THE SEANCE
"It is the unexpected which always happens."
D'Israeli.
"Le passage est bien court de la joie aux douleurs."
Victor Hugo.
At last the long-looked-for day of the promised séance arrived, and
in the evening after dinner Madame Villebois, anxious to carry out
Delapine's instructions down to the most minute particular, busied
herself in preparing all the details for the arrangement of the room.
A sound sleep the previous night had completely restored the good
lady's nerves, and the professor's assurance that M. Payot had not the
slightest recollection of what had occurred had quite allayed her fears.
"My dear, I assure you that Marcel and Payot are now the best of
friends," said the doctor, "and everybody is in the best of spirits."
"But how could that have possibly been brought about?" asked madame a
little dubiously.
"Ah, I see you don't know Delapine yet," replied her husband. "He is
a marvel. I really believe that he could tame a Bengal tiger with
a single gesture, and as for M. Payot, he is just like wax in the
professor's hands. You need not have the slightest fear about our
friend Marcel either. He has not only forgiven Payot, but has made him
positively forget that there ever was a difference between them."
Madame merely shrugged her shoulders, but a glance at the beaming face
of the poet who happened to enter the room at the moment, entirely
reassured her.
As for the other members of the house party, needless to say they were
all on the tip-toe of expectation, not unmixed in the case of Renée
with a certain amount of anxiety.
Delapine returned from the Sorbonne rather earlier than usual, in
order to see that all the necessary arrangements were made in strict
accordance with his wishes.
At his suggestion his host had given up for the séance a large room
opening into the conservatory, and it was here that Delapine found
Madame Villebois busy getting everything in readiness. All the blinds
had been closely drawn down, and only a solitary paraffin lamp threw a
subdued light over the apartment.
A heavy circular oak table had been placed in the centre of the room,
and round this table were set some eight or nine chairs. The walls
had been bared of all pictures and curtains, and with the exception
of the table and chairs and a short grand piano, the only piece of
furniture occupying the room was a large lightly built cabinet, which
had been specially constructed of laths nailed together, and the whole
surrounded by a green baize curtain. This curtain was so arranged
that it reached the entire height of the cabinet, and it was simply
folded in front so that its edges could be hooked back and aside, thus
allowing the contents of the cabinet to be clearly visible. The result
of this arrangement of the green curtain was that there was only one
opening, where its edges nearly met in the middle line facing the
audience.
This idea had been insisted upon by Delapine in order to obviate all
possibility of fraud or collusion, so that before he went to sleep
in the cabinet, every one of those present at the séance might have
an opportunity of examining every nook and corner. As a further
precaution, Delapine himself had seen that all the doors and windows
were securely fastened on the inside, with the exception of the single
entrance from the dining-room. And to crown all, a camera was fixed
in position at one end of the room under the special care of Riche to
enable him to take an indisputable record of any striking phenomena.
The first to arrive was Pierre, who in greeting his hostess, tendered
his most profuse apologies for his unavoidable absence, explaining that
nothing but a most urgent call to an appointment at his office could
have taken him away at such a moment from his charming friends. And
then, after a few words to each of the other guests, he quietly sat
down next to Riche.
A moment later M. Payot, fresh and jaunty as if nothing had happened,
came in beaming and wearing a large floral decoration in his
button-hole, from behind the shelter of whose foliage he showered
smiles on everybody.
Villebois nudged his better half and entreated her with a look not to
broach the subject of the previous evening's quarrel, but she failed to
take the hint.
"Ah, delighted to see you again, my dear madame," said the financier,
as he shook hands in the most friendly manner. "I trust you have fully
recovered from your indisposition of the last evening?"
"Thank you, my dear M. Payot," replied the good lady smiling, "and I
also hope that you have recovered from your fight."
"My fight, madame. What do you mean? I have not fought anyone since my
justly celebrated duel with M. Camembert, editor of the _Journal de
Paris_ fifteen years ago."
"Why, I mean your fight with Marcel last evening."
"My fight with Marcel? My dear madame, surely you must be dreaming? I
never had a quarrel with my little friend Marcel in all my life. Isn't
it the truth, Villebois?" and Payot, completely mystified, appealed to
his host for confirmation.
