THE DEBACLE
La vie est vaine:
Un peu d'amour,
Un peu de haine,
Et puis--bon jour.
La vie est brève;
Un peu d'espoir,
Un peu de rêve,
Et puis--bon soir.
(Monte-Naken).
Concurritis horae momento cità mors venit.
(_Horace_, S. 1 1.7).
"Amer sanz paine rien ne vault."--Old French Proverb.
"Professor," said Monsieur Payot after Delapine had had a good rest,
and the guests had assembled in the room of the séance once more. "Did
you really play the piano?"
"Of course," said Delapine, "and the organ too. Did you not see me send
your daughter into the library to work the bellows?"
"Yes, I distinctly remember her tip-toeing out of the room, but I had
no idea she went for that purpose. Besides she has never learnt to play
the organ."
"But you remember, papa, I used to work the bellows in the old village
church."
"That is true, Renée," said Payot, patting her on the head.
Renée looked up, surprised, and her eyes filled with tears, as this was
the first time she had been caressed by her father since her mother
died.
"What on earth can Henri have done," she asked herself, "to have
effected such a wonderful change in my father? I really must ask him
when we are alone."
"Can you explain how you managed to play?" asked Riche.
"Did you notice my fingers jerking?" replied Delapine.
"Yes," answered both Riche and Villebois together, "and we noticed that
they kept time with the music."
"I think it would be more accurate to say that the music kept time with
my fingers, eh?" said Delapine smiling.
"But that does not explain anything," said Riche.
"On the contrary," said Delapine, "it explains a great deal."
"In what way?"
"I will try to point it out to you.
"A nervous impulse or current is generated in my brain which flows
along my nerves. This current, or series of waves, extends far beyond
my body, and my will can influence its direction and force. Thus I
can make it move in any direction I please. I can make it lift, or
depress, or shift the objects lying in its path. Thus I can cause this
wave-force to depress the keys of a piano, or an organ either softly
or loudly. I can even cause it to give rise to taps and noises, and I
can control these noises, and by generating supplementary overtones I
can imitate any instrument I please. Since this nervous impulse passes
down my nerves, it causes the twitching movements in my fingers which
you observed, and these are synchronous with the movements of the keys
of the instrument, or in popular language both my fingers and the keys
move simultaneously."
"What is the nature of this impulse?" asked Riche.
"That I cannot tell you. I only know the vibrations are exceedingly
rapid. Some people call it odic force, others magnetic fluid, others
nervo-magnetic impulses. But these terms are worse than valueless, they
are actually harmful, as they tend to mislead by giving rise to the
idea that the impulse is known and explained, whereas we are profoundly
ignorant of the nature of the waves. You will invariably find ignorant
people ascribing these unknown impulses to magnetism or electricity,
and calling it magnetic force, but it has nothing in common with
magnetism, since no magnetic field is developed, nor has it, as far
as we know, anything to do with electricity. People when they know
nothing about a force give it a mysterious name, and imagine by so
doing that they have explained it, whereas they have done nothing of
the sort. If I guess rightly, this force which emanates from my will
acts much in the same way that gravity does, by pulling two bodies
towards each other. When I project the force in a strong current, or
as we physicists call it an ethereal wave-motion, into the table, I
can either make this force positive and draw the table away from the
ground, or make it negative and thus neutralise the combined pulling
force which you all exerted to raise the table. But this is merely a
surmise. Future research may upset the theory altogether, or at any
rate profoundly modify it. You see how ignorant I am. Nevertheless,
although I cannot explain this force I have the power not only to move
heavy bodies, but to cause instruments to play, and even apparently
to create material bodies by causing the molecules of a body to leave
it and to re-combine to form another body outside. Nor is this power
confined to the immediate vicinity. I can affect bodies, and cause
them to appear in phantom form at prodigious distances away. You may
well shrug your shoulders and shake your heads and smile, but you will
be compelled to repeat what Tertullian wrote seventeen centuries ago,
'Certum est quia impossibile est.'"[8]
"Are these wonderful phenomena described in books?" asked Riche.
"Certainly," replied the professor, "they have been recorded in
innumerable books for thousands of years past."
"I should like to study the subject," added Riche. "Can you recommend
me a good text book to commence my studies with?"
"Begin by reading the four Gospels, and the Acts of the Apostles," said
Delapine with a smile.
