuls. _ In German:_Unter den Linden. _

What mighty agency had thrown out of his bon-bon box, this big redbon-bon on two legs? The same that led Alexander to Babylon, Scipio toCarthage, Godfrey de Bouillon to Jerusalem, and Napoleon toMoscow--Ambition! Meiser did not expect to be presented with the keys ofthe city on a cushion of red velvet, but he knew a great lord, a clerkin a government office, and a chambermaid who were working to get apatent of nobility for him. To call himself Von Meiser instead of plainMeiser! What a glorious dream!

This good man had in his character that compound of meanness and vanitywhich places lacqueys so far apart from the rest of mankind. Full ofrespect for power, and admiration for conventional greatness, he neverpronounced the name of king, prince, or even baron, without emphasis andunction. He mouthed every aristocratic syllable, and the single word"Monseigneur" seemed to him like a mouthful of well-spiced soup. Examples of this disposition are not rare in Germany, and are evenoccasionally found elsewhere. If they could be transported to a countrywhere all men are equal, homesickness for boot-licking would kill them. 

The claims brought to bear in favor of Nicholas Meiser, were not of thekind which at once spring the balance, but of the kind which make itturn little by little. Nephew of an illustrious man of science, powerfully rich, a man of sound judgment, a subscriber to the _NewGazette of the Cross_, full of hatred for the opposition, author of atoast against the influence of demagogues, once a member of the CityCouncil, once an umpire in the Chamber of Commerce, once a corporal inthe militia, and an open enemy of Poland and all nations but the strongones. His most brilliant action dated back ten years. He had denounced, by an anonymous letter, a member of the French Parliament who had takenrefuge in Dantzic. While Meiser was walking under the lindens, his causewas progressing swimmingly. He had received that sweet assurance fromthe very lips of its promoters. And so he tripped lightly toward thedepot of the North-Eastern Railroad, without any other baggage than arevolver in his pocket. His black leather trunk had gone before; and waswaiting for him at the station. On the way, he was glancing into theshop windows, when he stopped short before a stationer's, and rubbed hiseyes--a sovereign remedy, people say, for impaired vision. Between theportraits of Mme. Sand and M. Mérimée, the two greatest writers ofFrance, he had noticed, examined, recognized a well-known countenance. 

"Surely, " said he, "I've seen that man before, but he was paler. Can ourold lodger have come to life? Impossible! I burned up my uncle'sdirections, so the world has lost--thanks to me--the secret ofresuscitating people. Nevertheless, the resemblance is striking. Is it aportrait of Colonel Fougas, taken from life in 1813? No; for photographywas not then invented. But possibly it's a photograph copied from anengraving? Here are Louis XVI. And Marie Antoinette reproduced in thesame way: that doesn't prove that Robespierre had them resuscitated. Anyhow, I've had an unfortunate encounter. "

He took a step toward the door of the shop to reassure himself, but apeculiar reluctance held him back. People might wonder at him, ask himquestions, try to learn the reason of his trouble. He resumed his walkat a brisk pace, trying to reassure himself. 

"Bah! It's an hallucination--the result of dwelling too much on oneidea. Moreover, the portrait was dressed in the style of 1813; thatsettles the question. "

He reached the station, had his black leather trunk checked, and flunghimself down at full length in a first-class compartment. First hesmoked his porcelain pipe, but his two neighbors being asleep, he soonfollowed their example, and began snoring. Now this big man's snores hadsomething awe-inspiring about them; you could have fancied yourselflistening to the trumpets of the judgment day. What shade visited him inthis hour of sleep, no other soul has ever known; for he kept his dreamsto himself, as he did everything that was his. 

But between two stations, while the train was running at full speed, hedistinctly felt two powerful hands pulling at his feet--a sensation, alas! too well known, and one which called up the ugliest recollectionsof his life. He opened his eyes in terror, and saw the man of thephotograph, in the costume of the photograph. His hair stood on end, hiseyes grew as big as saucers, he uttered a loud cry, and flung himselfheadlong between the seats among the legs of his neighbors. 

A few vigorous kicks brought him to himself. He got up as well as hecould, and looked about him. No one was there but the two gentlemenopposite, who were mechanically lanching their last kicks into the emptyspace, and rubbing their eyes with their arms. He succeeded in awakeningthem, and asked them about the visitation he had had; but the gentlemendeclared they had seen nothing. 

Meiser sadly returned to his own thoughts; he noticed that the visionsappeared terribly real. This idea prevented his going to sleep again. 

"If this goes on much longer, " thought he, "the Colonel's ghost willbreak my nose with a blow of his fist, or give me a pair of black eyes!"

A little later, it occurred to him that he had breakfasted very hastilythat morning, and he reflected that the nightmare had perhaps beenbrought about by such dieting. 

He got off at the next five-minute stopping-place and called for soup. Some very hot vermicelli was brought him, and he blew into his bowl likea dolphin into the Bosphorus. 

A man passed before him, without jostling him, without saying anythingto him, without even seeing him. And nevertheless, the bowl dropped fromthe hands of the rich Nicholas Meiser, the vermicelli poured over hiswaistcoat and shirt-bosom, where it formed an elegant fretworksuggestive of the architecture of the _porte Saint Martin_. Someyellowish threads, detached from the mass, hung in stalactites from thebuttons of his coat. The vermicelli stopped on the outside, but the souppenetrated much further. It was rather warm for pleasure; an egg left init ten minutes would have been boiled hard. Fatal soup, which not onlydistributed itself among the pockets, but into the most secretsinuosities of the man himself! The starting bell rang, the waitercollected his two sous, and Meiser got into the cars, preceded by aplaster of vermicelli, and followed by a little thread of soup which wasrunning down the calves of his legs. 

And all of this, because he had seen, or thought he had seen, theterrible figure of Colonel Fougas eating sandwiches. 

Oh! how long the trip seemed! What a terrible time it appeared to bebefore he could be at home, between his wife Catharine and his servantBerbel, with all the doors safely closed! His two companions laughedtill the buttons flew; people laughed in the compartment to the right ofhim, and in the compartment to the left of him. As fast as he picked offthe vermicelli, little spots of soup saucily congealed and seemedquietly laughing. How hard it comes to a great millionnaire to amusepeople who do not possess a cent! He did not get off again until theyreached Dantzic; he did not even put his nose to the window; he suckedsolitary consolation from his porcelain pipe, on which Leda caressed herswan and smiled not. 

Wearisome, wearisome journey! But he did reach home nevertheless. It waseight o'clock in the evening; the old domestic was waiting with ropes tosling his master's trunk on his back. No more alarming figures, no moremocking laughs! The history of the soup was fallen into the greatforgotten, like one of M. Heller's speeches. In the baggage room, Meiserhad already seized the handle of a black leather trunk, when, at theother end, he saw the spectre of Fougas, which was pulling in theopposite direction, and seemed inclined to dispute possession. Hebristled up, pulled stronger, and even plunged his left hand into thepocket where the revolver was lying. But the luminous glance of theColonel fascinated him, his legs trembled, he fell, and fancied that hesaw Fougas and the black trunk rolling over each other. When he came to, his old servant was chafing his hands, the trunk already had the slingsaround it, and the Colonel had disappeared. The domestic swore that hehad not seen anybody, and that he had himself received the trunk fromthe baggage agent's own hand. 

Twenty minutes later, the millionnaire was in his own house, joyfullyrubbing his face against the sharp angles of his wife. He did not dareto tell her about his visions, for Frau Meiser was a skeptic, in her ownway. It was she who spoke to him about Fougas. 

"A whole history has happened to me, " said she. "Would you believe thatthe police have written to us from Berlin, to find out whether our uncleleft us a mummy, and when, and how long we kept him, and what we havedone with him? I answered, telling the truth, and adding that ColonelFougas was in such a bad condition, and so damaged by mites, that wesold him for rags. What object can the police have in troublingthemselves about our affairs?"

Meiser heaved a heavy sigh. 

"Let's talk about money!" said the lady. "The president of the bank hasbeen to see me. The million you asked him for, for to-morrow, is ready;it will be delivered upon your signature. It seems that they've had adeal of trouble to get the amount in specie. If you had but wanteddrafts on Vienna or Paris, you would have put them at their ease. Butat last they've done what you wanted. There's no other news, except thatSchmidt, the merchant, has killed himself. He had to pay a note for tenthousand thalers, and didn't have half the amount on hand. He came toask me for the money; I offered him ten thousand thalers, at twenty-fiveper cent. , payable in ninety days, with a first mortgage on all his realestate. The fool preferred to hang himself in his shop. Everyone to histaste!"

"Did he hang himself very high?"

"I don't know anything about that. Why?"

"Because one might get a piece of rope cheap, and we're greatly in wantof some, my poor Catharine! That Colonel Fougas has given me a shiver. "

"Some more of your notions! Come to supper, my love. "

"Come on!"

The angular Baucis conducted her Philemon into a large and beautifuldining-room, where Berbel served a repast worthy of the gods. Soup withlittle balls of aniseeded bread, fish-balls with black sauce, mutton-balls stuffed, game balls, sour-krout cooked in lard andgarnished with fried potatoes, roast hare with currant jelly, deviledcrabs, salmon from the Vistula, jellies, and fruit tarts. Six bottles ofRhine-wine selected from the best vintages were awaiting, in theirsilver caps, the master's kiss. But the lord of all these good thingswas neither hungry nor thirsty. He ate by nibbles and drank by sips, allthe time expecting a grand consummation, which he did not have toexpect along. A formidable rap of the knocker soon resounded through thehouse. 

Nicholas Meiser trembled. His wife tried to reassure him. "It'snothing, " said she. "The president of the bank told me that he wascoming to see you. He offers to pay us the exchange, if we'll take paperinstead of specie. "

"It _is_ about money, sure as Fate!" cried the good man. "Hell itself iscoming to see us!"

