"Does the Count's _fiancée_, then, live at Rosienie?" I said.
"Yes, in that neighbourhood; but I cannot say whether she is affianced
to him. She is a real flirt, and will drive him off his head, so that he
will be in his mother's state."
"Indeed, then her ladyship is ... an invalid?"
"She is mad, my dear sir, mad; and I was even madder to come here!"
"Let us hope that your able attentions will restore her to reason."
The doctor shook his head, and looked attentively at the colour of the
glass of Bordeaux which he held in his hand.
"The man you see before you, Professor, was once surgeon-major in the
Kalouga regiment. At Sevastopol we cut off arms and legs from morning
till night; not to speak of bombs which came down among us as thick as
flies on a galled horse. But, though I was then ill-lodged and ill-fed,
I was not so bored as I am here, where I eat and drink of the best, am
lodged like a prince, and paid like a Court physician.... But liberty,
my dear sir!... As you can guess, with this she-dragon I have not a
moment to call my own."
"Has she been under your care for long?"
"Less than two years; but she has been insane at least twenty-seven,
since before the birth of the Count. Did no one tell you this either at
Rosienie or Kowno? Listen, then, for it is a case on which I should like
some day to write an article for the _Medical Journal_ of St.
Petersburg. She went mad from fear...."
"From fear? How was such a thing possible?"
"She had a fright. She is of the house of Keystut.... Oh, there are no
_mésalliances_ in this house. We descend from the Gédymin.... Well,
Professor, two or three days after her marriage, which took place in the
castle where we are dining (I drink to your health ...), the Count, the
father of the present one, went out hunting. Our Lithuanian ladies are
regular amazons, you know. The Countess accompanied him to the hunt....
She stayed behind, or got in advance of the huntsmen,... I do not know
which,... when, all at once, the Count saw the Countess's little
Cossack, a lad of twelve or fourteen, come up at full gallop.
"'Master!' he said, 'a bear has carried off the Countess.'
"'Where?' cried the Count.
"'Over there,' replied the boy-Cossack.
"All the hunt ran towards the spot he pointed out, but no Countess was
to be seen. Her strangled horse lay on one side, and on the other her
lambs-wool cloak. They searched and beat the wood on all sides. At last
a huntsman cried out, 'There is the bear!' and, sure enough, the bear
crossed a clearing, dragging the Countess, no doubt for the purpose of
devouring her undisturbed, into a thicket, for these beasts are great
gourmands; they like to dine at ease, as the monks. Married but a couple
of days, the Count was most chivalrous. He tried to fling himself upon
the bear, hunting knife in his fist; but, my dear sir, a Lithuanian bear
does not let himself be run through like a stag. By good fortune the
Count's gun-bearer, a queer, low fellow, so drunk that morning as to be
unable to tell a rabbit from a hare, fired his rifle, more than a
hundred paces off, without taking care whether the bullet hit the beast
or the lady...."
"And he killed the bear?"
"Stone dead. It takes a tipsy man to hit like that. There are also
predestined bullets, Professor. There are sorcerers here who sell them
at a moderate price.... The Countess was terribly torn, unconscious, of
course, and had one leg broken. They carried her home, and she recovered
consciousness, but her reason had gone. They took her to St. Petersburg
for a special consultation of four doctors, who glittered with orders.
They said that Madam was _enceinte_, and that a favourable turn might be
expected after her delivery. She was to be kept in fresh air in the
country, and given whey and codéine. Each physician received about a
hundred roubles. Nine months later the Countess gave birth to a fine,
healthy boy, but where was the 'favourable turn'? Ah, yes, indeed ...
there was nothing but redoubled frenzy. The Count showed her her son. In
novels that never fails to produce a good effect. 'Kill it! kill the
beast!' she yelled; a little longer, and she would have wrung his neck.
Ever since there have been phases of stupid imbecility, alternating with
violent mania. There is a strong suicidal tendency. We are obliged to
strap her down to make her take fresh air, and it takes three strong
servants to hold her in. Nevertheless, Professor, I ask you to note this
fact, when I have exhausted my Latin on her without making her obey me,
I have a resort that quietens her. I threaten to cut off her hair. I
fancy she must have had very beautiful hair at one time. Vanity! It is
the sole human feeling left. Is it not odd? If I could experiment upon
her as I chose, I might perhaps be able to cure her."
"By what method?"
"By thrashing her. I cured in that way twenty peasant women in a village
where the terrible Russian madness (the _hurlement_[2]) had broken out.
One woman begins to howl, then her companion follows, and in three days'
time the whole village is howling mad. I put an end to it by flogging
them. (Take a little chicken, it is very tender.) The Count would never
allow me to try the experiment."
"What! you wanted him to consent to your atrocious treatment?"
"Oh, he had known his mother so little, and besides it was for her
good; but tell me, Professor, have you ever held that fear could drive
anyone mad?"
"The Countess's situation was frightful ... to find herself in the claws
of a savage beast!"
"All the same, her son does not take after her. A year ago he was in
exactly the same predicament, but, thanks to his coolness, he had a
marvellous escape."
"From the claws of a bear?"
"A she-bear, the largest seen for some time. The Count wanted to attack
her, boar-spear in hand, but with one back stroke she parried the blade,
clutched the Count, and felled him to the ground as easily as I could
upset this bottle. He cunningly feigned death.... The bear smelt and
sniffed him, then, instead of tearing him to pieces, she gave him a lick
with her tongue. He had the presence of mind not to move, and she went
on her way."
"She thought that he was dead. I have been told that these animals will
not eat a dead body."
"We will endeavour to believe that is so, and abstain from making
personal investigation of the question. But, apropos of fear, let me
tell you what happened at Sevastopol. Five or six of us were sitting
behind the ambulance of the famous bastion No. 5, round a pot of beer
which had been brought us. The sentry cried, 'A shell!' and we all lay
flat on our stomachs. No, not all of us: a fellow named ... but it is
not necessary to give his name ... a young officer who had just come to
us, remained standing up, holding his glass full, just when the shell
burst. It carried off the head of my poor comrade André Speranski, a
brave lad, and broke the pitcher, which, fortunately, was nearly empty.
When we got up after the explosion we saw, in the midst of the smoke,
that our friend had swallowed his last mouthful of beer just as though
nothing had happened. We dubbed him a hero. The following day I met
Captain Ghédéonof coming out of the hospital. 'I dine with you fellows
to-day,' he said, 'and to celebrate my return I will stand the
champagne.' We sat down to the table, and the young officer of the beer
was there. He did not wait for the champagne. A bottle was being
uncorked near him, and fizz! the cork hit him on the temple. He uttered
a cry and fainted away. Believe me, my hero had been devilishly afraid
the first time, and his drinking the beer instead of getting out of the
way showed that he had lost the control of his mind, and only
unconscious mechanical movements remained to him. Indeed, Professor, the
human mechanism--"
"Sir," said a servant who had just come into the room, "Jdanova says
that the Countess will not take her food."
"Devil take her!" growled the doctor. "I must go to her. When I have
made my she-dragon eat, Professor, if agreeable to you, we will take a
hand at _préférence_ or at _douratchki_."
I expressed my regret that I was ignorant of the games, and, when he had
gone to see the invalid, I went up to my room and wrote to Mlle.
Gertrude.