"Are you serious, professor?" asked Riche.
"Never more so, I assure you. I know no better books to begin your
studies with. Jesus Christ was not only endowed with the greatest
amount of psychic power the world has ever known, but all his
disciples (with one important exception) were specially chosen for
their mediumistic power. They failed to select psychists to replace
them, and as they could not transmit the power, the moment they died
all miracles, _i. e_., supernormal phenomena ceased. And now, my dear
Villebois, pray bring me another table and remove this broken one."
Villebois did as Delapine requested, and the guests sat down round it
again.
"I feel the presence of some spirit," Delapine remarked. "Let us put
our hands on the table and find out if it is so. Everyone present will
please keep his feet at the back of the chair as no one must touch the
table with his foot, even by accident."
Having assured himself that his instructions had been obeyed, he asked
them all to join hands and to wait in silence.
After waiting patiently ten minutes a slight tremor shook the table.
"Three raps will mean 'yes,' two raps 'no.'
"Are there any spirits present?" asked Delapine.
Three knocks were heard and felt by all the sitters.
"What is your name?"
Slowly the raps spelt out M-a-r-i-a L-e-o-n-o-r-a.
"Maria Leonora, why, that is my dear mother's maiden name," whispered
Renée to Villebois.
Again the raps spelt out M-a-r-i-a L-e-o-n-o-r-a.
The financier turned pale as death, while Renée trembled all over.
"I want Monsieur Delapine to retire to the cabinet, I think I can then
collect power enough to appear and speak," was rapped out.
Delapine leaned over to Riche and whispered in his ear,
"Whatever you do, you must not disturb me nor touch any materialised
form you may see without permission from the person. Get the camera
ready and use your largest plate, and be prepared to expose by the
magnesium light the instant when you get permission by the voice. Now
put the red shade over the lamp and turn it down lower."
In the meantime Delapine entered the cabinet and lay down on the couch
which was the sole piece of furniture inside it.
Immediately he fell into a kind of trance. The curtains were half open,
and the guests could dimly observe him and hear his slow measured
breathing.
Slowly a mist seemed to issue forth from the cabinet which gradually
condensed into the outlines of a woman attired in a black silk dress
with a white lace collar.
In a few seconds the form could be distinctly seen moving towards the
guests. She approached Renée who recognised her in the dim light.
"Is that you, darling mother?" she cried, "you don't seem changed a
bit."
"Yes, Renée, I am your mother, and you don't appear changed either, as
I have seen you ever so many times since I passed over. I have often
stood at your bedside and watched over you. Turn the lamp higher,
I have power enough left to stand it for a few moments. But I must
envelope myself in a white garment just to prevent the light from
affecting me."
They turned the light up, and all the guests beheld the features of a
beautiful woman with light golden-brown wavy hair, enveloped in a white
gauze-like fabric.
"Pray don't touch me," she said to Payot, who tried to put his arms
round her. "You will kill my medium if you do."
"What!" said Villebois, "Do you mean to say that it will injure M.
Delapine?"
"Indeed it will," she replied, "but I cannot tell you the reason."
"Oh, my dear husband," she said, "promise me that you will be kind to
my little Renée. Your conduct to her since I passed over has caused me
such intense grief."
"I promise," said Payot, feeling heartily ashamed of himself.
"May I take a photograph with a flashlight?" enquired Riche.
"You may, but you will not see me any more, for it will cause my form
to melt away. As it is, I can only stay a few minutes."
"Oh, mother dear," said Renée, "give me a kiss--just one kiss before
you leave me."
"Do not be anxious, Renée. I shall see you again very soon. And now,
sir, you may take my photograph as I am about to be called away."
Riche, having focused the camera, pressed the ball, and a dazzling
light followed as the magnesium powder blazed up.
Everyone saw the figure of Renée's mother and Delapine asleep behind
her in the cabinet.
As the smoke dispersed, the guests observed the figure slowly melting
away in the air.
She was gone.
A female voice was heard behind the curtain, "Au revoir, Renée, my
child, I shall soon see you again."
Villebois turned up the light and looked into the cabinet. Delapine was
sleeping like a child. He stepped up to the professor as if to wake
him, but Riche remembering his orders, sprang forward and pulled him
back.
"Don't let anyone wake Delapine," he cried. "He warned me to allow no
one to disturb him, but to let him wake up naturally."