At the same instant, the servant rushed into the room, crying, "Oh, Sir!Oh, Madame! It's the Frenchman of the three coffins! Jesus! Mary, Motherof God!"

Fougas saluted them, and said, "Don't disturb yourselves, good people, Ibeg of you. We've a little matter to discuss together, and I'm ready toexplain it to you in two words. You're in a hurry, so am I; you've nothad supper, neither have I!"

Frau Meiser, more rigid and more emaciated than a thirteenth-centurystatue, opened wide her toothless mouth. Terror paralyzed her. The man, better prepared for the visit of the phantom, cocked his revolver underthe table and took aim at the Colonel, crying "_Vade retro, Satanas!_"The exorcism and the pistol missed fire together. 

Meiser was not at all discouraged: he snapped the six barrels one afterthe other at the demon, who stood watching him do it. Not one went off. 

"What devilish game is that you're playing?" said the Colonel, seatinghimself astride a chair. "People are not in the habit of receiving anhonest man's visit with that ceremony!"

Meiser flung down his revolver, and grovelled like a beast at Fougas'feet. His wife, who was not one whit more tranquil, followed him. Theyjoined hands, and the fat man exclaimed:

"Spirit! I confess my misdeeds, and I am ready to make reparation forthem. I have sinned against you; I have violated my uncle's commands. What do you wish? What do you command? A tomb? A magnificent monument?Prayers? Endless prayers?"

"Idiot!" said Fougas, spurning him with his foot; "I am no spirit, and Iwant nothing but the money you've robbed me of!"

Meiser kept rolling on the floor; but his scrawny wife was already onher feet, her fists on her hips, and facing Fougas. 

"Money!" cried she, "But we don't owe you any! Have you any documents?Just show us our signature! Where would one be, Just God! if we had togive money to all the adventurers who present themselves? And in thefirst place, by what right did you thrust yourself into our dwelling, ifyou're not a spirit? Ah! you're a man just the same as other people! Ha!ha! So you're not a ghost! Very well, sir; there are judges in Berlin;there are some in the country, too, and we'll soon see whether you'regoing to finger our money! Get up there, you great booby; it's only aman! And do you, Mister Ghost, get out of here! Off with you!"

The Colonel did not budge more than a rock. 

"The devil's in women's tongues! Sit down, old lady, and take your handsaway from my eyes--they bother me. And as for you, swell-head, get on toyour chair, and listen to me. There will be time enough to go to law ifwe can't come to an understanding. But stamped paper stinks in mynostrils; and therefore I'd rather settle peaceably. "

Herr and Frau Meiser repressed their first emotion. They distrustedmagistrates, as do all people without clean consciences. If the Colonelwas a poor devil who could be put off with a few thalers, it would bebetter to avoid legal proceedings. 

Fougas stated the case to them with entire military bluntness. He provedthe existence of his right, said that he had had his identitysubstantiated at Fontainebleau, Paris, and Berlin; cited from memory twoor three passages of the will, and finished by declaring that thePrussian Government, in conjunction with that of France, would supporthis just claims if necessary. 

"You understand clearly, " said he, taking Meiser by the button of hiscoat, "that I am no fox, depending on cunning. If you had a wristvigorous enough to swing a good sabre, we'd take the field against eachother, and I'd play you for the amount, first two cuts out of three, assurely as that's soup before you!"

"Fortunately, monsieur, " said Meiser, "my age shields me from allbrutality. You would not wish to trample under foot the corpse of an oldman!"

"Venerable scoundrel! But you would have killed me like a dog, if yourpistol had not missed fire!"

"It was not loaded, Monsieur Colonel! It was not----anywhere nearloaded! But I am an accommodating man, and we can come to terms veryeasily. I don't owe you anything, and, moreover, there's prescription;but after all----how much do you want?"

"He has had his say: now it's my turn!"

The old rascal's mate softened the tone of her voice. Imagine toyourself a saw licking a tree before biting in. 

"Listen, Claus, my dear--listen to what Monsieur Colonel Fougas has tosay. You'll see that he is reasonable! It's not in him to think ofruining poor people like us. Oh, Heavens! he is not capable of it. Hehas such a noble heart! Such a disinterested man! An officer worthy ofthe great Napoleon (God receive his soul!). "

"That's enough, old lady!" said Fougas, with a curt gesture which cutthe speech off in the middle. "I had an estimate made at Berlin of whatis due me--principal and interest. "

"Interest!" cried Meiser. "But in what country, in what latitude, dopeople pay interest on money? Perhaps it may sometimes happen inbusiness, but between friends--never, no never, my good MonsieurColonel! What would my good uncle, who is now gazing upon us fromheaven, say, if he knew that you were claiming interest on his bequest?"

"Now shut up, Nickle!" interrupted his wife. "Monsieur Colonel is justabout telling you, himself, that he did not intend to be understood asspeaking of the interest. "

"Why in the name of great guns don't you both shut up, you confoundedmagpies? Here I am dying of hunger, and I didn't bring my nightcap to goto bed here, either!---- Now here's the upshot of the matter: You owe mea great deal; but it's not an even sum--there are fractions in it, and Igo in for clean transactions. Moreover, my tastes are modest. I'veenough for my wife and myself; nothing more is needed than to providefor my son!"

"Very well, " cried Meiser; "I'll charge myself with the education of thelittle fellow!"

"Now, during the dozen days since I again became a citizen of the world, there is one word that I've heard spoken everywhere. At Paris, as wellas at Berlin, people no longer speak of anything but millions; there isno longer any talk of anything else, and everybody's mouth is full ofmillions. From hearing so much said about it, I've acquired a curiosityto know what it is. Go, fetch me out a million, and I'll give youquittance!"

If you want to reach an approximate idea of the piercing cries whichanswered him, go to the _Jardin des Plantes_ at the breakfast hour ofthe birds of prey, and try to pull the meat out of their beaks. Fougasstopped his ears and remained inexorable. Prayers, arguments, misrepresentations, flatteries, cringings, glanced off from him likerain from a zinc roof. But at ten o'clock at night, when he hadconcluded that all concurrence was impossible, he took his hat:

"Good evening!" said he. "It's no longer a million that I must have, buttwo millions, and all over. We'll go to law. I'm going to supper. "

He was on the staircase, when Frau Meiser said to her husband:

"Call him back, and give him his million!"

"Are you a fool?"

"Don't be afraid. "

"I can never do it!"

"Father in heaven! what blockheads men are! Monsieur! Monsieur Fougas!Monsieur Colonel Fougas! Come up again, I pray you! We consent to allthat you require!"

"Damnation!" said he, on reëntering; "you ought to have made up yourminds sooner. But after all, let's see the money!"

Frau Meiser explained to him with her tenderest voice, that poorcapitalists like themselves, were not in the habit of keeping millionsunder their own lock and key. 

"But you shall lose nothing by waiting, my sweet sir! To-morrow youshall handle the amount in nice white silver; my husband will sign you acheck on the Royal Bank of Dantzic. "

"But----, " said the unfortunate Meiser. He signed, nevertheless, for hehad boundless confidence in the practical ingenuity of Catharine. Theold lady begged Fougas to sit down at the end of the table, and dictatedto him a receipt for two millions, in payment of all demands. You maydepend that she did not forgot a word of the legal formulas, and thatshe arranged the affair in due form according to the Prussian code. Thereceipt, written throughout in the Colonel's hand, filled three largepages. 

He signed the instrument with a flourish, and received in exchange thesignature of Nicholas, which he knew well. 

"Well, " said he to the old gentleman, "you're certainly not such an Arabas they said you were at Berlin. Shake hands, old scamp! I don't usuallyshake hands with any but honest people; but on an occasion like this, one can do a little something extra. "

"Do it double, Monsieur Fougas, " said Frau Meiser, humbly. "Will you notjoin us in this modest supper?"

"Gad! old lady, it's not a thing to be refused. My supper must be coldat the inn of the 'Clock'; and your viands, smoking on their chafingdishes, have already caused me more than one fit of distraction. Besides, here are some yellow glass flutes, on which Fougas will not beat all reluctant to play an air. "

The respectable Catharine had an extra plate laid, and ordered Berbel togo to bed. The Colonel folded up Father Meiser's million, rolled itcarefully among a pile of bank-bills, and put the whole into the littlepocket-book which his dear Clementine had sent him. 

The clock struck eleven. 

At half-past eleven Fougas began to see everything in a rosy cloud. Hepraised the Rhine wine highly, and thanked the Meisers for theirhospitality. At midnight, he assured them of his highest esteem. Atquarter past twelve, he embraced them. At half-past twelve, he delivereda eulogy on the illustrious John Meiser, his friend and benefactor. Whenhe learned that John Meiser had died in that house, he poured forth atorrent of tears. At quarter to one, he assumed a confidential tone, andspoke of his son, whom he was going to make happy, and of the betrothedwho was waiting for him. About one o'clock, he tasted a celebrated portwine which Frau Meiser had herself gone to bring from the cellar. Abouthalf-past one, his tongue thickened and his eyes grew dim; he struggledsome time against drunkenness and sleepiness, announced that he wasgoing to describe the Russian campaign, muttered the name of theEmperor, and slid under the table. 

"You may believe me, if you will, " said Frau Meiser to her husband, "this is not a man who has come into our house; it's the devil!"

"The devil!"

"If not, would I have advised you to give him a million? I heard a voicesaying to me, 'If you do not obey the messenger of the Infernal powers, you will both die this very night. ' It was on account of that, that Icalled him up stairs. Ah! if we had been doing business with a man, Iwould have told you to contest it in law to our last cent. "

"As you please! So you're still making sport of my visions?"

"Forgive me, Claus dear; I was a fool!"

"And I've concluded I was, too. "

"Poor innocent! Perhaps you too thought this was Colonel Fougas?"

"Certainly!"

"As if it were possible to resuscitate a man! It is a demon, I tell you, who assumed the shape of the Colonel, to rob us of our money!"

"What can demons do with money?"

