"What is he doing?"
"He is twisting his mustache."
"And now?"
"He is taking a photograph out of his pocket."
"Whose photograph is it?"
"His own."
That was true, for the photograph had been given me that same evening
at the hotel.
"What is his attitude in this portrait?"
"He is standing up with his hat in his hand."
She saw these things in that card, in that piece of white pasteboard,
as if she had seen them in a looking-glass.
The young women were frightened, and exclaimed: "That is quite enough!
Quite, quite enough!"
But the doctor said to her authoritatively: "You will get up at eight
o'clock to-morrow morning; then you will go and call on your cousin at
his hotel and ask him to lend you the five thousand francs which your
husband asks of you, and which he will ask for when he sets out on his
coming journey."
Then he woke her up.
On returning to my hotel, I thought over this curious seance and I was
assailed by doubts, not as to my cousin's absolute and undoubted good
faith, for I had known her as well as if she had been my own sister
ever since she was a child, but as to a possible trick on the doctor's
part. Had not he, perhaps, kept a glass hidden in his hand, which he
showed to the young woman in her sleep at the same time as he did the
card? Professional conjurers do things which are just as singular.
However, I went to bed, and this morning, at about half past eight, I
was awakened by my footman, who said to me: "Madame Sable has asked to
see you immediately, Monsieur." I dressed hastily and went to her.
She sat down in some agitation, with her eyes on the floor, and without
raising her veil said to me: "My dear cousin, I am going to ask a great
favor of you."
"What is it, cousin?"
"I do not like to tell you, and yet I must. I am in absolute want of
five thousand francs."
"What, you?"
"Yes, I, or rather my husband, who has asked me to procure them for
him."
I was so stupefied that I hesitated to answer. I asked myself whether
she had not really been making fun of me with Dr. Parent, if it were
not merely a very well-acted farce which had been got up beforehand. On
looking at her attentively, however, my doubts disappeared. She was
trembling with grief, so painful was this step to her, and I was sure
that her throat was full of sobs.
I knew that she was very rich and so I continued: "What! Has not your
husband five thousand francs at his disposal? Come, think. Are you sure
that he commissioned you to ask me for them?"
She hesitated for a few seconds, as if she were making a great effort
to search her memory, and then she replied: "Yes--yes, I am quite sure
of it."
"He has written to you?"
She hesitated again and reflected, and I guessed the torture of her
thoughts. She did not know. She only knew that she was to borrow five
thousand francs of me for her husband. So she told a lie.
"Yes, he has written to me."
"When, pray? You did not mention it to me yesterday."
"I received his letter this morning."
"Can you show it to me?"
"No; no--no--it contained private matters, things too personal to
ourselves. I burned it."
"So your husband runs into debt?"