THE OPERATION.
We have given up the attempt to paint the countenance, attitude, and
gesticulation of Rodin during the reading of this note, which seemed to
ruin all his most cherished hopes. Everything was failing at once, at the
moment when only superhuman trust in the success of his plans could give
him sufficient energy to strive against mortal sickness. A single,
absorbing thought had agitated him even to delirium: What progress,
during his illness, had been made in this immense affair? He had first
heard a good piece of news, the death of Jacques Rennepont; but now the
advantages of this decease, which reduced the number of the heirs from
seven to six, were entirely lost. To what purpose would be this death, if
the other members of the family, dispersed and persecuted with such
infernal perseverance, were to unite and discover the enemies who had so
long aimed at them in darkness? If all those wounded hearts were to
console, enlighten, support each other, their cause would be gained, and
the inheritance rescued from the reverend fathers. What was to be done?
Strange power of the human will!--Rodin had one foot in the grave, he was
almost at the last gasp; his voice had failed him. And yet that obstinate
nature, so full of energy and resources, did not despair. Let but a
miracle restore his health, and that firm confidence in the success of
his projects which has given him power to struggle against disease, tells
him that he could yet save all--but then he must have health and life!
Health! life! His physician does not know if he will survive the
shock--if he can bear the pain--of a terrible operation. Health! life!
and just now Rodin heard talk of the solemn funeral they had prepared for
him. And yet--health, life, he will have them. Yes; he has willed to
live--and he has lived--why should he not live longer? He will
live--because he has willed it.
All that we have just written passed though Rodin's mind in a second. His
features, convulsed by the mental torment he endured, must have assumed a
very strange expression, for Father d'Aigrigny and the cardinal looked at
him in silent consternation. Once resolved to live, and to sustain a
desperate struggle with the Rennepont family, Rodin acted in consequence.
For a few moments Father d'Aigrigny and the prelate believed themselves
under the influence of a dream. By an effort of unparalleled energy, and
as if moved by hidden mechanism, Rodin sprang from the bed, dragging the
sheet with him, and trailing it, like a shroud, behind his livid and
fleshless body. The room was cold; the face of the Jesuit was bathed in
sweat; his naked and bony feet left their moist print upon the stones.
"What are you doing? It is death!" cried Father d'Aigrigny, rushing
towards Rodin, to force him to lie down again.
But the latter, extending one of his skeleton arms, as hard as iron,
pushed aside Father d'Aigrigny with inconceivable vigor, considering the
state of exhaustion in which he had so long been.
"He has the strength of a man in a fit of epilepsy," said Father
d'Aigrigny, recovering his balance.
With a steady step Rodin advanced to the desk on which Dr. Baleinier
daily wrote his prescriptions. Seating himself before it, the Jesuit took
pen and paper, and began to write in a firm hand. His calm, slow, and
sure movements had in them something of the deliberateness remarked in
somnambulists. Mute and motionless, hardly knowing whether they dreamed
or not, the cardinal and Father d'Aigrigny remained staring at the
incredible coolness of Rodin, who, half-naked, continued to write with
perfect tranquillity.
"But, father," said the Abbe d'Aigrigny, advancing towards him, "this is
madness!"
Rodin shrugged his shoulders, stopped him with a gesture and made him a
sign to read what he had just written.
The reverend father expected to see the ravings of a diseased brain; but
he took the note, whilst Rodin commenced another.
"My lord," exclaimed Father d'Aigrigny, "read this!"
The cardinal read the paper, and returning it to the reverend father with
equal amazement, added: "It is full of reason, ability, and resources. We
shall thus be able to neutralize the dangerous combination of Abbe
Gabriel and Mdlle. de Cardoville, who appear to be the most formidable
leaders of the coalition."
"It is really miraculous," said Father d'Aigrigny.
"Oh, my dear father!" whispered the cardinal, shaking his head; "what a
pity that we are the only witnesses of this scene! What an excellent
MIRACLE we could have made of it! In one sense, it is another Raising of
Lazarus!"
"What an idea, my lord!" answered Father d'Aigrigny, in a low voice. "It
is perfect--and we must not give it up--"
This innocent little plot was interrupted by Rodin, who, turning his
head, made a sign to Father d'Aigrigny to approach, and delivered to him
another sheet, with this note attached: "To be executed within an hour."
Having rapidly perused the paper, Father d'Aigrigny exclaimed: "Right! I
had not thought of that. Instead of being fatal, the correspondence
between Agricola and M. Hardy may thus have the best results. Really,"
added the reverend father in a low voice to the prelate, while Rodin
continued to write, "I am quite confounded. I read--I see--and yet I can
hardly believe my eyes. Just before, exhausted and dying--and now with
his mind as clear and penetrating as ever. Can this be one of the
phenomena of somnambulism, in which the mind alone governs and sustains
the body?"
Suddenly the door opened, and Dr. Baleinier entered the room. At sight of
Rodin, seated half-naked at the desk, with his feet upon the cold stones,
the doctor exclaimed, in a tone of reproach and alarm: "But, my
lord--but, father--it is murder to let the unhappy man do this!--If he is
delirious from fever, he must have the strait-waistcoat, and be tied down
in bed."
So saying. Dr. Baleinier hastily approached Rodin, and took him by the
arm. Instead of finding the skin dry and chilly, as he expected, he found
it flexible, almost damp. Struck with surprise, the doctor sought to feel
the pulse of the left hand, which Rodin resigned, to him, whilst he
continued working with the right.