"Build cathedrals, to be sure!"

"But how is the devil to be recognized when he is disguised?"

"First by his cloven-foot--but this one has boots on; next by hisclipped ear. "

"Bah! And why?"

"Because the devil's ears are pointed, and, in order to make them round, he has to cut them. "

Meiser stuck his head under the table and uttered a cry of horror. 

"It's certainly the devil!" said he. "But how did he happen to lethimself go to sleep?"

"Perhaps you did not know that when I came back from the cellar, Idropped into my chamber? I put a drop of holy water into the Port; charmagainst charm, and he is fallen. "

"That's splendid! But what shall we do with him, now that we have him inour power?"

"What is done with demons in Scripture? The Saviour throws them into thesea. "

"The sea is a long way from here. "

"But, you big baby, the public wells are just by!"

"And what will be said to-morrow, when the body is found?"

"Nothing at all will be found; and even the check that we signed, willbe turned into tinder. "

Ten minutes later, Herr and Frau Meiser were lugging something towardthe public wells, and soon dame Catharine murmured, _sotto voce_, thefollowing incantation:

"Demon, child of hell, be thou accursed!

"Demon, child of hell, be thou dashed headlong down!

"Demon, child of hell, return to hell!"

A dull sound--the sound of a body falling into water, terminated theceremony, and the two spouses returned to their domicil, with thesatisfaction that always follows the performance of a duty. 

Nicholas said to himself:

"I didn't think she was so credulous!"

"I didn't think he was so simple!" thought the worthy Kettle, weddedwife of Claus. 

They slept the sleep of innocence. Oh, how much less soft their pillowswould have seemed, if Fougas had gone home with his million!

At ten o'clock the next morning, while they were taking their coffee andbuttered rolls, the president of the bank called in, and said to them:

"I am greatly obliged to you for having accepted a draft on Parisinstead of a million in specie, and without premium, too. That youngFrenchman you sent to us is a little brusque, but very lively, and agood fellow. "

CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE COLONEL TRIES TO RELIEVE HIMSELF OF A MILLION WHICH INCUMBERS HIM. 

Fougas had left Paris for Berlin the day after his audience. He tookthree days to make the trip, because he stopped some time at Nancy. TheMarshal had given him a letter of introduction to the Prefect ofMeurthe, who received him very politely, and promised to aid him in hisinvestigations. Unfortunately, the house where he had loved ClementinePichon was no longer standing. The authorities had demolished it in1827, in cutting a street through. It is certain that the commissionershad not demolished the family with the house, but a new difficulty allat once presented itself: the name of Pichon abounded in the city, thesuburbs, and the department. Among this multitude of Pichons, Fougas didnot know which one to hug. Tired of hunting, and eager to hasten forwardon, the road to fortune, he left this note for the commissioner ofpolice:

"Search, on the registers of personal statistics and elsewhere, for ayoung girl named Clementine Pichon. She was eighteen years old in 1813;her parents kept an officers' boarding-house. If she is alive, get heraddress; if she is dead, look up her heirs. A father's happiness dependsupon it!"

On reaching Berlin, the Colonel found that his reputation had precededhim. The note from the Minister of War had been sent to the PrussianGovernment through the French legation; Leon Renault, despite his grief, had found time to write a word to Doctor Hirtz; the papers had begun totalk, and the scientific societies to bestir themselves. The PrinceRegent, even, had not disdained to ask information on the subject fromhis physician. Germany is a queer country, where science interests thevery princes. 

Fougas, who had read Doctor Hirtz's letter annexed to Herr Meiser'swill, thought that he owed some acknowledgments to that excellentgentleman. He made a call upon him, and embraced him, addressing him asthe oracle of Epidaurus. The doctor at once took possession of him, hadhis baggage brought from the hotel and gave him the best chamber in hishouse. Up to the 29th day of the month, the Colonel was cared for as afriend, and exhibited as a phenomenon. Seven photographers disputed thepossession of so precious a sitter. The cities of Greece did no more forour poor old Homer. His Royal Highness, the Prince Regent, wished to seehim _in propriâ personâ_, and begged Herr Hirtz to bring him to thepalace. Fougas scratched his ear a little, and intimated that a soldierought not to associate with the enemy, seeming to think himself still in1813. 

The Prince is a distinguished soldier, having commanded in person at thefamous siege of Rastadt. He took pleasure in Fougas' conversation; theheroic simplicity of the young old-time soldier charmed him. He paid himhuge compliments and said that the Emperor of France was very fortunatein having around him officers of so much merit. 

"He has not a great many, " replied the Colonel. "If there were but fouror five hundred of my stamp, your Europe would have been bagged longago!"

This answer seemed more amusing than threatening, and no addition wasimmediately made to the available portion of the Prussian army. 

His Royal Highness directly informed Fougas that his indemnity had beenfixed at two hundred and fifty thousand francs, and that he couldreceive the amount at the treasury whenever he should find it agreeable. 

"My Lord, " replied he, "it is always agreeable to pocket the money of anenemy--a foreigner. But wait! I am not a censor-bearer to Plutus:give me back the Rhine and Posen, and I'll leave you your two hundredand fifty thousand francs. "

"Are you dreaming?" said the Prince, laughing. "The Rhine and Posen!"

"The Rhine belongs to France, and the Posen to Poland, much morelegitimately than this money to me. But so it is with great lords: theymake it a duty to pay little debts, and a point of honor to ignore bigones!"

The Prince winced a little, and all the faces of the court gave asympathetic twitch. It was discovered that M. Fougas had evinced badtaste in letting a crumb of truth fall into a big plateful of follies. 

But a pretty little Viennese baroness, who was at the presentation, wasmuch more charmed with his appearance than scandalized at his remarks. The ladies of Vienna have made for themselves a reputation forhospitality which they always attempt to support, even when they areaway from their native land. 

The baroness of Marcomarcus had still another reason for getting hold ofthe Colonel: for two or three years she had, as a matter of course, beenmaking a photographic collection of celebrated men. Her album waspeopled with generals, statesmen, philosophers, and pianists, who hadgiven their portraits to her, after writing on the back: "With respectsof----" There were to be found there several Roman prelates, and even acelebrated cardinal; but a more direct envoy from the other world wasstill wanting. She wrote Fougas, then, a note full of impatience andcuriosity, inviting him to supper. Fougas, who was going to start forDantzic next day, took a sheet of paper embossed with a great eagle, andset to work to excuse himself politely. He feared--the delicate andchivalrous soul!--that an evening of conversation and enjoyment in thesociety of the loveliest women of Germany might be a sort of moralinfidelity to the recollection of Clementine. He accordingly hunted upan eligible formula of address, and wrote:

"Too indulgent Beauty, I----" The muse dictated nothing more. He was notin the mood for writing. He felt rather more in the mood for supper. Hisscruples scattered like clouds driven before a brisk North East wind; heput on the frogged surtout, and carried his reply himself. It was thefirst time that he had been out to supper since his resuscitation. Hegave evidence of a good appetite, and got moderately drunk, but not asmuch so as usual. The Baroness de Marcomarcus, astonished at his highspirits and inexhaustible vivacity, kept him as long as she could. Andmoreover she said to her friends, on showing them the Colonel'sportrait, "Nothing is needed but these French officers to conquer theworld!"

The next day he packed a black leather trunk which he had bought atParis, drew his money from the treasury, and set out for Dantzic. Hewent to sleep in the cars because he had been out to supper the nightbefore. A terrible snoring awoke him. He looked around for the snorer, and, not finding him near him, opened the door into the adjoiningcompartment (for the German cars are much larger than the French), andshook a fat gentleman, who seemed to have a whole organ playing in hisperson. At one of the stations he drank a bottle of Marsala and ate acouple of dozen sandwiches, for last night's supper seemed to havehollowed out his stomach. At Dantzic, he rescued his black trunk fromthe hands of an enormous baggage-snatcher who was trying to takepossession of it. 

He went to the best hotel in the place, ordered his supper, and hastenedto Meiser's house. His friends at Berlin had given him accounts of thatcharming family. He knew that he would have to deal with the richest andmost avaricious of sharpers: that was why he assumed the cavalier tonethat may have seemed strange to more than one reader in the precedingchapter. 

Unhappily, he let himself become a little too human as soon as he hadhis million in his pocket. A curiosity to investigate the long yellowbottles all the way to the bottom, came near doing him an ugly turn. Hisreason wandered, about one o'clock in the morning, if I am to believethe account he himself gave. He said that, after saying "good night" tothe excellent people who had treated him so well, he tumbled into alarge and deep well, whose rim was hardly raised above the level of thestreet, and ought at least to have had a lamp by it. "I came to" (it isstill he speaking) "in water, very fresh and of a pleasant taste. Afterswimming around a minute or two, looking for a firm place to take holdof, I seized a big rope, and climbed without any trouble to the surfaceof the earth, which was not more than forty feet off. It requirednothing but wrists and a little gymnastic skill, and was not much of afeat, anyhow. On getting on to the pavement, I found myself in thepresence of a sort of night watchman, who was bawling the hours throughthe street, and who asked me insolently what I was doing there. Ithrashed him for his impudence, and the gentle exercise did me good, asit set my blood well in circulation again. Before getting back to theinn, I stopped under a street lamp, opened my pocket-book, and saw withpleasure that my million was not wet. The leather was thick, and theclasp firm; moreover, I had enveloped Herr Meiser's check in ahalf-dozen hundred-franc bills, in a roll as fat as a monk. Thesesurroundings had preserved it. "

This examination being made, he went home, went to bed, and slept withhis fists clenched. The next morning he received, on getting up, thefollowing memoranda, which came from the Nancy police:

"Clementine Pichon, aged eighteen, minor daughter of Auguste Pichon, hotel-keeper, and Leonie Francelot, was married, in this town, January11, 1814, to Louis Antoine Langevin; profession not stated. 

