_Petito Loses His Ears_
|WE will now go downstairs to the flat below, into the apartment
occupied by Signor and Signora Petito. Signora Petito is saying, “I
do not understand M. Longuet’s conduct at the dinner at all. He spoke
such vague, peculiar words.”
“Well,” answers Signor Petito, “he has this treasure which may
be found in the environs of Paris, and he is thinking of it. It
is certainly very interesting, and I would like to find it myself.
According to the document, my opinion is that one ought to look either
at the side of Montrouge, or at the side of Montmartre. I am inclined
to think that it is Montmartre, on acount of the ‘Coq.’ There was
a castle ‘Coq de Percherons’ there. You will find it if you look at
this plan of old Paris.”
They looked at the plan, and after a short silence Signor Petito added,
“It is still very vague. For myself, I think that one ought to attach
importance to the words ‘Le Four.’”
“My dear, then it is more and more vague,” said his wife, “for
there are many furnaces around Paris. There were plaster furnaces, and
quicklime furnaces, and many others.”
“My idea,” said Signor Petito, “is that Le Four does not mean
‘the furnaces.’ I remember that there was a space after the word
‘Four,’ on the paper. Pass my dictionary.” Signora Petito,
noiselessly, and with great care, brought him the lexicon. They looked
over all the words beginning with the syllable ‘Four.’ On account
of the article, le, they decided not to pay any attention to feminine
words.
Just then the clock on the mantel-shelf struck midnight. Signora Petito
got up, and said to the Signor, “Now is the time. We will find some
useful information on the floor above. They cannot hear you in your
stockinged feet. I will watch behind their door at the head of their
stairway. You know there is no danger, they are still in the country.”
Two minutes later a form glided over the landing at M. Longuet’s door,
put a key into the lock stealthily, and went into the vestibule. M.
Longuet’s apartment was arranged exactly like Signor Petito’s, and
so the latter easily found his way into the dining-room. He acted with
perfect composure, believing the apartment to be uninhabited. He pushed
the office door open. As it was evidently the lock of the desk that he
wished to reach. Signor Petito took the ornament which inconvenienced
him and placed it on the tea-table. Then he quitted the room
noiselessly, and entered the dining-room, from there into the vestibule,
for he seemed to hear a voice on the stairway. He was without doubt
mistaken, for he listened intently for some time without hearing a
sound. When he came back into the office, he found the cat again on the
desk, and purring. His hair seemed to stand on end, for the horror
which had seized upon him was not to be compared to the horror which had
seized upon those in the next room.
Signor Petito remained immovable in the bluish moonlight. With a timid
hand he seized the little black cat. The movement caused by this made
the cat purr again. Now he understood that in the cat’s pasteboard
body there was a little ball, balanced in such a manner that it
ingeniously simulated the purring of a cat when it was moved.
How frightened he had been! He felt a fool. All was explained. Did he
not remove the cat before returning to the vestibule? Instead of having
placed the cat on the table, as he thought, he must have replaced it
on the desk. That was a simple explanation, and he paid the strictest
attention this time when he placed it on the table.
While he was doing this there was a fresh noise on the stairway. It was
only Signora Petito, who had very incautiously sneezed.
Signor Petito went hurriedly and silently back into the vestibule, and
when he was reassured, went back into the office again.
The black cat had been returned to the desk again!
He thought that he would die of fright. A miraculous intervention had
arrested him on the verge of a great crime, and he uttered a hurried
prayer in which he promised heaven never to do it again. However,
another quarter of an hour passed, and he attributed these surprising
events to his conscience, and returning, placed the cat back again on
the table.
Just then the door of the room was violently opened, and Signor
Petito fell into the arms of M. Longuet, who did not express the least
astonishment.
M. Longuet threw Signor Petito on the floor in disgust, and picking
up the ornament, opened the window, and threw it out into the street.
During this time, Signor Petito, who had gotten up, could hardly compose
his features, for Mme. Longuet, in her chemise, was threatening him
with a revolver. He could only stammer, “I beg your pardon, I really
thought that you were in the country.”
M. Longuet went up to him, and taking him by one of his ears, said,
“Now, my dear Signor Petito, we must talk.”
Marceline lowered the barrel of her revolver, and felt pleased at seeing
her husband show such courage.