Suddenly Marcel called out, "Riche, Riche come here quickly. Don't you
smell something?"
"Yes," said Riche, "you are right, there is something burning, I can
smell it."
They both ran into the next room, and on opening the door found
the landing full of dense smoke. Hurrying back they each took one
of the girls by the arm and rushed out of the room and through the
conservatory into the garden, followed by Payot, while Villebois ran
after them with Madame Villebois on his arm. But they were all too
concerned about their own safety to bestow a thought on the professor,
who remained in the cabinet.
Villebois and Marcel, having seen the ladies safe in the summer-house,
ran round to the garden gate and hurried to the nearest fire alarm,
while the others ran to the house to ascertain the cause of the fire.
Renée looked round and missed her lover.
"Henri! Henri!" she cried, "where are you? They have left him in the
cabinet. O God be merciful!"
She ran after Riche in an agony of fear, "Quick, doctor, come and help
me and get the professor away, he is asleep in the cabinet."
"My dear child, I dare not wake him; he told me on no account to
disturb him, but we can stand by and remove him as soon as there is any
danger. It will only be the work of a minute to carry him out into the
garden. You need not be alarmed, there is nothing to fear." At this
moment Céleste joined them.
"What can have caused the fire?" she asked.
"Oh, pray don't discuss that now. Let us set to work to put it out,"
said Riche.
"Do you think Pierre has had anything to do with this?"
"How could Pierre have done it? He is not in the house," replied Riche,
"He left some time ago; don't you remember his telling us that he had
to go to his office at once, and asking us to apologise to Madame
Villebois for him?"
"Of course I do," replied Céleste, "but I am not so sure that he did
leave the house."
"What do you mean?" asked Renée, who had heard her sister's remark.
"I am afraid he wants to harm Professor Delapine," said Céleste.
"Nonsense," cried Renée, "you surely don't mean to say he wants to
injure Delapine?"
"No, no," said Riche, getting alarmed in turn, "she didn't mean
that exactly, she merely meant to say--that we must set to work to
extinguish the fire if we want to save the house. Now, mademoiselle,
you go back to the summer-house with Céleste, and don't stir until I
come back, and I promise you no harm shall come to Delapine. Meanwhile
I will walk round the house."
With these words he left the two girls, and proceeded to assist the
others in tracing the source of the fire.
"I wonder if there can be any truth in Céleste's remark," muttered
Riche to himself. "No, no, what Céleste is saying is all nonsense, I
will never believe it. I feel convinced that Pierre is in his chambers
by this time."
On the day before the séance, Pierre had purchased a quantity of
shavings and a large bottle of naphtha together with some phosphorous
which he dissolved in it.
"Ah," he said to himself, "this will make a famous blaze, and no one
will be able to guess who did it."
On arriving at the house of Dr. Villebois some time after dinner on the
evening of the séance, he availed himself of a favourable opportunity,
at a moment when the servant was not looking, to deposit a small black
bag in a corner of the hall. Just at the beginning of the séance, as
will be remembered, he slipped out of the room and recovering his bag
from its hiding place, went cautiously upstairs to Riche's bedroom,
taking extra precautions that no one should see him enter. Quickly
making a small heap of the shavings under the bed, he soaked them with
the mixture of naptha and phosphorous. Then making sure that everything
was in order for his dastardly purpose he left the room as stealthily
as he had entered it, noiselessly locking the door behind him, and
placing the key in his pocket. "Now," he muttered, "I must get back to
the 'spiritualists' and watch their movements from my place of vantage,
and then mon brave Delapine, we shall see."
Pierre returned to the room adjoining the séance room, which opened
into the conservatory, and taking up a position behind a curtain from
where he could see what went on without being observed, he cautiously
opened the little phial containing some of the liquid he had stolen
from Paul's laboratory on the evening of his visit to the analyst, and
proceeded to fill a small hypodermic syringe with the fluid.
"Confound that fire," he muttered. "It seems an uncommonly long time
in starting. I'll sneak back and see if anything has gone wrong." No
sooner had he opened the door of the dining-room, when he perceived
the strong odour of burning wood and naptha, and looking up the stairs
he observed a bluish cloud of smoke slowly making its way along the
ceiling, and spreading down the stairs.
"That seems to be all right," he said to himself, as he returned to his
hiding-place.
In about five minutes' time the smoke began slowly to penetrate the
room and make its way into the séance chamber.