"The name of Langevin is as rare in this department, as the name ofPichon is common. With the exception of the Hon. M. Victor Langevin, Counsellor to the Prefecture at Nancy, there is only known Langevin(Pierre), usually called Pierrot, miller in the commune of Vergaville, canton of Dieuze. "

Fougas jumped nearly to the ceiling, crying, "I have a son!"

He called the hotel-keeper, and said to him:

"Make out my bill, and send my baggage to the depot. Take my ticket forNancy; I shall not stop on the way. Here are two hundred francs, withwhich I want you to drink to the health of my son! He is called Victor, after me! He is counsellor of the Prefecture! I'd rather he were asoldier; but never mind! Ah! first get somebody to show me the way tothe bank! I must go and get a million for him!"

As there is no direct connection between Dantzic and Nancy, he wasobliged to stop at Berlin. M. Hirtz, whom he met accidentally, told himthat the scientific societies of the city were preparing an immensebanquet in his honor; but he declined positively. 

"It's not, " said he, "that I despise an opportunity to drink in goodcompany, but Nature has spoken: her voice draws me on! The sweetestintoxication to all rightly constituted hearts is that of paternallove!"

To prepare, his dear child for the joy of a return so little expected, he enclosed his million in an envelope addressed to M. Victor Langevin, with a long letter which closed thus:

 "A father's blessing is more precious than all the gold in the world!

 "VICTOR FOUGAS. "

The infidelity of Clementine Pichon touched his _amour-propre_ a little, but he soon consoled himself for it. 

"At least, " thought he, "I'll not have to marry an old woman, whenthere's a young one waiting for me at Fontainebleau. And, moreover, myson has a name, and a very presentable name. Fougas would be a greatdeal better, but Langevin is not bad. "

He arrived, on the 2d of September, at six o'clock in the evening, atthat large and beautiful but somewhat stupid city which constitutes theVersailles of Lorraine. His heart was beating fit to burst. Torecuperate his energies, he took a good dinner. The landlord, whencatechized at dessert, gave him the very best accounts of M. VictorLangevin: a man still young, married for the past six years, father of aboy and a girl, respected in the neighborhood, and prosperous in hisaffairs. 

"I was sure of it!" said Fougas. 

He poured down a bumper of a certain kirsch-wasser from the BlackForest, which he fancied delicious with his maccaroni. 

The same evening, M. Langevin related to his wife how, on returning fromthe club at ten o'clock, he had been brutally accosted by a drunken man. He at first took him for a robber, and prepared to defend himself; butthe man contented himself with embracing him, and then ran away with allhis might. This singular accident threw the two spouses into a series ofconjectures, each less probable than the preceding. But as they wereboth young, and had been married barely seven years, they soon changedthe subject. 

The next morning, Fougas, laden down like a miller's ass with bon-bons, presented himself at M. Langevin's. In order to make himself welcome tohis two grandchildren, he had skimmed the shop of the celebratedLebègue--the Boissier of Nancy. The servant who opened the door for himasked if he were the gentleman her master expected. 

"Good!" said he; "my letter has come?"

"Yes, sir; yesterday morning. And your baggage?"

"I left it at the hotel. "

"Monsieur will not be satisfied at that. Your room is ready, up stairs. "

"Thanks! thanks! thanks! Take this hundred franc note for the goodnews. "

"Oh, monsieur! it was not worth so much. "

"But where is he? I want to see him--to embrace him--to tell him----"

"He's dressing, monsieur; and so is madame. "

"And the children--my dear grandchildren?"

"If you want to see them, they're right here, in the dining room. "

"If I want to! Open the door right away!"

He discovered that the little boy resembled him, and was overjoyed tosee him in the dress of an artillerist playing with a sabre. His pocketswere soon emptied on the floor; and the two children, at the sight of somany good things, hung about his neck. 

"O philosophers!" cried the Colonel, "do you dare to deny the existenceof the voice of Nature?"

A pretty little lady (all the young women are pretty in Nancy) ran in atthe joyous cries of the little brood. 

"My daughter-in-law!" cried Fougas, opening his arms. 

The lady of the house modestly recoiled, and said, with a slight smile:

"You are mistaken, sir; I am not your daughter-in-law;[9] I am MadameLangevin. "

"What a fool I am!" thought the Colonel. "Here I was going to tell ourfamily secrets before these children. Mind your manners, Fougas! You arein fine society, where the ardor of the sweetest sentiments is hiddenunder the icy mask of indifference. "

"Be seated, " said Mme. Langevin. "I hope that you have had a pleasantjourney?"

"Yes, madame. Only steam seemed too slow for me!"

"I did not know that you were in such a hurry to get here. "

"You did not, then, appreciate that I was fairly burning to be withyou?"

"I am glad to hear it; it is a proof that Reason and Family Affectionhave made themselves heard at last. "

"Was it my fault that family ties did not speak effectually sooner?"

"Well, after all, the main thing is that you have listened to them. Wewill exert ourselves to prevent your finding Nancy uninteresting. "

"How could I, since I am to live with you?"

"Thank you! Our house will be yours. Try to imagine yourself entirely athome. "

"In imagination, and affection too, madame. "

"And you'll not think of Paris again?"

"Paris!---- I don't care any more for it than I do for doomsday!"

"I forewarn you that people are not in the habit of fighting duelshere. "

"What? You know already----"

"We know all about it, even to the history of that famous supper withthose rather volatile ladies. "

"How the devil did you hear of that? But that time, believe me, I wasvery excusable. "

M. Langevin here made his appearance, freshly shaven and rubicund--afine specimen of the sub-prefect in embryo. 

"It's wonderful, " thought Fougas, "how well all our family bear theiryears! One wouldn't call that chap over thirty-five, and he's forty-sixif he's a day. He doesn't look a bit like me, by the way; he takes afterhis mother!"

"My dear!" said Mme. Langevin, "here's a tough subject, who promises tobe wiser in future. "

"You are welcome, young man!" said the Counsellor, offering his hand toFougas. 

This reception appeared cold to our poor hero. He had been dreaming of ashower of kisses and tears, and here his children contented themselveswith offering their hands. 

"My chi---- monsieur, " said he to Langevin, "there is one person stillneeded to complete our reunion. A few mutual wrongs, and those smoothedover by time, ought not to build an insurmountable barrier between us. May I venture to request the favor of being presented to your mother?"

M. Langevin and his wife opened their eyes in astonishment. 

"How, monsieur?" said the husband. "Paris life must have affected yourmemory. My poor mother is no more. It is now three years since we losther!"

The good Fougas burst into tears. 

"Forgive me!" said he; "I didn't know it. Poor woman!"

"I don't understand you! You knew my mother?"

"Ingrate!"

"Why, you're an amusing fellow! But your parents were invited to thefuneral, were they not?"

"Whose parents?"

"Your father and mother!"

"Eh! What's this you're cackling to me about? My mother was dead beforeyours was born!"

"Your mother dead?"

"Yes, certainly; in '89!"

"What! Wasn't it your mother who sent you here?"

"Monster! It was my fatherly heart that brought me!"

"Fatherly heart?---- Why, then you're not young Jamin, who has beencutting up didoes in the capital, and has been sent to Nancy to gothrough the Agricultural School?"

The Colonel answered with the voice of Jupiter tonans:

"I am Fougas!"

"Very well!"

"If Nature says nothing to you in my behalf, ungrateful son, questionthe spirit of your mother!"

"Upon my soul, sir, " cried the Counsellor, "we can play at crosspurposes a good while! Sit down there, if you please, and tell me yourbusiness--Marie, take away the children. "

Fougas did not require any urging. He detailed the romance of his life, without omitting anything, but with many delicate touches for the filialears of M. Langevin. The Counsellor heard him patiently, with anappearance of perfect disinterestedness. 

"Monsieur, " said he, at last, "at first I took you for a madman; but nowI remember that the newspapers have contained some scraps of yourhistory, and I see that you are the victim of a mistake. I am notforty-six years old, but thirty-four. My mother's name was notClementine Pichon, but Marie Herval. She was not born at Nancy, but atVannes, and she was but seven years old in 1813. Nevertheless, I amhappy to make your acquaintance. "

"Ah! you're not my son!" replied Fougas, angrily. "Very well! So muchthe worse for you! No one seems to want a father of the name of Fougas!As for sons by the name of Langevin, one only has to stoop to pick themup. I know where to find one who is not a Counsellor of the Prefecture, it is true, and who does not put on a laced coat to go to mass, but whohas an honest and simple heart, and is named Pierre, just like me! But, I beg your pardon, when one shows gentlemen the door, one ought at leastto return what belongs to them. "

"I don't prevent your collecting the bon-bons which my children havescattered over the floor. "

"Yes, I'm talking about bon-bons with a vengeance! My million, sir!"

"What million?"

"Your brother's million!---- No! The million that belongs to him who isnot your brother--to Clementine's son, my dear and only child, the onlyscion of my race, Pierre Langevin, called Pierrot, a miller atVergaville!"

"But I assure you, monsieur, that I haven't your million, or anybody'selse. "

"You dare to deny it, scoundrel, when I sent it to you by mail, myself!"

"Possibly you sent it, but I certainly have not received it!"

"Aha! Defend yourself!"

He made at his throat, and perhaps France would have lost a Counsellorof Prefecture that day, if the servant had not come in with two lettersin her hand. Fougas recognized his own handwriting and the Berlinpostmark, tore open the envelope, and displayed the check. 

"Here, " said he, "is the million I intended for you, if you had seen fitto be my son! Now it's too late for you to retract. The voice of Naturecalls me to Vergaville. Your servant, sir!"