"What a prodigy!" cried the doctor, as he counted Rodin's pulse; "for a
week past, and even this morning, the pulse has been abrupt,
intermittent, almost insensible, and now it is firm, regular--I am really
puzzled--what then has happened? I can hardly believe what I see," added
the doctor, turning towards Father d'Aigrigny and the cardinal.
"The reverend father, who had first lost his voice, was next seized with
such furious and violent despair caused by the receipt of bad news,"
answered Father d'Aigrigny, "that we feared a moment for his life; while
now, on the contrary, the reverend father has gained sufficient strength
to go to his desk, and write for some minutes, with a clearness of
argument and expression, which has confounded both the cardinal and
myself."
"There is no longer any doubt of it," cried the doctor. "The violent
despair has caused a degree of emotion, which will admirably prepare the
reactive crisis, that I am now almost certain of producing by the
operation."
"You persist in the operation?" whispered Father d'Aigrigny, whilst Rodin
continued to write.
"I might have hesitated this morning; but, disposed as he now is for it,
I must profit by the moment of excitement, which will be followed by
greater depression."
"Then, without the operation--" said the cardinal.
"This fortunate and unexpected crisis will soon be over, and the reaction
may kill him, my lord."
"Have you informed him of the serious nature of the operation?"
"Pretty nearly, my lord."
"But it is time to bring him to the point."
"That is what I will do, my lord," said Dr. Baleinier; and approaching
Rodin, who continued to write, he thus addressed him, in a firm voice:
"My reverend father, do you wish to be up and well in a week?"
Rodin nodded, full of confidence, as much as to say: "I am up already."
"Do not deceive yourself," replied the doctor. "This crisis is excellent,
but it will not last, and if we would profit by it, we must proceed with
the operation of which I have spoken to you--or, I tell you plainly, I
answer for nothing after such a shock."
Rodin was the more struck with these words, as, half an hour ago, he had
experienced the short duration of the improvement occasioned by Father
d'Aigrigny's good news, and as already he felt increased oppression on
the chest.
Dr. Baleinier, wishing to decide him, added: "In a word, father, will you
live or die?"
Rodin wrote rapidly this answer, which he gave to the doctor: "To live, I
would let you cut me limb from limb. I am ready for anything." And he
made a movement to rise.
"I must tell you, reverend father, so as not to take you by surprise,"
added Dr. Baleinier, "that this operation is cruelly painful."
Rodin shrugged his shoulders and wrote with a firm hand: "Leave me my
head; you may take all the rest."
The doctor read these words aloud, and the cardinal and Father d'Aigrigny
looked at each other in admiration of this dauntless courage.
"Reverend father," said Dr. Baleinier, "you must lie down."
Rodin wrote: "Get everything ready. I have still some orders to write.
Let me know when it is time."
Then folding up a paper, which he had sealed with a wafer, Rodin gave
these words to Father d'Aigrigny: "Send this note instantly to the agent
who addressed the anonymous letters to Marshal Simon."
"Instantly, reverend father," replied the abbe; "I will employ a sure
messenger."
"Reverend father," said Baleinier to Rodin, "since you must write, lie
down in bed, and write there, during our little preparations."
Rodin made an affirmative gesture, and rose. But already the prognostics
of the doctor were realized. The Jesuit could hardly remain standing for
a second; he fell back into a chair, and looked at Dr. Baleinier with
anguish, whilst his breathing became more and more difficult.
The doctor said to him: "Do not be uneasy. But we must make haste. Lean
upon me and Father d'Aigrigny."
Aided by these two supporters, Rodin was able to regain the bed. Once
there, he made signs that they should bring him pen, ink, and paper. Then
he continued to write upon his knees, pausing from time to time, to
breathe with great difficulty.
"Reverend father," said Baleinier to d'Aigrigny, "are you capable of
acting as one of my assistants in the operation? Have you that sort of
courage?"
"No," said the reverend father; "in the army I could never assist at an
amputation. The sight of blood is too much for me."
"There will be no blood," said the doctor, "but it will be worse. Please
send me three of our reverend fathers to assist me, and ask M. Rousselet
to bring in the apparatus."
Father d'Aigrigny went out. The prelate approached the doctor, and
whispered, pointing to Rodin: "Is he out of danger?"
"If he stands the operation--yes, my lord."
"Are you sure that he can stand it?"
"To him I should say 'yes,' to you 'I hope so.'"
"And were he to die, would there be time to administer the sacraments in
public, with a certain pomp, which always causes some little delay?"
"His dying may continue, my lord--a quarter of an hour."
"It is short, but we must be satisfied with that," said the prelate.
And, going to one of the windows, he began to tap with his fingers on the
glass, while he thought of the illumination effects, in the event of
Rodin's lying in state. At this moment, Rousselet entered, with a large
square box under his arm. He placed it on the drawers, and began to
arrange his apparatus.
"How many have you prepared?" said the doctor.
"Six, sir."
"Four will do, but it is well to be fully provided. The cotton is not too
thick?"
"Look, sir."
"Very good."
"And how is the reverend father?" asked the pupil.
"Humph!" answered the doctor, in a whisper. "The chest is terribly
clogged, the respiration hissing, the voice gone--still there is a
change."
"All my fear is, sir, that the reverend father will not be able to stand
the dreadful pain."
"It is another chance; but, under the circumstances, we must risk all.
Come, my dear boy, light the--taper; I hear our assistants."
Just then Father d'Aigrigny entered the room, accompanied by the three
Jesuits, who, in the morning, had walked in the garden. The two old men,
with their rosy cheeks, and the young one, with the ascetic countenance,
all three dressed in black, with their square caps and white bands,
appeared perfectly ready to assist Dr. Baleinier in his formidable
operation.