"Keep calm, keep calm," he said to himself, as he heard a commotion
among the guests in the adjoining room.
Peeping through the keyhole, Pierre saw the guests hurriedly rise up
and rush out through the conservatory into the garden.
As soon as he had ascertained that the last person had left the room,
he cautiously opened the door and crept into the séance room. He first
adjusted the blinds of the conservatory window and door, so that no
light could penetrate, and then turned up the lights sufficiently high
to observe the professor in the cabinet. There he was, clear enough,
sleeping as calmly as an infant.
Pierre cautiously looked round the room to make sure that no one was
watching him, and when he had thoroughly satisfied himself on that
point, he crept into the cabinet, and kneeling down beside the sleeping
man, paused for a moment. A feeling of fear, almost amounting to
terror, unnerved him for a few seconds, and then mentally upbraiding
himself for his cowardice, he cautiously rolled back the professor's
shirt sleeve and gently picked up a fold of the skin. Holding the
injection syringe in his other hand, he thrust the point well home into
the tissues.
The guests in the garden were suddenly startled by an exclamation from
Riche.
"Look," he cried, pointing to his bedroom window out of which a wreath
of dense smoke was curling.
"Follow me, there is the fire." The whole party ran round the garden
into the house. Villebois flew to the telephone to hurry up the fire
brigade, while the others hastened upstairs through the blinding smoke
to the source of the mischief in Riche's bedroom. But the smoke was too
suffocating to effect an entrance, and the guests stood on the landing
half dazed with fear and excitement. They all tied handkerchiefs round
their mouths, and following Riche's directions endeavoured to quench
the flames.
Dr. Riche ran downstairs to obtain help, and passed Villebois, who was
making his way to the bedroom through the smoke.
"Ma foi!" said Riche to himself, "I can't leave Delapine like this.
I must get him out of the house in spite of what he said, whether he
likes it or not," and putting his thoughts into practice he ran down
into the dining room.
"I'll swear," he said to himself, "there is someone moving about in the
séance room. I wonder who it can be. I thought everyone had gone into
the garden. I must go and see who it is."
Pierre was just in the act of pushing the piston home when he heard
someone walking towards the door of the séance room. In his hurry he
became nervous and his hand shook, so that the needle of the syringe
broke off abruptly at the neck of the shaft.
"Damn," said Pierre to himself, as he flung the needle on one side. "I
have only been able to inject a third of the contents of the syringe
into his arm."
He let the syringe fall in his haste, and flew to the door, and
throwing all his weight against it, managed to close it before he
could be seen by the person opening it. Quickly turning the key in
the lock, he ran to one of the side windows. To open it and vault on
to the garden path was the work of an instant, and while Riche was
endeavouring to force the door, Pierre had gained the garden gate, and
had passed outside into the street. Quickly running along close to the
garden wall, he turned down the corner of the first cross street, first
looking back to make sure that he had not been followed.
"Lucky for me that no one saw me leave the house," he said to himself.
"Anyhow, I have a good start, and I shall be able to get clean away
without being seen."
Hailing a passing fiacre, he shouted to the cocher to stop, and opening
the door he jumped in.
"Where shall I drive to?" asked the coachman.
"Drive straight on, and I will give you an address later on. Mais vite,
vite!" he shouted, as looking through the small window at the back of
the coach he caught sight of Riche running after him some distance
behind.
"See, here is ten francs, and you shall have ten more if you will drive
quickly."
The cocher, delighted at the idea of so large a pourboire, lashed his
horse into a gallop, and the cab rapidly out-distancing Riche, soon
left him far behind and disappeared in the distance.
"Gee! that was a narrow shave, but no one recognised me, thank
goodness. Another second and Riche must have seen me, but I was just
too quick for him. I hope I have got that syringe about me." He felt in
all his pockets, but could not find it anywhere.
"Oh! damn," he exclaimed, "that's awkward. I surely can't have left it
in old Delapine's room. Yes, I must have dropped it when that fellow,
whoever he was, came to the door. The worst of it is that someone is
sure to find it. Well, never mind, it's got no needle in it, so they
cannot see how it was used. Besides they might think it belonged to
Riche or Villebois. Confound it. All this trouble comes through my
helping the professor to see what the other world is like. On second
thoughts I will call to-morrow and apologise for my having been obliged
to run away to my chambers, and then I can find out how the land lies.