On the 4th of September, Pierre Langevin, miller at Vergaville, celebrated the marriage of Cadet Langevin, his second son. The miller'sfamily was numerous, respectable, and in comfortable circumstances. First, there was the grandfather, a fine, hale old man, who took hisfour meals a day, and doctored his little ailings with the wine of Baror Thiaucourt. The grandmother, Catharine, had been pretty in her day, and a little frivolous; but she expiated by absolute deafness the crimeof having listened too tenderly to gallants. M. Pierre Langevin, aliasPierrot, alias Big Peter, after having sought his fortune in America (acustom becoming quite general in the rural districts), had returned tothe village in pretty much the condition of the infant Saint John, andGod only knows how many jokes were perpetrated over his ill luck. Thepeople of Lorraine are terrible wags, and if you are not fond ofpersonal jokes, I advise you not to travel in their neighborhood. BigPeter, stung to the quick, and half crazed at having run through hisinheritance, borrowed money at ten per cent. , bought the mill atVergaville, worked like a plough-horse in heavy land, and repaid hiscapital and the interest. Fortune, who owed him some compensations, gave him _gratis pro Deo_, a half dozen superb workers--six big boys, whom his wife presented him with, one annually, as regularly asclock-work. Every year, nine months, to a day, after the _fête_ ofVergaville, Claudine (otherwise known as Glaudine) presented one forbaptism. At last she died after the sixth, from eating four huge piecesof _quiche_ before her churching. Big Peter did not marry again, havingconcluded that he had workers enough, and he continued to add to hisfortune nicely. But, as standing jokes last a long time in villages, themiller's comrades still spoke to him about those famous millions whichhe did not bring back from America, and Big Peter grew very red underhis flour, just as he used to in his earlier days. 

On the 4th of September, then, he married his second son to a good bigwoman of Altroff, who had fat and blazing cheeks: this being a kind ofbeauty much affected in the country. The wedding took place at the mill, because the bride was orphaned of father and mother, and had previouslylived with the nuns of Molsheim. 

A messenger came and told Pierre Langevin that a gentleman wearingdecorations had something to say to him, and Fougas appeared in all hisglory. "My good sir, " said the miller, "I am far from being in a mood totalk business, as we just took a good pull at white wine before mass;but we are going to drink some red wine that's by no means bad, atdinner, and if your heart prompts you, don't be backward! The table isa long one. We can talk afterwards. You don't say no? Then that's yes. "

"For once, " thought Fougas, "I am not mistaken. This is surely the voiceof Nature! I would have liked a soldier better, but this genial rustic, so comfortably rounded, satisfies my heart. I cannot be indebted to himfor many gratifications of my pride; but never mind! I am sure of _his_good-will. "

Dinner was served, and the table more heavily laden with viands than thestomach of Gargantua. Big Peter, as proud of his big family as of hislittle fortune, made the Colonel stand by as he enumerated his children. And Fougas was joyful at learning that he had six welcome grandchildren. 

He was seated at the right of a little stunted old woman who waspresented to him as the grandmother of the youngsters. Heavens! howchanged Clementine appeared to him. Save the eyes which were stilllively and sparkling, there was no longer anything about her that couldbe recognized. "See, " thought Fougas, "what I would have been liketo-day, if the worthy John Meiser had not desiccated me!" He smiled tohimself on regarding Grandfather Langevin, the reputed progenitor ofthis numerous family. "Poor old fellow, " murmured Fougas, "you littlethink what you owe to me!"

They dine boisterously at village weddings. This is an abuse which, Isincerely hope, Civilization will never reform. Under cover of thenoise, Fougas entered into conversation, or thought he did, with hisleft-hand neighbor. "Clementine!" he said to her. She raised her eyes, and her nose too, and responded:

"Yes, monsieur. "

"My heart has not deceived me, then?--you are indeed my Clementine!"

"Yes, monsieur. "

"And you have recognized me, noble and excellent woman!"

"Yes, monsieur. "

"But how did you conceal your emotion so well?---- How strong womenare!---- I fall from the skies into the midst of your peacefulexistence, and you see me without moving a muscle!"

"Yes, monsieur. "

"Have you forgiven me for a seeming injury for which Destiny alone isresponsible?"

"Yes, monsieur. "

"Thanks! A thousand thanks!---- What a charming family you have aboutyou! This good Pierre, who almost opened his arms on seeing me approach, is my son, is he not?"

"Yes, monsieur. "

"Rejoice! He shall be rich! He already has happiness; I bring himfortune. His portion shall be a million. Oh, Clementine! what acommotion there will be in this simple assembly, when I raise my voiceand say to my son: 'Here! this million is for you!' Is it a good timenow? Shall I speak? Shall I tell all?"

"Yes, monsieur. "

Fougas immediately arose, and requested silence. The people thought hewas going to sing a song, and all kept quiet. 

"Pierre Langevin, " said he with emphasis, "I have come back from theother world, and brought you a million. "

If Big Peter did not want to get angry, he at least got red, and thejoke seemed to him in bad taste. But when Fougas announced that he hadloved the grandmother in her youth, grandfather Langevin no longerhesitated to fling a bottle at his head. The Colonel's son, his splendidgrandchildren, and even the bride all jumped up in high dudgeon andthere was a very pretty scrimmage indeed. 

For the first time in his life, Fougas did not get the upper hand. Hewas afraid that he might injure some of his family. Paternal affectionrobbed him of three quarters of his power. 

But having learned during the clamor that Clementine was calledCatharine, and that Pierre Langevin was born in 1810, he resumed theoffensive, blacked three eyes, broke an arm, mashed two noses, knockedin four dozen teeth, and regained his carriage with all the honors ofwar. 

"Devil take the children!" said he, while riding in a post-chaise towardthe Avricourt station. "If I have a son, I wish he may find me!"

CHAPTER XIX. 

HE SEEKS AND BESTOWS THE HAND OF CLEMENTINE. 

On the fifth of September, at ten o'clock in the morning, Leon Renault, emaciated, dejected and scarcely recognizable, was at the feet ofClementine Sambucco in her aunt's parlor. There were flowers on themantel and flowers in all the vases. Two great burglar sunbeams brokethrough the open windows. A million of little bluish atoms were playingin the light, crossing each other and getting fantastically mixed up, like the ideas in a volume of M. Alfred Houssaye. In the garden, theapples were falling, the peaches were ripe, the hornets were ploughingbroad, deep furrows in the _duchesse_ pears; the trumpet-flowers andclematis-vines were in blossom, and to crown all, a great mass ofheliotropes, trained over the left window, was flourishing in all itsbeauty. The sun had given all the grapes in the arbor a tint of goldenbronze; and the great Yucca on the lawn, shaken by the wind like aChinese hat, noiselessly clashed its silver bells. But the son of M. Renault was more pale and haggard than the white lilac sprays, moreblighted than the leaves on the old cherry-tree; his heart was withoutjoy and without hope, like the currant bushes without leaves and withoutfruit!

To be exiled from his native land, to have lived three years in aninhospitable climate, to have passed so many days in deep mines, so manynights over an earthenware stove in the midst of an infinity of bugs anda multiplicity of serfs, and to see himself set aside for atwenty-five-louis Colonel whom he himself had brought to life by soakinghim in water!

All men are subject to disappointments, but surely never had oneencountered a misfortune so unforeseen and so extraordinary. Leon knewthat Earth is not a valley flowing with chocolate and soup _à la reine_. He knew the list of the renowned unfortunates beginning with Abel slainin the garden of Paradise, and ending with Rubens assassinated in thegallery of the Louvre at Paris. But history, which seldom instructs us, never consoles us. The poor engineer in vain repeated to himself that athousand others had been supplanted on the day before marriage, and ahundred thousand on the day after. Melancholy was stronger than Reason, and three or four soft locks were beginning to whiten about his temples. 

"Clementine!" said he, "I am the most miserable of men. In refusing methe hand which you have promised, you condemn me to agony a hundredtimes worse than death. Alas! What would you have me become without you?I must live alone, for I love you too well to marry another. For fourlong years, all my affections, all my thoughts have been centred uponyou; I have become accustomed to regard other women as inferior beings, unworthy of attracting the interest of a man! I will not speak to you ofthe efforts I have made to deserve you; they brought their reward inthemselves, and I was already too happy in working and suffering foryou. But see the misery in which your desertion has left me! A sailorthrown upon a desert island has less to deplore than I: I will be forcedto live near you, to witness the happiness of another, to see you passmy windows upon the arm of my rival! Ah! death would be more endurablethan this constant agony. But I have not even the right to die! My poorold parents have already sorrows enough. What would it be, Great God! ifI were to condemn them to bear the loss of their son?"

This complaint, punctuated with sighs and tears, lacerated the heart ofClementine. The poor child wept too, for she loved Leon with her wholesoul, but she was interdicted from telling him so. More than once, onseeing him half dying before her, she felt tempted to throw her armsabout his neck, but the recollection of Fougas paralyzed all her tenderimpulses. 

"My poor friend, " said she, "you judge me very wrongfully if you thinkme insensible to your sufferings. I have known you thoroughly, Leon, and that too since my very childhood. I know all that there is in youof devotion, delicacy and precious and noble virtues. Since the timewhen you carried me in your arms to the poor, and put a penny in my handto teach me to give alms, I have never heard benevolence spoken ofwithout involuntarily thinking of you. When you whipped a boy twice yoursize for taking away my doll, I felt that courage was noble and that awoman would be happy in being able to lean on a brave man. All that Ihave ever seen you do since that time, has only redoubled my esteem andmy sympathy. Believe me that it is neither from wickedness oringratitude that I make you suffer now. Alas! I no longer belong tomyself, I am under external control; I am like those automatons thatmove without knowing why. Yes, I feel an impulse within me more powerfulthan my self control, and it is the will of another that leads me. "

"If I could but be sure that you will be happy! But no! This man, beforewhom you immolate me, will never know the worth of a soul as delicate asyours. He is a brute, a swash-buckler, a drunkard. "

"I beseech you, Leon, remember that he has a right to my unreservedrespect!"

"Respect! For him! And why? I ask of you, in Heaven's name, what youfind respectable in the character of Mister Fougas? His age? He isyounger than I. His talents? He never shows them anywhere but at thetable. His education? It's lovely! His virtues? _I_ know what is to bethought of his refinement and gratitude!"

