The Mysteries Of Paris Volume Vi Part 23

"Because I'm half wild with delight; I seem to have got into another world,--such a lightness has come over me. A little while ago my hat used to seem as though loaded with lead, and as if it pressed forwards in spite of me; now I seem as though borne on the breeze towards the firmament, to think that he is gone--actually set out--and never to return!"

"Yes, the blackguard is off at last!" chimed in Madame Pipelet.

"Anastasie," cried her husband, "spare the absent! Happiness calls for mercy and forbearance on our parts. I will obey its dictates, and merely allow myself to remark that Cabrion was a--a--worthless scoundrel!"

"But how do you know that he has gone to Germany?" inquired Rigolette.

"By a friend of our 'king of lodgers.' Talking of that dear man, you haven't heard that, owing to the handsome manner in which he recommended us, Alfred has been appointed house-porter to a sort of charitable bank, established in our house by a worthy Christian, who wishes, like M.

Rodolph, to do all the good he can?"

"Ah!" replied Rigolette. "And, perhaps, you don't know, either, that my dear Germain is appointed manager of this same bank? All owing to the kind intervention of M. Rodolph."

"Well, I never!" exclaimed Madame Pipelet, "all our good luck comes together; and I'm sure I'm heartily glad we shall keep old friends and acquaintances around us. I hate fresh faces, for my part. I'm certain I would not change my old duck of a husband even for your young handsome one, Madame Germain.

"But to go back to Cabrion. Only imagine a bald-headed, stout, elderly gentleman, coming to tell us of Alfred's new situation, and at the same time inquiring if a talented artist of the name of Cabrion did not once lodge in the house with us. Oh, my poor darling! Directly Cabrion's name was mentioned down went the boot he was mending, and if I had not caught him he would have swooned away. But, fortunately, the bald gentleman added, 'This young painter has been engaged by a very wealthy person to do some work, which will occupy him for years, and he may, very probably, establish himself in another country.' In confirmation of which the old gentleman gave my Alfred the date of Cabrion's departure, with the address of the office from which he started."

"And I had the unhoped-for satisfaction of reading on the ticket, 'M.

Cabrion, artist in painting, departs for Strasburg, and further, by the company's diligence.' The hour named was for this morning. I need not say I was in the inn yard with my wife."

"And there we saw the rascal take his seat on the box beside the driver."

"Just as the vehicle was set in motion Cabrion perceived me, turned around, and cried,'Yours for ever! I go to return no more.' Thank heaven! The loud blast of the guard's horn nearly drowned these familiar and insulting words, as well as any others he might have intended to utter. But I pity and forgive the wretched man,--I can afford to be generous, for I am delivered from the bane and misery of my life."

"Depend upon it, M. Pipelet," said Rigolette, endeavouring to restrain a loud fit of laughter,--"depend upon it, you will see him no more. But listen to me, and I will tell you something I am sure you are ignorant of and which it will be almost difficult for you to credit. What do you think of our M. Rodolph not being what we took him for, but a prince in disguise,--a royal highness!"

"Go along with you!" said Anastasie. "That is a joke!"

"Oh, but really," cried Rigolette, "I am not joking; it is as true as--as--that I am married to my dear Germain."

"Goodness gracious me!" exclaimed Anastasie. "My king of lodgers a royal highness! Oh, dear, here's a pretty go! And I asked him to mind the lodge for me. Oh, pardon! Pardon! Pardon!" And then, carried away by the excess of her reverence and regret for having so undervalued a prince, though a disguised one, Madame Pipelet placed her cap on her head, as though she imagined herself in the presence of royalty.

Alfred, on the contrary, manifested his respect for royalty in a manner diametrically the reverse of the form adopted by his wife. s.n.a.t.c.hing off his hat, that hat which had never before been seen to quit his head, he commenced bowing to empty s.p.a.ce, as though standing in the presence of the august personage he apostrophised, while he exclaimed, "Have I, then, been honoured by a visit from royalty? Has my poor lodge been so far favoured? And to think of his ill.u.s.trious eyes having seen me in my bed, when driven thither by the vile conduct of Cabrion!"