I'll back my wits against theirs any day."
"Where shall I drive to now?" said the cocher, looking through the
window.
"Oh! drive to the Café Américain. No, on second thoughts I prefer
Maxim's."
The coachman turned his horse round and speedily found his way into the
Rue Royale, where he drove to the place indicated.
"This is better," said Pierre to himself. "Jolly good thing I had the
sense not to tell him to drive to my diggings, as they might have found
out the cocher's number, and got to know where he drove me." Pierre
paid the cocher, and pushed his way through the great wheeling door
with its plate glass leaves into the well-known café. The musicians
had just recommenced playing, and taking a seat he looked around him,
scowling, and feeling as angry and miserable as he could be. A double
stream of men and women kept constantly passing in and out through the
revolving doors which reminded one of a Nile-steamer's paddle-wheel on
end. A faint sickly smell of cigarette smoke mingled with violet powder
and patchouli and the vinous breath of a hundred human beings filled
the air. The whole room was a babel of voices. At one end of the room
were a group of men and elegantly dressed ladies drinking their café
noir or sipping iced drinks through straws.
An American with his companion--obviously a young Englishman--entered
at this moment.
"What a scene," said the younger as he peered around him. "Why, it's
nothing else but a beastly phallic temple. I feel absolutely ashamed to
be here."
"Well, I guess I don't agree. See there," and he pointed to a
respectable bourgeois citizen who had just sat down at one of the
little marble tables with his wife and daughter on either side of him.
"Why, they are only here for some music and coffee. They might be part
of a Fifth Avenue congregation in a New York church. They certainly
have no consciousness of immorality, and they seem ridiculously happy
and contented. That sort of thing is quite impossible in my country,
or yours either I guess. We are conscious of the presence of vice all
the time, and console ourselves by feeling 'onco guid' as the Scotch
say, whereas here in France they certainly make vice charming. No
one observes anything immoral or improper in this place, and that is
why everybody is happy and gay, and enjoys himself to the full. We
Americans and Englishmen take our pleasures too seriously, and that is
why we are nothing but a congregation of highly moral rakes. Virtue
after all is merely a want of opportunity, and because the opportunity
is to be found here, we set the place down as immoral. But we forget
it is we who are immoral not the place. You English imagine that
everybody will be damned who does not act or think exactly as you do.
You forget that Paris has made pleasure and its pursuit a fine art.
After six in the evening the entire town is engaged in nothing else.
What do you suppose all these telegraph boys are hurrying around with
'petite bleus' for all day long except to enable Marie for four sous
to inform her Alphonse that she is quite alone as her father has just
left the house, or to warn Raoul or Charles that he must put off his
visit to-night because her husband has unexpectedly returned from the
country. My dear sir, I assure you that this great city is absorbed in
toil all day long merely to procure the necessary money to purchase
diamonds for Madame, to buy a new hat for Suzanne, or to pay the rent
of Marguerite's flat in the Rue Pigalle."
"Good Lord!" exclaimed the young Englishman, "I had no idea that such
shocking escapades went on."
"Perhaps that may be so, but it is all the more reason why you want to
do them."
"But surely, my dear sir! you don't imagine for a moment that I
would----"
"Yes, you may well say that, you old humbug," he interrupted, "but I
can see by your eyes that you are just as bad as any of them," and the
American nudged him and laughed heartily.
A pretty girl, charmingly dressed in evening costume, sided up to them
at this moment, all laughter with sparkling eyes that beamed with
merriment. "A bien venue mes enfants, allon boire un coup avec nous,"
and she dropped a little curtsey.
The American bowed politely and lead his companion away. But the
younger one turned his head round and looked at her and smiled back.
"Oh, my dear fellow, do let's go and join her."
"I thought you were superior to all that sort of thing."
"Oh, well I've changed my mind."
"So soon!" said the elder, and shaking with laughter, yielded to his
wishes. Immediately the two, arm in arm, turned round and followed her
to her table as meekly as lambs.
"Say, sonny, we'll sit down right here with this little daisy and enjoy
ourselves, I guess we'll have some fun presently."
The younger one blushed up to the roots of his hair, but did not
apparently offer the slightest opposition.
The whole room glowed with the rosy light of countless electric
candles which stood on every table. These were thronged with rows
of fashionably dressed couples all talking, laughing, and drinking,
between which waiters in evening dress struggled to force a passage,
holding trays covered with dishes and iced drinks high above their
heads.