"I have respected him, Leon, since I first saw him in his coffin. It isa sentiment stronger than all else; I cannot explain it, I can butsubmit to it. "

"Very well! Respect him as much as you please! Yield to the superstitionthat enchains you. See in him a miraculous being, consecrated, rescuedfrom the grip of Death to accomplish something great on earth! But thisitself, Oh my dear Clementine, is a barrier between you and him! IfFougas is outside of the conditions of humanity, if he is a phenomenon, a being apart, a hero, a demigod, a fetich, you cannot seriously thinkof becoming his wife. As for me, I am but a man like others, born towork, to suffer and to love. I love you! Love me!"

"Scoundrel!" cried Fougas, opening the door. 

Clementine uttered a cry, Leon sprung up quickly, but the Colonel hadalready seized him by the most practicable part of his nankeen suit, before he had even time to think of a single word in reply. The engineerwas lifted up, balanced like an atom in one of the sunbeams, and flunginto the very midst of the heliotropes. Poor Leon! Poor heliotropes!

In less than a second, the young man was on his feet. He dusted theearth from his knees and elbows, approached the window, and said in acalm but resolute voice: "Mister Colonel, I sincerely regret havingbrought you back to life, but possibly the folly of which I have beenguilty is not irreparable. I hope soon to have an opportunity to findout if it be! As for you, Mademoiselle, I love you!"

The Colonel shrugged his shoulders and put himself at the young girl'sfeet on the very cushion which still bore the impression left by Leon. Mlle. Virginie Sambucco, attracted by the noise, came down stairs likean avalanche and heard the following conversation. 

"Idol of a great soul! Fougas returns to thee like the eagle to hiseyrie. I have long traversed the world in pursuit of rank, fortune andfamily which I was burning to lay at thy feet. Fortune has obeyed me asa slave: she knows in what school I learned the art of controlling her. I have gone through Paris and Germany like a victorious meteor led byits star. I have everywhere associated as an equal with the powers ofEarth, and made the trumpet of truth resound in the halls of kings. Ihave put my foot on the throat of greedy Avarice, and snatched from hima part, at least, of the treasures which he had stolen fromtoo-confiding Honor. One only blessing is denied me: the son I hoped tosee has escaped the lynx-eyes of paternal love. Neither have I found theancient object of my first affections. But what matters it? I shall feelthe want of nothing, if you fill for me the place of all. What do wewait for now? Are you deaf to the voice of Happiness which calls you?Let us go to the temple of the laws, then you shall follow me to thefoot of the altar; a priest shall consecrate our bonds, and we will gothrough life leaning on one another, I like the oak sustaining weakness, thou like the graceful ivy ornamenting the emblem of strength. "[10]

Clementine remained a few moments without answering, as if stunned bythe Colonel's vehement rhetoric. "Monsieur Fougas, " she said to him, "Ihave always obeyed you, I promise to obey you all my life. If you do notwish me to marry poor Leon, I will renounce him. I love him devotedly, nevertheless, and a single word from him arouses more emotion in myheart than all the fine things you have said to me. "

"Good! Very good!" cried the Aunt. "As for me, sir, although you havenever done me the honor to consult me, I will tell you my opinion. Myniece is not at all the woman to suit you. Were you richer than M. DeRothschild and more illustrious than the Duke of Malakoff, I would notadvise Clementine to marry you. "

"And why, chaste Minerva?"

"Because you would love her fifteen days, and then, at the first soundof cannon, be off to the wars! You would abandon her, sir, just as youdid that unhappy Clementine whose misfortunes have been recounted tous!"

"Zounds! Lady Aunt! I _do_ advise you to bestow your pity on _her_!Three months after Leipzic, she married a fellow named Langevin atNancy. "

"What do you say?"

"I say that she married a military commissary named Langevin. "

"At Nancy?"

"At that identical town. "

"This is strange!

"It's outrageous!

"But this woman--this young girl--her name?

"I've told you a hundred times: Clementine!"

"Clementine what?

"Clementine Pichon. "

"Gracious Heavens! My keys! Where are my keys? I'm sure I put them in mypocket! Clementine Pichon! M. Langevin! It's impossible! My senses areforsaking me! Come, my child, bestir yourself! The happiness of yourwhole life is concerned. Where _did_ you poke my keys? Ah! Here theyare!"

Fougas bent over to Clementine's ear, and said:

"Is she subject to these attacks? One, would suppose that the poor oldgirl had lost her head!"

But Virginie Sambucco had already opened a little rosewood secretary. Her unerring glance discovered in a file of papers, a sheet yellow withage. 

"I've got it!" said she with a cry of joy. "Marie Clementine Pichon, legitimate daughter of August Pichon, hotel keeper, _rue des Merlettes_, in this town of Nancy; married June 10th, 1814, to Joseph Langevin, military sub-commissary. Is it surely she, Monsieur? Dare to say itisn't she!"

"Well! But how do you happen to have my family papers?"

"Poor Clementine! And you accuse her of unfaithfulness! You do notunderstand then that you had been taken for dead! That she supposedherself a widow without having been a wife; that--"

"It's all right! It's all right! I forgive her. Where is she? I want tosee her, to embrace her, to tell her--"

"She is dead, Monsieur! She died three months after she was married, "

"Ah! The Devil!"

"In giving birth to a daughter--"

"Where is my daughter? I'd rather have had a son, but never mind! Whereis she? I want to see her, to embrace her, to tell her--"

"Alas! She is no more! But I can conduct you to her tomb. "

"But how the Devil did you know her?"

"Because she married my brother!"

"Without my consent? But never mind! At least she left some children, didn't she?"

"Only one. "

"A son! He is my grandson!"

"A daughter. "

"Never mind! She is my granddaughter! I'd rather have had a grandson, but where is she? I want to see her, to embrace her, to tell her--"

"Embrace away, Monsieur! Her name is Clementine: after her grandmother, and there she is!"

"She! That accounts for the resemblance! But then I can't marry her!Never mind! Clementine! Come to my arms! Embrace your grandfather!"

The poor child had not been able entirely to comprehend this rapidconversation, from which events had been falling like tiles, upon thehead of the Colonel. She had always heard M. Langevin spoken of as hermaternal grandfather, and now she seemed to hear that her mother was thedaughter of Fougas. But she knew at the first words, that it was nolonger possible for her to marry the Colonel, and that she would soon bemarried to Leon Renault. It was, therefore, from an impulse of joy andgratitude that she flung herself into the arms of the young-old man. 

"Ah, Monsieur!" said she, "I have always loved and respected you like agrandfather!"

"And I, my poor child, have always behaved myself like an old beast! Allmen are brutes, and all women are angels. You divined with the delicateinstinct of your sex, that you owed me respect, and I, fool that I am, didn't divine anything at all! Whew! Without the venerable Aunt there, I'd have made a pretty piece of work!"

"No, " said the aunt. "You would have found out the truth in going overour family papers. "

"Would that I could have seen them and nothing more! Just to think thatI went off to seek my heirs in the department of Meurthe, when I hadleft my family in Fontainebleau! Imbecile! Bah! But never mind. Clementine! You shall be rich, you shall marry the man you love! Whereis he, the brave boy? I want to see him, to embrace him, to tell him--"

"Alas, Monsieur; you just threw him out of the window. "

"I? Hold on, it _is_ true. I had forgotten all about it. Fortunatelyhe's not hurt, and I'll go at once and make amends for my folly. Youshall get married when you want to; the two weddings shall come offtogether. --But in fact, no! What am I saying? I shall not marry now! Itwill all be well soon, my child, my dear granddaughter. MademoiselleSambucco you're a model aunt; embrace me!"

He ran to M. Renault's house, and Gothon, who saw him coming, ran downto shut him out. 

"Ain't you ashamed of yourself, " said she, "to act this way with them asbrought you to life again? Ah! If it had to be done over again! Wewouldn't turn the house upside down again for the sake of your fineeyes! Madame's crying, Monsieur is tearing his hair, M. Leon has justbeen sending two officers to hunt you up. What have you been at againsince morning?"

Fougas gave her a twirl on her feet and found himself face to face withthe engineer. Leon had heard the sound of a quarrel, and on seeing theColonel excited, with flashing eyes, he expected some brutal aggressionand did not wait for the first blow. A struggle took place in thepassage amid the cries of Gothon, M. Renault and the poor old lady, whowas screaming: "Murder!" Leon wrestled, kicked, and from time to timelaunched a vigorous blow into the body of his antagonist. He had tosuccumb, nevertheless; the Colonel finished by upsetting him on theground and holding him there. Then he kissed him on both cheeks and saidto him:

"Ah! You naughty boy! Now I'm pretty sure to make you listen to me! I amClementine's grandfather, and I give her to you in marriage, and you canhave the wedding to-morrow if you want to! Do you hear? Now get up, anddon't you punch me in the stomach any more. It would be almostparricide!"

Mlle. Sambucco and Clementine arrived in the midst of the generalstupefaction. They completed the recital of Fougas, who had gottenhimself pretty badly mixed up in the genealogy. Leon's seconds appearedin their turn. They had not found the enemy in the hotel where he hadtaken up his quarters, and came to give an account of their mission. Atableau of perfect happiness met their astonished gaze, and Leon invitedthem to the wedding. 

"My friends, " said Fougas, "you shall see undeceived Nature bless thechains of Love. "

CHAPTER XX. 

A THUNDERBOLT FROM A CLEAR SKY. 

 "Mlle. Virginie Sambucco has the honor to announce to you the marriage of Mlle. Clementine Sambucco, her niece, to M. Leon Renault, civil engineer. 

