ADOLPHE LECAMUS IS FLABBERGASTED BUT FRANK
Theophrastus stood on the table and gazed sheepishly round the empty
tent. His fine ardour was extinguished.
But I take up the narrative in the words of his memoirs:
"I found myself on the table," he writes, "in the middle of the broken
crockery, and all the company fled. My guests' rough fashion of taking
leave of me had confused me a little. I wished to get down, but by
a singular phenomenon, I found as much difficulty in getting down
from the table as I had displayed address in mounting it. I went down
on my hands and knees; and by dint of the most careful precautions
reached the ground safely. I called Marceline, who did not answer;
and presently I found her trembling in our bedroom. I shut the door
carefully and set about explaining matters. Her appealing eyes, full of
tears, demanded an explanation; and I felt it my duty as a husband to
hide from her no longer my great and amazing trouble of mind.
"'My dear Marceline,' I said, 'you must be entirely at a loss to
understand what happened this evening; but never mind, I don't
understand it myself. Still, by putting our heads together, reinforced
by our love for one another, I do not despair of arriving at the
correct explanation of it.'
"Then I coaxed her to go to bed; and when at last her head rested
peacefully on the pillow, I told her my story. I gave her a complete
account of my visit to the cellars of the Conciergerie, concealing
nothing, and describing exactly the extraordinary feelings which
troubled me and the unknown force which appeared to control me. At
first she said nothing; in fact she seemed to shrink away from me as if
she were frightened of me; but when I came to the document in the wall
which revealed the existence of the treasures, at once she asked to see
it.
"I took it from my pocket-book, and showed it to her by the light of
the moon, which was at its full. Like myself, like all who had already
seen it, she recognised my handwriting; and crossed herself for all the
world as if she suspected something diabolical in it.
"However the sight of the document seemed to relieve her; and at once
she said that it was most fortunate that we had at hand an expert in
Spiritualism, that Adolphe would be of the greatest service to us in
this difficult matter. We had the paper on the bed before us in the
moonlight; and in the presence of this unshakable witness, she was
presently compelled to admit that I was a reincarnated soul dating from
two hundred years before.
"Then, as I was once more asking who I could have been, she annoyed me
for the first time since our marriage.
"'Poor Theophrastus, you couldn't have been up to much,' she said.
"'And why not?' I said sharply, for I was nettled.
"'Because, dear, this evening you sang a song in slang; and the ladies
whose names you mentioned certainly couldn't have belonged to the
Aristocracy. When one associates with the Slapper, the Lock, and Manon
of Versailles, one can't be up to much.'
"She said this in a tone of contempt which I put down to jealousy.
"'But I also spoke of La Maréchale de Boufflers,' I said again rather
sharply. 'And you ought to know that in the time of the Regent all the
ladies of the Court had some queer nickname. It's my belief, on the
contrary, that I was a man of quality--what do you say to a favourite
of the Regent?'
"I spoke rather huffily; and she gave me a kiss, and admitted that
there was a good deal in what I said.
"The next morning she repeated her suggestion that we should take
Adolphe into our confidence. She declared that his wide experience in
these matters and his profound knowledge of metaphysics could not but
be of the greatest help to a man who had buried treasures two hundred
years ago and wished to recover them.
"'You'll see, dear, that he's the man who'll tell you what your name
was,' she said.
"I yielded to her persuasion; and as we sat in the garden after lunch,
I explained to him the inner meaning of the strange occurrence of the
evening before. I took him back from the song to the document, from the
document to the Conciergerie, watching the effect of the astonishing
revelation on the expression of his face. It was clear that he was
utterly astounded; and it appeared to me very odd that a professed
Spiritualist should be so flabbergasted at finding himself face to face
with a retired man of business, sound in mind and body, who claimed
to have existed two hundred years before. He said that my behaviour
at yesterday's dinner and the incomprehensible phrases to which I had
given utterance at the Conciergerie were indeed calculated to prepare
him for such a confidence, but as a matter of fact he had not been
expecting anything of the kind, and was entirely nonplussed. He would
like to have actually in his hand the proofs of such a phenomenon.
"I took out my document and handed it to him. He could not deny its
authenticity; he recognised the handwriting. Indeed that recognition
drew a sharp explanation from him; and I asked him the reason of it.
He answered that my handwriting on a document two hundred years old
explained a heap of things.
"'What things?' I said.
"He confessed loyally that till that moment he had never understood my
handwriting and that it had always been impossible for him to see any
connection between it and my character.
"'Is that so?' I said. 'And what is your conception of my character,
Adolphe?'
"'Well, you won't be angry, if I'm frank with you?' he said, hesitating.
"'Of course not,' I said.
"On this assurance he described my character: it was that of a worthy
business man, an honest merchant, an excellent husband, but of a man
incapable of displaying any firmness, strength of mind, or energy. He
went on to say that my timidity was excessive, and that my kindness of
heart, to which he was fully alive, was always apt to degenerate into
sheer feebleness.
"It was not a flattering portrait; and it made me blush for myself.
"'And now,' said I, hiding my mortification, 'you've told me what you
think of my character: what do you think of my handwriting?'
"'It's the exact opposite of your character,' he said quickly. 'It
expresses every sentiment utterly opposed to your nature as I know
it. In fact, I can't think of a more direct antithesis than your
character and your handwriting. It must be, then, that you haven't the
handwriting which goes with your actual character, but the handwriting
of the Other.'
"I might have been angry, if Signor Petito had not told me much the
same thing; as it was, I exclaimed, 'Oh, this is very interesting! The
Other, then, was a man of energy?'
"I thought to myself that the Other must have been some great leader.
Then Adolphe went on; and as long as I live I shall never forget his
words, so painful did I find them:
"'Everything shows, these thin strokes, the way they are joined to
one another, their manner of rising, mounting, topping one another,
energy, strength of will, pigheadedness, harshness, ardour, activity,
ambition... for evil.'
"I was dismayed; but in a flash of genius I cried:
"'What is evil? What is good? If Attila had known how to write, he
might have had the handwriting of Napoleon!'
"'Attila was called "the flail of God,"' he said.
"'And Napoleon was the flail of men,' I retorted on the instant.
"I was hard put to it to restrain my anger; but I asserted that
_Theophrastus Longuet could only be an honest man before this life,
during this life, and after this life_.
"My dear wife agreed with me, warmly. Adolphe saw that he had gone too
far, and apologised."