At this moment Madame Georges, turning around, cried out:

"My children, the doctor comes."

Doctor Herbin, the individual alluded to, was a man of about the middle age, with a countenance expressive of great kindness and benevolence, united to extreme skill and penetration in discovering the extent of malady with which his unfortunate patients were affected. His voice, naturally harmonious, a.s.sumed a tone of gentle suavity when he spoke to the poor lunatics; who, however bereft of reason, seemed always to listen with peculiar delight to his soft, soothing words, which frequently had the effect of subduing the invariable irritability attendant on this fearful complaint. M. Herbin had been among the first to subst.i.tute, in his treatment of madness, sympathy and commiseration for the frightful remedies ordinarily employed. He abandoned the coercive system, so repugnant to every principle of humanity, for kind words, conciliating looks, and a ready attention to every request that could reasonably be granted. He banished chains, whips, drenching with cold water, and even solitary confinement, except in cases of urgent necessity.

"Monsieur," said Madame Georges, addressing the doctor, "I have ventured hither with my son and daughter, although personally unknown to M.

Morel; but my interest in his unfortunate state made me desirous of witnessing the experiment you are about to make to restore his reason.

You have every hope of succeeding, have you not?"

"I certainly reckon much, madame, on the good effects likely to be produced by the sight of his daughter and the persons he has been in the constant habit of seeing."

"When my husband was arrested," said Morel's wife, pointing to Rigolette, "our kind young friend here was nursing me and my children."

"And my father knew M. Germain quite well," said Louise; then directing the attention of M. Herbin to Alfred and Anastasie, she added, "Monsieur and madame here were porters at the house, and a.s.sisted our family to the utmost of their ability."

"I am greatly obliged to you, my worthy friend," said the doctor, addressing Alfred, "for quitting your occupation to come hither; but I see by your amiable countenance that you have cheerfully sacrificed your time to visit your poor lodger here."

"Sir-r!" replied Pipelet, gravely bowing. "Men should help each other in this sublunary world, and remember that all are brothers; added to which your unfortunate patient was the very cream and essence of an honest man, and therefore do I respect him."

"If you are not afraid, madame," said Doctor Herbin to Madame Georges, "of the sight of the poor creatures here, we will cross some of the yards leading to that part of the building where I have deemed it advisable to remove Morel, instead of allowing him to accompany the others to the farm as usual."

"The farm!" exclaimed Madame Georges. "Have you a farm here?"

"Your surprise is perfectly natural, madame. Yes, we have a farm, the produce of which is most serviceable to the establishment, although entirely worked by the patients."

"Is it possible? Can you make these lunatics work, and allow them to be at liberty while they do so?"

"Certainly; exercise, the calm tranquillity of the fields, with the aspect of nature, are among our most certain means of cure. Only one keeper goes with them, and we have rarely had an instance of any patient endeavouring to get away; they are delighted to be employed, and the trifling reward they gain serves still to improve their condition, by enabling them to purchase different little indulgences. But we have reached the gate conducting to one of these courts." Then perceiving a slight appearance of alarm on the countenance of Madame Georges, the doctor added, "Lay aside all apprehension, madame; in a very few minutes you will feel as tranquil as I do myself."

"I follow you, sir. Come, my children."

"Anastasie," whispered Pipelet, "when I think that, had the persecutions of that odious Cabrion continued, your poor dear Alfred might have become mad, like the unhappy wretches we are about to behold, clad in the most wild and singular state, chained up by the middle, or confined in dens like the wild beasts in the 'Jardin des Plantes--'"

"Oh, bless your dear old heart, don't talk of such a thing! La! I've heard say that them as has gone mad for love are for all the world like born devils directly they see a woman; das.h.i.+ng against the bars of their dens, and making all sorts of horrid noises, till the keepers are forced to flog them till they drop, or else turn great taps of water on their heads before they can quiet them."