 "M. And Mme. Renault have the honor to announce to you the marriage of M. Leon Renault, their son, to Mlle. Clementine Sambucco;

 "And invite you to be present at the nuptial benediction which will be given them on the 11th of September, 1859, in the church of Saint Maxcence, in their parish, at eleven o'clock precisely. "

Fougas absolutely insisted that his name should figure on the cards. They had all the trouble in the world to cure him of this whim. Mme. Renault lectured him two full hours. She told him that in the eyes ofsociety, as well as in the eyes of the law, Clementine was thegranddaughter of M. Langevin; that, moreover, M. Langevin had acted veryliberally in legitimizing by marriage, a daughter that was not his own;finally, that the publication of such a family secret would be anoutrage against the sanctity of the grave and would tarnish the memoryof poor Clementine Pichon. The Colonel answered with the warmth of ayoung man, and the obstinacy of an old one:

"Nature has her rights; they are anterior to the conventions of society, and a thousand times more exalted. The honor of her I called my Ægle, isdearer to me than all the treasures of the world, and I would cleave thesoul of any rash being who should attempt to tarnish it. In yielding tothe ardor of my vows, she but conformed to the custom of a great epochwhen the uncertainty of life and the constant existence of warsimplified all formalities. And in conclusion, I do not wish that mygrandchildren, yet to be born, should be ignorant that the source oftheir blood is in the veins of Fougas. Your Langevin is but an intruderwho covertly slipped into my family. A commissary! It's almost a sutler!I spurn under foot the ashes of Langevin!"

His obstinacy would not yield to the arguments of Mme. Renault, but itsuccumbed to the entreaties of Clementine. The young creole twisted himaround her finger with irresistible grace. 

"My good Grandpa this, my pretty little Grandpa that; my old baby of aGrandpa, we'll send you off to college if you're not reasonable!"

She used to seat herself familiarly on Fougas' knee, and give him littlelove pats on the cheeks. The Colonel would assume the gruffest possiblevoice, and then his heart would overflow with tenderness, and he wouldcry like a child. 

These familiarities added nothing to the happiness of Leon Renault; Ieven think that they slightly tempered his joy. Yet he certainly did notdoubt either the love of his betrothed or the honor of Fougas. He wasforced to admit that between a grandfather and his granddaughter suchlittle liberties are natural and proper and could justly offend no one. But the situation was so new and so unusual that he needed a little timeto adapt his feelings to it, and forget his chagrin. This grandfather, for whom he had paid five-hundred francs, whose ear he had broken, forwhom he had bought a burial-place in the Fontainebleau cemetery: thisancestor younger than himself, whom he had seen drunk, whom he had foundagreeable, then dangerous, then insupportable: this venerable head ofthe family who had begun by demanding Clementine's hand and ended bypitching his future grandson into the heliotropes, could not all at onceobtain unmingled respect and unreserved affection. 

M. And Mme. Renault exhorted their son to submission and deference. Theyrepresented M. Fougas to him as a relative who ought to be treated withconsideration. 

"A few days of patience!" said the good mother. "He will not stay withus long; he is a soldier and can't live out of the army any better thana fish out of water. "

But Leon's parents, in the bottom of their hearts, held a bitterremembrance of so many pangs and mortifications. Fougas had been thescourge of the family; the wounds which he had made could not heal overin a day. Even Gothon bore him ill will without confessing it. Sheheaved great sighs while preparing for the wedding festivities at Mlle. Sambucco's. 

"Ah! my poor Célestin!" said she to her acolyte. "What a little rascalof a grandfather we're going to have to be sure!"

The only person who was perfectly at ease was Fougas. He had passed thesponge over his pranks; out of all the evil he had done, he retained noill will against any one. Very paternal with Clementine, very graciouswith M. And Mme. Renault, he evinced for Leon the most frank and cordialfriendship. 

"My dear boy, " said he to him, "I have studied you, I know you, and Ilove you thoroughly; you deserve to be happy, and you shall be. Youshall soon see that in buying me for twenty-five napoleons, you didn'tmake a bad bargain. If gratitude were banished from the universe, itwould find a last abiding place in the heart of Fougas!"

Three days before the marriage, M. Bonnivet informed the family that thecolonel had come into his office to ask for a conference about thecontract. He had scarcely cast his eyes on the sheet of stamped paper, when Rrrrip! it was in pieces in the fireplace. 

"Mister Note-scratcher, " he said, "do me the honor of beginning your_chef-d'oeuvre_ over again. The granddaughter of Fougas does not marrywith an annuity of eight thousand francs. Nature and Friendship give hera million. Here it is!"

Thereupon he took from his pocket a bank check for a million, paced thestudy proudly, making his boots creak, and threw a thousand-franc noteon a clerk's desk, crying in his clearest tones:

"Children of the Law! Here's something to drink the health of theEmperor and the Grand Army with!"

The Renault family strongly remonstrated against this liberality. Clementine, on being told of it by her intended, had a long discussion, in the presence of Mlle. Sambucco, with the young and terriblegrandpapa; she tried to impress upon him that he was but twenty-fouryears old, that he would be getting married some day, and that hisproperty belonged to his future family. 

"I do not wish, " said she, "that your children should accuse me ofhaving robbed them. Keep your millions for my little uncles and aunts!"

But for once, Fougas would not yield an inch. 

"Are you mocking me?" he said to Clementine. "Do you think that I willbe guilty of the folly of marrying now? I do not promise you to livelike a monk of La Trappe, but at my age, a man put together like I amcan find enough to talk to around the garrisons without marryinganybody. Mars does not borrow the torch of Hymen to light the littleaberrations of Venus! Why does man ever tie himself in matrimonialbonds?. . . For the sake of being a father. I am one already, in thecomparative degree, and in a year, if our brave Leon does a man's part, I shall assume the superlative. Great-grandfather! That's a lovelyposition for a trooper twenty-five years old! At forty-five or fifty, Ishall be great-great-grandfather. At seventy . . . The French language hasno more words to express what I shall become! But we can order one fromthose babblers of the Academy! Are you afraid that I'll want foranything in my old age? I have my pay, in the first place, and myofficer's cross. When I reach the years of Anchises or Nestor, I willhave my halt-pay. Add to all this the two hundred and fifty thousandfrancs from the king of Prussia, and you shall see that I have not onlybread, but all essential fixings in the bargain, up to the close of mycareer. Moreover, I have a perpetual grant, for which your husband haspaid in advance, in the Fontainebleau cemetery. With all thesepossessions, and simple tastes, one is sure not to eat up one'sresources!"

Willing or unwilling, they had to concede all he required and accept hismillion. This act of generosity made a great commotion in the town, andthe name of Fougas, already celebrated in so many ways, acquired a newprestige. The signature of the bride was attested by the Marshal theDuke of Solferino and the illustrious Karl Nibor, who but a few daysbefore had been elected to the Academy of Sciences. Leon modestlyretained the old friends whom he had long since chosen, M. Audret thearchitect, and M. Bonnivet the notary. 

The Mayor was brilliant in his new scarf. The _curé_ addressed to theyoung couple an affecting allocution on the inexhaustible goodness ofProvidence, which still occasionally performs a miracle for the benefitof true Christians. Fougas, who had not discharged his religious dutiessince 1801, soaked two handkerchiefs with tears. 

"One must always part from those nearest the heart, " said he on goingout of church. "But God and I are made to understand each other! Afterall, what is God but a little more universal Napoleon!"

A Pantagruelic feast, presided over by Mlle. Virginie Sambucco in adress of puce-colored silk, followed immediately upon the marriageceremony. Twenty-four persons were present at this family _fête_, amongothers the new colonel of the 23d and M. Du Marnet, who was almost wellof his wound. 

Fougas took up his napkin with a certain anxiety. He hoped that theMarshal had brought his brevet as brigadier general. His expressivecountenance manifested lively disappointment at the empty plate. 

The Duke of Solferino, who had been seated at the place of honor, noticed this physiognomical display, and said aloud:

"Don't be impatient, my old comrade! I know what you miss; it was not myfault that the _fête_ was not complete. The minister of war was outwhen I dropped in on my way here. I was told however, at the department, that your affair was kept in suspense by a technical question, but thatyou would receive a letter from the office within twenty-four hours. "

"Devil take the documents!" cried Fougas. "They've got them all, from mybirth-certificate, down to the copy of my brevet colonel's commission. You'll find out that they want a certificate of vaccination or some suchsix-penny shinplaster!"

"Oh! Patience, young man! You've time enough to wait. It's not such acase as mine: without the Italian campaign, which gave me a chance tosnatch the baton, they would have slit my ear like a condemned horse, under the empty pretext that I was sixty-five years old. You're not yettwenty-five, and you're on the point of becoming a brigadier: theEmperor promised it to you before me. In four or five years from now, you'll have the gold stars, unless some bad luck interferes. After whichyou'll need nothing but the command of an army and a successful campaignto make you Marshal of France and Senator, which may nothing prevent!"

"Yes, " responded Fougas; "I'll reach it. Not only because I am theyoungest of all the officers of my grade, and because I have been in themightiest of wars and followed the lessons of the master of Bellona'sfields, but above all because Destiny has marked me with her sign. Whydid the bullets spare me in more than twenty battles? Why have I spedover oceans of steel and fire without my skin receiving a scratch? It isbecause I have a star, as _He_ had. His was the grander, it is true, butit went out at St. Helena, while mine is burning in Heaven still! IfDoctor Nibor resuscitated me with a few drops of warm water, it wasbecause my destiny was not yet accomplished. If the will of the Frenchpeople has re-established the imperial throne, it was to furnish me aseries of opportunities for my valor, during the conquest of Europewhich we are about to recommence! _Vive l'Empereur_, and me too! I shallbe duke or prince in less than ten years, and . . . Why not? One might tryto be at roll-call on the day when crowns are distributed! In that case, I will adopt Clementine's oldest son: we will call him Pierre VictorII. , and he shall succeed me on the throne just as Louis XV. Succeededhis grandfather Louis XIV. !"

As he was finishing this wonderful speech, a _gendarme_ entered thedining room, asked for Colonel Fougas, and handed him a letter from theMinister of War. 