Pierre cautiously glanced around and then sat down. In front of him
were three men, evidently Frenchmen, who were talking simultaneously
in very loud tones and laughing immoderately. At another table were
four girls in evening dress drinking iced champagne, and turning their
heads to gaze at every lady and gentleman who entered. A smartly
dressed lady, whom he heard addressed as Julie by the other three sat
with them. She was adorned with superb jewelry and had on a perfectly
fitting gown. Undoubtedly very attractive, her finely cut features,
brilliant eyes and marble-like complexion irresistably attracted
Pierre, who seeing her glance boldly at him, bowed slightly as he held
his glass to his lips. This was sufficient encouragement for her, so
with a slight inclination of her head she gathered up her dress and
came and sat opposite him.
He at once called one of the waiters and ordered a bottle of champagne.
Julie tried to draw him into a conversation, but Pierre was too
perturbed to pay much attention to her, and she could see that it was
almost an effort for him to be polite.
A woman with a basket of flowers and chocolates done up in little
packages with coloured silk ribbons, observed Pierre speaking to her,
and immediately came up to them, and asked the lady if she would like
a bunch of violets. Julie smiled and looked at the lawyer with one of
those oblique seductive glances so characteristic of the born coquette.
Pierre tried to look interested and smiled back with a slight nod.
"The violets are only three francs each, lady, but then the lady must
have a box of chocolates also."
Julie took up one bunch after another and apparently was delighted with
their perfume, for she ordered the woman to collect the whole lot of
bunches and wrap them up in a large paper parcel, and took one of the
largest chocolate boxes as well. Julie thanked Pierre for the flowers,
and leisurely opened the box and proceeded to eat a few of the creams.
Pierre, who had been too absorbed to follow what had been going on, was
suddenly startled by the woman asking him to pay for the entire parcel
of flowers, and chocolates.
"What!" exclaimed the lawyer as the woman demanded eighty-five francs,
"I don't understand you. Do you expect me to pay over four louis for
those worthless flowers? Do you take me for a damned fool or what?"
"That is the correct price, monsieur, I cannot accept less."
Pierre stared at her like a search-light, while his lips assumed an
amused and sarcastic smile.
Julie looked at Pierre and tapped impatiently on the ground with
her beaded slipper, as Pierre, putting his hand in his pocket, drew
out a varied collection of gold and silver coins. He looked at them
thoughtfully for a moment, and then apparently changing his mind, rose
up and deliberately walked past her, without turning his head, to a
table in another part of the room.
"Beast," hissed the siren, as she turned round and glared at him with
clenched fingers. "I shall pay you out for this."
But the compliment was quite lost on Pierre.
He had no sooner sat down than the woman with the flowers went up to
him.
"Monsieur has forgotten to pay for the flowers and chocolates that he
bought for the lady."
"I never bought anything for her; just go and tell her to pay for them
herself."
The flower seller went up to the manager, who straight-way came over to
where Pierre was sitting.
"Pardon, monsieur, I understand that monsieur bought some flowers and
chocolates for the lady over there."
"I did nothing of the sort. Look here, monsieur," he added, "if this
woman gives me any more of her cheek I will inform the police."
Several people got up from their seats, and a crowd began to collect.
The music which was in full swing suddenly ceased abruptly. Ultimately
the lady, seeing that there was no help for it, settled the bill.
"Ah, coquin," she said, shaking her finger at Pierre, "you shall pay
this little bill many times over before I have done with you, just wait
and see."
Pierre settled down in one of the cosy corners, and ordering a petit
verre of absinthe, became absorbed in a copy of _Le Soir_.
Julie's fit of temper caused a flush of colour to spread over her
cheeks, which greatly increased her charms, and Pierre, who happened to
glance up from his newspaper, could not help admiring her, and tried
to attract her attention once more, but she disdainfully turned her
head aside. After hesitating for a few moments Julie called one of the
waiters, who was evidently on intimate terms with her, and whispered
something in his ear. He gave a slight nod and returned to his work.
Nearly an hour passed; and Pierre, feeling tired, put on his hat, and
after waiting outside for a few minutes hailed a fiacre and drove to
his chambers.
Had he looked back he would have seen a man running swiftly behind his
carriage.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 8: It is true because it is impossible.]