“You see, my dear Signor Petito,” continued Théophraste, “that I
am calm. A little while ago I was getting angry, but it was only at that
little cat which was keeping me from going to sleep, and which I have
thrown out of the window. Rut be assured, my dear Signor, I shall not
throw you out of the window. You have not kept me from sleeping, you
have even taken the precaution to put on slippers. Many thanks. But why,
my dear Signor, do you make that ridiculous grimace? It is without doubt
on account of your ear. I have some good news to tell you which will
perhaps put you at ease about your ears. Your ears will make you suffer
no more.”
Having finished his sarcastic talk, Théophraste begged his wife to pass
him a cloth, and ordered Signor Petito to go into the kitchen. “Do not
be surprised that I receive you in the kitchen. I prize my carpets very
much, and you will probably bleed like a pig.”
M. Longuet drew towards him a white wooden table, which he placed in the
middle of the kitchen. He asked Marceline to place an oil-cloth over the
table, and get him a large bowl. He then asked for a carving set,
which he said she would find in the dresser drawer, which stood in the
dining-room. Marceline tried to ask for an explanation, but her husband
looked at her so coldly and so strangely, that, shuddering, she could
only obey. Signor Petito, in a cold perspiration, tried to reach the
door of the kitchen, but M. Longuet stood between him and the means of
exit, and commanded him to be seated.
“Signor Petito,” said he, in a tone of the most sarcastic
politeness, “you have a face which displeases me. It is not your
fault; but then it is not mine, either. Certainly you are by far the
most cowardly and the most despicable of thieves. But what does that
matter? But do not smile, Signor Petito.” It is certain that Signor
Petito had no intention of smiling.
“You have ridiculously large ears, and surely with such ears, you dare
not pass by the corner of the Guiliere.”
Signor Petito clasped his hands and stammered, “But my wife awaits
me.”
“What are you doing, Marceline?” Théophraste cried impatiently.
“Do not you see that Signor Petito is in a hurry? His wife is waiting
for him. Have you the carving set?”
“I could not find the fork,” answered Marceline in a trembling
voice. (The truth was, Marceline did not know what to say, for she
believed that her husband had become completely insane, and between
Signor Petito the house-breaker, and Théophraste mad, she was in
anything but an enviable position.) She had hidden herself behind
a cupboard door, and her distress was so extreme, that in turning
suddenly, when Théophraste hurled a volley of insults at her, she
upset her favorite vase, which made a loud noise, thus adding to the
confusion.
Théophraste resorted once more to oaths and insults, and called
Marceline in such a tone that she ran to him in spite of herself. The
spectacle which awaited her in the kitchen was atrocious. Signor Petito
was lying on the wooden table, his eyes bursting from their orbits, a
handkerchief in his mouth, which nearly suffocated him. Théophraste had
had the time, and was possessed with the extraordinary strength to tie
his hands and ankles with cords. Signor Petito’s head hung a little
beyond the edge of the table, and under it there was a bowl which M.
Longuet had placed there to prevent soiling anything. The latter with
palpitating nostrils had caught Signor Petito by the hair with his left
hand. In his right he clasped the handle of a notched kitchen knife.
Gnashing his teeth, he cried out, “Strike the flags.”
As he said this he made the first cut at the right ear. The cartilage
resisted. Signor Petito’s muffled groans could just be heard. M.
Longuet, who was still in his night-shirt, worked like a surgeon bent
upon a difficult operation. Marceline’s strength failed her, and she
fell upon her knees. Signor Petito, in attempting to struggle, threw the
blood from his ears across the kitchen, and Théophraste, letting go his
hair, struck him a blow across the head. “Be a little careful,” said
he, “you are splashing the blood all over everything.”
The cartilage still resisted, so taking the right ear in his left hand,
with a strong blow with the notched knife he tore it away. He placed the
ear in a saucer which he had previously placed on the sink, and
allowed the water to flow over it. Then he came back to the second ear.
Marceline groaned very loudly, but he silenced her with a glance. The
second ear was cut off much more easily, and with more dispatch.
By this time Signor Petito had swallowed half of the handkerchief, and
was suffocating. Théophraste took the handkerchief out of his mouth and
threw it out into the clothes-basket near by. He then untied his
ankles and wrists, and signed to him to leave the apartment as soon as
possible. He had the forethought to wrap his head in a dish-cloth, so
that the blood would not stain the stairway or the janitor’s family.
As Signor Petito passed by, in agony, Théophraste put the washed ears
into his vest pocket.
“You forgot something,” he said. “What would Signora Petito say
if you went back without your ears?” He closed the door. Looking at
Marceline, who was on her knees, paralysed with horror, he wiped the
bloody knife on his sleeve.