"Gad!" cried the Marshal, "it would be pleasant to have your promotionarrive at the end of such a discourse. For once, we would prostrateourselves before your star! The Magi kings would be nowhere comparedwith us. "

"Read it yourself, " said he to the Marshal, holding out to him thegreat sheet of paper. "But no! I have always looked Death in the face; Iwill not turn my eyes away from this paper thunder if it is killing me. 

 "COLONEL:

 "In preparing the Imperial decree which elevated you to the rank of brigadier general, I found myself in the presence of an insurmountable obstacle: viz. , your certificate of birth. It appears from that document that you were born in 1789, and that you have already passed your seventieth year. Now, the limit of age being fixed at sixty years for colonels, sixty-two for brigadier generals and sixty-five for generals of division, I find myself under the absolute necessity of placing you upon the retired list with the rank of colonel. I know, Monsieur, how little this measure is justified by your apparent age, and I sincerely regret that France should be deprived of the services of a man of your capacity and merit. Moreover, it is certain that an exception in your favor would arouse no dissatisfaction in the army and would meet with nothing but sympathetic approval. But the law is express, and the Emperor himself cannot violate or elude it. The impossibility resulting from it is so absolute that if, in your ardor to serve the country, you were willing to lay aside your epaulettes for the sake of beginning upon a new career, your enlistment could not be received in a single regiment of the army. It is fortunate, Monsieur, that the Emperor's government has been able to furnish you the means of subsistence in obtaining from His Royal Highness the Regent of Prussia the indemnity which was due you; for there is not even an office in the civil administration in which, even by special favor, a man seventy years old could be placed. You will very justly object that the laws and regulations now in force date from a period when experiments on the revivification of men had not yet met with favorable results. But the law is made for the mass of mankind, and cannot take any account of exceptions. Undoubtedly attention would be directed to its amendment if cases of resuscitation were to present themselves in sufficient number. 

 "Accept, &c. "

A gloomy silence succeeded the reading. The _Mene mene tekel upharsin_of the oriental legends could not have more completely produced theeffect of thunderbolts. The _gendarme_ was still there, standing in theposition of the soldier without arms, awaiting Fougas' receipt. TheColonel called for pen and ink, signed the paper, gave the _gendarme_drink-money, and said to him with ill-suppressed emotion:

"You are happy, you are! No one prevents you from serving the country. Well, " added he, turning toward the Marshal, "what do you say to that?"

"What would you have me say, my poor old boy? It breaks me all up. There's no use in arguing against the law; it's express. The stupidthing on our parts was not to think of it sooner. But who the Devilwould have thought of the retired list in the presence of such a fellowas you are?"

The two colonels avowed that such an objection would never have enteredtheir heads; now that it had been suggested, however, they could not seewhat to rebut it with. Neither of them would have been able to enlistFougas as a private soldier, despite his ability, his physical strengthand his appearance of being twenty-four years old. 

"If some one would only kill me!" cried Fougas. "I can't set myself toweighing sugar or planting cabbages. It was in the career of arms that Itook my first steps; I must continue in it or die. What can I do? Whatcan I become? Take service in some foreign army? Never! The fate ofMoreau is still before my eyes. . . . Oh Fortune! What have I done to theethat I should be dashed so low, when thou wast preparing to raise me sohigh?"

Clementine tried to console him with soothing words. 

"You shall live near us, " said she. "We will find you a pretty littlewife, and you can rear your children. In your leisure moments you canwrite the history of the great deeds you have done. You will want fornothing: youth, health, fortune, family, all that makes up thehappiness of men, is yours. Why then should you not be happy?"

Leon and his parents talked with him in the same way. Everythingappertaining to the festive occasion was forgotten in the presence of anaffliction so real and a dejection so profound. 

He roused himself little by little, and even sang, at dessert, a littlesong which he had prepared for the occasion. 

 Here's a health to these fortunate lovers Who, on this thrice blessed day, Have singed with the torch of chaste Hymen, The wings with which Cupid doth stray. And now, little volatile boy-god, You must keep yourself quiet at home-- Enchained there by this happy marriage Where Genius and Beauty are one. 

 He'll make it, henceforth, his endeavor To keep Pleasure in Loyalty's power, Forgetting his naughty old habit Of roaming from flower to flower. And Clementine makes the task easy, For roses spring up at her smile: From thence the young rascal can steal them As well as in Venus's isle. 

The verses were loudly applauded, but the poor Colonel smiled sadly, talked but little, and did not get fuddled at all. The man with thebroken ear could not at all console himself for having a slit ear. [11]He took part in the various diversions of the day, but was no longerthe brilliant companion who had inspired everything with his impetuousgayety. 

The Marshal buttonholed him during the evening and said: "What are youthinking about?"

"I'm thinking of the old messmates who were happy enough to fall atWaterloo with their faces toward the enemy. That old fool of a Dutchmanwho preserved me for posterity, did me but a sorry service. I tell you, Leblanc, a man ought to live in his own day. Later is too late. "

"Oh, pshaw, Fougas, don't talk nonsense! There's nothing desperate inthe case. Devil take it! I'll go to see the Emperor to-morrow. Thematter shall be looked into. It will all be set straight. Men like you!Why France hasn't got them by the dozen that she should fling them amongthe soiled linen. "

"Thanks! You're a good old boy, and a true one. There were five hundredthousand of us, of the same, same sort, in 1812; there are but two left;say, rather, one and a half. "

About ten o'clock in the evening, M. Rollon, M. Du Marnet and Fougasaccompanied the Marshal to the cars. Fougas embraced his comrade andpromised him to be of good cheer. After the train left, the threecolonels went back to town on foot. In passing M. Rollon's house, Fougassaid to his successor:

"You're not very hospitable to-night; you don't even offer us a pony ofthat good Andaye brandy!"

"I thought you were not in drinking trim, " said M. Rollon. "You didn'ttake anything in your coffee or afterwards. But come up!"

"My thirst has come back with a vengeance. "

"That's a good symptom. "

He drank in a melancholy fashion, and scarcely wet his lips in hisglass. He stopped a little while before the flag, took hold of thestaff, spread out the silk, counted the holes that cannon balls andbullets had made in it, and could not repress his tears. "Positively, "said he, "the brandy has taken me in the throat; I'm not a man to-night. Good evening, gentlemen. "

"Hold on! We'll go back with you. "

"Oh, my hotel is only a step. "

"It's all the same. But what's your idea in staying at a hotel when youhave two houses in town at your service?"

"On the strength of that, I am going to move to-morrow. "

The next morning, about eleven o'clock, the happy Leon was at his toiletwhen a telegram was brought to him. He opened it without noticing thatit was addressed to M. Fougas, and uttered a cry of joy. Here is thelaconic message which brought him so much pleasure:

 "To Colonel Fougas, Fontainebleau. 

 "Just left the Emperor. You to be brevet brigadier until something better turns up. If necessary, _corps legislatif_ will amend law. 

 "LEBLANC. "

Leon dressed himself, ran to the hotel of the blue sundial, and foundFougas dead in his bed. 

It is said in Fontainebleau, that M. Nibor made an autopsy, and foundthat serious disorders had been produced by desiccation. Some people arenevertheless satisfied that Fougas committed suicide. It is certain thatMaster Bonnivet received, by the penny post, a sort of a will, expressedthus:

 "I leave my heart to my country, my memory to natural affection, my example to the army, my hate to perfidious Albion, fifty thousand francs to Gothon, and two hundred thousand to the 23d of the line. And forever _Vive l'Empereur!_

 "FOUGAS. "

Resuscitated on the 17th of August, between three and four in theafternoon, he died on the 17th of the following month, at what hour weshall never know. His second life had lasted a little less thanthirty-one days. But it is simple justice to say that he made good useof his time. He reposes in the spot which young Renault had bought forhim. His granddaughter Clementine left off her mourning about a yearsince. She is beloved and happy, and Leon will have nothing to reproachhimself with if she does not have plenty of children. 

_Bourdonnel, August_, 1861. 

FINIS. 

NOTES

TO

THE MAN WITH THE BROKEN EAR. 

NOTE 1, page 69. --_Black butterflies_, a French expression that we mighttastefully substitute for _blue devils_. 

NOTE 2, page 72. --_The 15th of August_ is the Emperor's birthday. 

NOTE 3, page 85. --_Centigrade_, of course. 

NOTE 4, page 101. --Fougas' surprise is explained by the well-known factthat Napoleon was obliged to forbid the playing of _Partant pour laSyrie_ in his armies, on account of the homesickness and consequentdesertion it occasioned. 

NOTE 5, page 118. --_Jeu de Paume_ (tennis-court), is the name given tothe meeting of the third-estate (_tiers-état_) in 1789, from thelocality where it took place. 

NOTE 6, page 161. --The English used by the two young noblemen is M. About's own. It is certainly such English as Frenchmen would be apt tospeak, and it is as fair to attribute that fact to M. About's fine senseof the requirements of the occasion, as to lack of familiarity with ourlanguage. 

NOTE 7, page 164. --It is not without interest to note that M. About usedthe English word _gentlemen_. 

NOTE 8, page 166. --_War against tyrants! Never, never, never shall theBriton reign in France!_

NOTE 9, page 214. --The original here contains a neat little conceit, which cannot be translated, but which is too good to be lost. The Frenchfor daughter-in-law is _belle fille_, literally "beautiful girl. " ToFougas' address "_Ma belle fille!_" Mme. Langevin replies: "_I am notbeautiful, and I am not a girl. _" It suggests the similar retortreceived by Faust from Marguerite, when he addressed her as _beautifulyoung lady!_

NOTE 10, page 230. --The Translator has intentionally used both thesingular and the plural of the second person in Fougas' apostrophe toClementine, as it seemed to him naturally required by the variations ofthe sentiment. 

NOTE 11, page 248. --The reader will bear in mind Marshal Leblanc'sallusion to condemned horses.