"Anastasie," rejoined Pipelet, gravely, "I desire you will not go too close to these dreadful creatures, an accident so soon happens."

"Besides," answered Anastasie, with a tone of sentimental melancholy, "poor things, I have no business to show myself just for the sake of tantalising them. 'Tis woman's beauty and fascination reduces them to this horrid state. I declare I feel a cold shudder creep over me as I reflect that, perhaps, if I had refused to make you a happy man, Alfred, you might at this very minute be raving mad for love, and shut up in one of these dens, roaring out the moment you caught sight of a woman; while as it is, my poor old duck is glad to get out of the way of the naughty females that will be trying to make him notice them."

"'Tis true, my modesty is easily alarmed. But, Anastasie, the door opens, I tremble with dread of what we are about to witness; no doubt the most hideous looking people, and all sorts of dreadful noises, rattling of chains, and grinding of teeth."

The door being opened admitted them into a long courtyard, planted with rows of trees, under which benches were placed. On each side was a well-constructed and s.p.a.cious portico, or covered stone terrace, with which a range of large, airy cells communicated. A number of men, all alike clad in a gray dress, were walking, talking, or conversing in this pleasant retreat, while others were seated on the benches, enjoying the refres.h.i.+ng shade and fresh open air.

At the sight of Doctor Herbin a number of the unfortunate lunatics pressed around him, with every manifestation of joy and delight, extending to him their hands with an expression of grateful confidence, to which he cordially responded, by saying:

"Good day--good day, my worthy fellows! I am glad to see you all so well and happy."

Some of the poor lunatics, too far from the doctor to be able to seize his hand, ventured, with a sort of timid hesitation, to offer theirs to the persons who were with him.

"Good morning, friends," said Germain, shaking hands in a manner so cordial as to fill the unfortunate beings with happiness.

"Are these the mad patients?" inquired Madame Georges.

"Nearly the worst belonging to the establishment," answered the doctor, smiling; "they are permitted to be together during the day, but at night they are locked up in the cells you see there."

"Can it be possible that these men are really mad! But when are they violent?"

"Generally at the first outbreak of their malady, when they are brought here. After a short time the soothing treatment they experience, with the society of their companions, calms and amuses them, so that their paroxysms become milder and less frequent, until at length, by the blessing of G.o.d, they recover their senses."

"What are those individuals talking so earnestly about?" inquired Madame Georges. "One of them seems referring to a blind man, who, in addition to the loss of sight, seems likewise deprived of speech and reason. Have you such a one among your patients, or is the existence of this person but a mere coinage of the brain?"

"Unhappily, madame, it is a fact but too true, and the history connected with it is a most singular one. The blind man concerning whom you inquire was found in a low haunt in the Champs Elysees, in which a gang of robbers and murderers of the worst description were apprehended; this wretched object was discovered, chained in the midst of an underground cave, and beside him lay stretched the dead body of a woman, so horribly mutilated that it was wholly impossible to attempt to identify it. The man himself was hideously ugly, his features being quite destroyed by the application of vitriol. He has never uttered a single word since he came hither; whether his dumbness be real or affected I know not, for, strange to say, his paroxysms always occur during the night, and when I am absent, so as to baffle all conjecture as to his real situation; but his madness seems occasioned by violent rage, the cause of which we cannot find out, for, as I before observed, he never speaks or utters an articulate sound. But here he is."

The whole of the party accompanying the doctor started with horror at the sight of the Schoolmaster, for he it was, who merely feigned being dumb and mad to procure his own safety. The dead body found beside him was that of the Chouette, whom he had murdered, not during a paroxysm of madness, but while under the influence of such a burning fever of the brain as had produced the fearful dream he had dreamed the night he pa.s.sed at the farm of Bouqueval.