Poor Villebois looked terrified.
"For God's sake, my dear, do be quiet," he whispered, and then added in
a louder tone, "Pray excuse my wife, she has been reading a dreadful
account of a fight between the police and the Apaches. That, I fear,
added to her nervous headache has completely confused her mind about
the events of last evening."
The good lady was about to remonstrate with her husband, when Céleste
with great tact soothed her feelings, and adroitly turned her thoughts
in another direction.
Payot, apparently satisfied, accepted the explanation, and at length
order and peace were established, and everyone sat breathlessly waiting
for the professor.
Seeing that everything was at last quiet, and that all his audience
were composed and ready, Delapine, who had been assuring himself that
his instructions with regard to the cabinet had been properly attended
to, moved towards the centre of the room and said:
"You must not imagine, my friends, that spiritualistic phenomena can
always be produced at will, like a physical experiment in a laboratory.
Often no phenomena take place at all, and still more often certain
unknown influences modify or alter them, so that frequently we obtain
only imperfect results, or phenomena entirely different from what
we expected. You should remember that really we are here to observe
and not to experiment. Let us now join hands round the table," and
so saying the professor, having lowered the lamp, placed his hands
wide apart with his fingers lightly resting on the table. The others
proceeded to do the same in order to complete the circle.
At this moment Riche heard a slight movement, and quietly turning his
head noticed Pierre getting up from his chair.
In spite of the dim light Pierre saw that Riche was watching his
movements and walking up to the doctor on tip-toe whispered in his ear,
"Please tell the company as soon as this performance is over, that I
was obliged to go to my chambers at once on urgent business, and much
as I regret it, it will be quite impossible for me to return to-night."
Riche squeezed his hand and nodding assent, Pierre unobserved by the
others left the room.
Silently, and in a state of expectation bordering almost on excitement
the eight members of the circle sat round the table; Delapine, Renée,
Villebois, Madame Villebois, Payot, Céleste, Riche and Marcel, the
latter completing the circle with Delapine.
The professor was the first to break the silence--
"I must request each one of you," he said authoritatively, "on no
account to touch any one of the four legs of this table. I have
specially tied tissue paper round each leg in such a way that if any
one of you touches it the paper will be soiled or crumpled."
"Why did you put a red screen round the lamp, and turn the light down
low like that?" asked Riche.
"For the same reason that you use a red light when developing a
photographic plate," replied Delapine. "Because it is well-known that a
white light would spoil the plate. And in the same way the vibrations
of white light interfere with the intensely rapid vibrations which
produce our phenomena. But hush," he continued in an audible whisper,
"I feel the presence of some mysterious force."
"Can you perceive anyone besides us, professor?" asked Riche in an awed
whisper.
"Yes," replied Delapine.
"The stranger at my fireside cannot see
The forms, nor hear the sounds I hear,
He but perceives what Is; while unto me
All that Has Been is visible and clear.
"Do you suppose for a moment," he continued, "that we are able to be in
touch with everything that goes on around us, when all our knowledge
of the outside world is obtained through the five kinds of vibrations
which reach our senses? I assure you there are a thousand varieties
of vibrations of which we are entirely unconscious, but they can be
perceived by the soul when it is freed from its earthly environment.
Now I will try whether I have the power to move matter by my will.
All of you keep your hands lightly touching the table, and do not on
any account break the circuit. Each one of you must endeavour to be
perfectly convinced of my power."
For a few moments nothing happened, then gradually each one felt a
tremor run through his fingers, and the table began to heave up and
down first on one side and then on the other.
"The table seems to be alive," said Renée alarmed. "It moves in spite
of all my efforts to keep it still."
"Yes," said Marcel, "I have been pressing down with all my might, but
it is of no use. Look, look, it is rising up."
Slowly, but none the less surely, the table rose bodily, until at last
the members of the circle were compelled to stand up in order to keep
their hands still resting on it, as ordered by Delapine.
"Press, press with all your might," cried Delapine loudly, "and see if
you can overcome my will."
All pressed heavily in their desire to carry out implicitly every
command of the professor, but their efforts were in vain. At last the
table rose to such a height that the whole company were compelled to
stand on their chairs, but even then their united pressure was of no
avail for the table steadily rose above their heads.
"Now, Riche, quick," called out Delapine, "take a stereoscopic
photograph that all may see that the table is actually suspended in the
air above the ground."
"Right," said Riche, as he quickly took a couple of snapshots with
magnesium flashlight.
Immediately afterwards Delapine, who was standing on tip-toe on his
chair, suddenly withdrew his hands from the table as it rested poised
above his head.
"Stand back, stand back," shouted the professor, and as they all obeyed
the instruction the table, weighing about half a hundredweight, fell
with a tremendous crash, breaking one of its legs in two.
"Good God!" exclaimed Marcel, "what a smash. It nearly caved my head
in. I was too much interested watching it to jump back when you
shouted."
"Anyhow I shall have a couple of good stereo negatives to convince all
unbelievers," said Riche.
"It just missed my toe," said Payot, laughing, "but all the same I am
not yet convinced. The professor can make the table rise in spite of
our united efforts to hold it down, but I defy him to keep it down when
we all try to raise it up."
"I can do that with the greatest ease," said Delapine.
"The question before the House," said Marcel in English, "is that
Professor Delapine do exercise his will to prevent us from raising
up this table while we use all our strength in lifting it. Are the
honourable members agreed? I think the 'Ayes' have it."
"Now, ladies and gentlemen," he continued, "let us put our fingers
under the edge of the table. So--yes, that's right. Now then, one, two,
three, and all together--up she goes," and the four men and the ladies
strained until their arms ached, but the table refused to budge even
the fraction of an inch.
Suddenly Delapine removed his hands before any of the circle had time
to cease pulling, and called out loudly, "I retire, you have your way."
Such was the force exerted by the members of the circle that the table
seemed to be thrown into the air.
The jerk was so great that it sent them all reeling, and Villebois was
only just in time to save his wife from falling.
The guests stared at each other in amazement.
"I am sorry your table is broken," said Delapine to the host, "but
really you must blame the sitters for pulling so hard."
"Oh, that is nothing, my dear Delapine. The carpenter can mend it
to-morrow, and it will be as good as ever."
"By the way, ladies and gentlemen," said the professor, "what do you
say to a little music? I think it will calm our nerves, and render us
in a more favourable state of mind for some far more wonderful things
which I think I shall be able to show you. Perhaps Mademoiselle Payot
will favour us with some sweet melody with her violin."
Renée blushed, and the guests signifying their approval, she went and
fetched her music.
"What shall I play, Monsieur Delapine?" she asked a little nervously.
"Let me see. I think Sarasate's 'Zigeunerweisen' is very charming, but
no, let us have Schubert's 'Ave Maria' if you approve. It is a very
sweet, soothing air. Or, if you haven't got that perfect, you might
give us Chopin's 'Nocturne in E flat.' I think this haunting melody one
of the most delightful refrains in the world. It is truly an inspired
air."
Renée turned her violin, which was a very fine specimen of Villaume's
skill, given her by Dr. Villebois on her last birthday.
"Won't you accompany her?" said Villebois, for Delapine with his
acutely sensitive nature and remarkable talent had developed a
technique on the pianoforte which was envied by many of the great
artistes, and would have secured him a European reputation had he
turned his gifts in the direction of music instead of physics.
Villebois opened the grand piano which stood at the end of the room.
"No," replied Delapine, "I will take a short sleep with your
permission." And he folded his hands with his long sensitive
finger-tips touching each other as was his habit, while he sank back
in his chair. His face became suddenly transfigured, and changed to an
almost death-like pallor. Gradually he appeared to go off into a kind
of trance.
Renée, having tuned up her instrument, began playing.
Suddenly the guests were petrified with astonishment by hearing the
piano accurately accompanying her all by itself. They could see the
notes being struck as if by some invisible hand. What they particularly
noticed was the exquisite touch, the perfect time, and the wonderful
technique of the inconnu. They looked from the pianoforte to the
professor, and observed his fingers rapidly twitching in perfect time
with the corresponding notes on the piano.
"Do you notice Delapine's fingers?" whispered Riche to Villebois. "See,
they are keeping time with the music."
"It's more than wonderful, it's marvellous," replied Villebois.
But the professor was in a profound state of coma. He never stirred,
and they could only detect the nervous movements of his fingers, and a
corresponding tremble of his lips.
Renée felt inspired. The fact that her adored fiancé was accompanying
her, caused her to redouble her efforts, and she far surpassed her
extreme powers. Even her teacher, who was very reserved in his
compliments, would have been unable to have detected a fault had he
been present.
The conversation which had begun in whispers stopped by common consent,
and all listened enraptured.
At length the music ceased, and Renée observed the silent approval in
the faces of all the guests, but the professor never woke. Villebois
got up with the intention of awakening the professor, but Renée seized
his arm, and putting her finger to her lips, bade him sit down quietly.
All the guests remained sitting in profound silence.
Suddenly Renée walked over to where Delapine was sleeping, and clasped
him by the hand. She evidently felt something, for she relinquished his
hand and stole softly out of the room, leaving the door wide open.
Riche noticed Renée's departure, and whispered to Céleste, who silently
left the room to look for Renée. The guests had been waiting in
silence for about a minute when suddenly they heard the organ (which
Villebois had erected at the end of the library) pealing out the air
of the "Marche Funèbre." First came the prelude, then the solemn tones
of death and the mourners and the funeral service, and gradually the
Vox Celeste and the Vox Humana pealed forth the triumphant notes
"Oh, Death, where is thy sting, oh, Grave, thy victory? For Death is
swallowed up in Victory." The guests were entranced. The organ, which
had a superb tone, was played as it had never been played before.
"Surely angels must be playing it," said Céleste to Riche, who had
tracked her to the library, and found her working the bellows with all
her might. But the keys and stops moved of their own accord. At length
the air was finished, and the guests who had stood in awe just inside
the door of the library returned to the séance. Delapine had just woken
up.
"Well," he said to the astonished guests, "I have had such a curious
dream. I dreamt that I was in heaven and that I was playing the 'March
Funèbre' to a select crowd of angels."
"By Jove," said Marcel, "I would go to heaven to-morrow if I could hear
music like that. Why, my dear professor, I never heard such music in my
life, and I have heard some pretty good stuff, I assure you. You would
make Paderewski weep with mingled envy and rapture. His music one can
only compare to a school-girl strumming after yours."
"Oh, please, professor, give us one more piece," said Madame Villebois
and Céleste in one breath.
"Well, if I can, you shall have one more, but I shall want a rest
afterwards, as it fatigues me more than you have any idea of."
He whispered something to Renée, and she at once rose and tuned up her
violin. Placing the piece of music in front of her, she began playing
the prelude to 'En Sourdine' by Tellam. Then suddenly the piano took up
the refrain.
Have you ever read Dumas Fils' 'La Dame aux Camelias'? If you have
you will understand the piece. You remember where Marguerite has been
forsaken by her lover owing to the pressure put on him by his good but
mistaken father. Well, this piece reproduces the scene, and you can
positively hear, and even feel the poor girl sobbing her heart out. And
then comes the delightful refrain, and finally the exultant triumph of
Love. Never was melody more rapturously poured forth. The guests hung
on the refrain, and at the conclusion Madame Villebois was silently
weeping.
"I propose," said Marcel, unconsciously imitating the speaker of the
House of Commons on the conclusion of Sheridan's great speech during
the debate on Warren Hastings, "that we do now adjourn to the smoking
room to recover from the sublime effects of Delapine's and Renée's
melodies."
The professor went to his room to obtain his much needed rest on the
sofa, while the ladies chatted together.
"Dear ladies," said Marcel, when they had sat down, "what Tennyson
wrote in the Chorus Song of the 'Lotus Eaters' is quite appropriate to
what we have just heard:--
"There is sweet music here that softer falls
Than petals from blown roses on the grass,
Or night dews on still waters between walls
Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass;
Music that gentlier on the spirit lies,
Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes;
Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies."