THE VICTIM.
"My dear Leon," said M. Renault, "you remind me of a college
commencement. We have listened to your dissertation just as they listen
to the Latin discourse of the professor of rhetoric; there are always in
the audience a majority which learns nothing from it, and a minority
which understands nothing of it. But every body listens patiently, on
account of the sensations which are to come by and by. M. Martout and I
are acquainted with Meiser's works, and those of his distinguished
pupil, M. Pouchet; you have, then, said too much that is in them, if you
intended to speak for our benefit; and you have not said enough that is
in them for these ladies and gentlemen who know nothing of the existing
discussions regarding the vital and organic principles.
"Is life a principle of action which animates the organs and puts them
into play? Is it not, on the contrary, merely the result of
organization--the play of various functions of organized matter? This is
a problem of the highest importance, which would interest the ladies
themselves, if one were to place it plainly before them. It would be
sufficient to say: 'We inquire whether there is a vital principle--the
source of all functions of the body, or if life be not merely the result
of the regular play of the organs? The vital principle, in the eyes of
Meiser and his disciple, does not exist; if it really existed, they say,
one could not understand how it can leave a man and a tardigrade when
they are desiccated, and return to them again when they are soaked.'
Now, if there be no vital principle, all the metaphysical and moral
theories which have been hypothecated on its existence, must be
reconstructed. These ladies have listened to you patiently, it is but
justice to them to admit; but all that they have been able to gather
from your slightly Latinish discourse, is that you have given them a
dissertation instead of the romance you promised. But we all forgive you
for the sake of the mummy you are going to show us. Open the colonel's
box."
"We've well earned the sight!" cried Clementine, laughing.
"But suppose you were to get frightened?"
"I'd have you know, sir, that I'm not afraid of anybody, not even of
live colonels!"
Leon took his bunch of keys and opened the long oak box on which he had
been seated. The lid being raised, they saw a great leaden casket which
enclosed a magnificent walnut box carefully polished on the outside, and
lined on the inside with white silk, and padded. The others brought
their lamps and candles near, and the colonel of the 23d of the line
appeared as if he were in a chapel illuminated for his lying in state.
One would have said that the man was asleep. The perfect preservation of
the body attested the paternal care of the murderer. It was truly a
remarkable preparation, and would have borne comparison with the finest
European mummies described by Vicq d'Azyr in 1779, and by the younger
Puymaurin in 1787.
The part best preserved, as is always the case, was the face. All the
features had maintained a proud and manly expression. If any old friend
of the colonel had been present at the opening of the third box, he
would have recognized him at first sight.
Undoubtedly the point of the nose was a little sharper, the nostrils
less expanded and thinner, and the bridge a little more marked than in
the year 1813. The eyelids were thinned, the lips pinched, the corners
of the mouth drawn down, the cheek bones too prominent, and the neck
visibly shrunken, which exaggerated the prominence of the chin and
larynx. But the eyelids were closed without contraction, and the sockets
much less hollow than one could have expected; the mouth was not at all
distorted like the mouth of a corpse; the skin was slightly wrinkled but
had not changed color; it had only become a little more transparent,
showing, after a fashion, the color of the tendons, the fat and the
muscles, wherever it rested directly upon them. It also had a rosy tint
which is not ordinarily seen in embalmed corpses. Doctor Martout
explained this anomaly by saying that if the colonel had actually been
dried alive, the globules of the blood were not decomposed, but simply
collected in the capillary vessels of the skin and subjacent tissues
where they still preserved their proper color, and could be seen more
easily than otherwise, on account of the semi-transparency of the skin.
The uniform had become much too large, as may be readily understood;
though it did not seem, at a casual glance, that the members had become
deformed. The hands were dry and angular, but the nails, although a
little bent inward toward the root, had preserved all their freshness.
The only very noticeable change was the excessive depression of the
abdominal walls, which seemed crowded downward toward the posterior
side; at the right, a slight elevation indicated the place of the liver.
A tap of the finger on the various parts of the body, produced a sound
like that from dry leather. While Leon was pointing out these details to
his audience and doing the honors of his mummy he awkwardly broke off
the lower part of the right ear, and a little piece of the Colonel
remained in his hand.
This trifling accident might have passed unnoticed, had not Clementine,
who followed with visible emotion all the movements of her lover,
dropped her candle and uttered a cry of affright. All gathered around
her. Leon took her in his arms and carried her to a chair. M. Renault
ran after salts. She was as pale as death, and seemed on the point of
fainting.
She soon recovered, however, and reassured them all by a charming smile.
"Pardon me," she said, "for such a ridiculous exhibition of terror; but
what Monsieur Leon was saying to us ... and then ... that figure which
seemed sleeping ... it appeared to me that the poor man was going to
open his mouth and cry out when he was injured."
Leon hastened to close the walnut box, while M. Martout picked up the
piece of ear and put it in his pocket. But Clementine, while continuing
to smile and make apologies, was overcome by a fresh accession of
emotion and melted into tears. The engineer threw himself at her feet,
poured forth excuses and tender phrases, and did all he could to console
her inexplicable grief. Clementine dried her eyes, looked prettier than
ever, and sighed fit to break her heart, without knowing why.
"Beast that I am!" muttered Leon, tearing his hair. "On the day when I
see her again after three years' absence, I can think of nothing more
soul-inspiring than showing her mummies!" He launched a kick at the
triple coffin of the Colonel, saying: "I wish the devil had the
confounded Colonel!"
"No!" cried Clementine with redoubled energy and emotion. "Do not curse
him, Monsieur Leon! He has suffered so much! Ah! poor, poor unfortunate
man!"
Mlle. Sambucco felt a little ashamed. She made excuses for her niece,
and declared that never, since her tenderest childhood, had she
manifested such extreme sensitiveness. M. and Mme. Renault, who had seen
her grow up; Doctor Martout who had held the sinecure of physician to
her; the architect, the notary, in a word, everybody present was plunged
into a state of absolute stupefaction. Clementine was no sensitive
plant. She was not even a romantic school girl. Her youth had not been
nourished by Anne Radcliffe, she did not trouble herself about ghosts,
and she would go through the house very tranquilly at ten o'clock at
night without a candle. When her mother died, some months before Leon's
departure, she did not wish to have any one share with her the sad
satisfaction of watching and praying in the death-chamber.
"This will teach us," said the aunt, "how to stay up after ten o'clock.
What! It is midnight, all to quarter of an hour! Come, my child; you
will get better fast enough after you get to bed."
Clementine arose submissively, but at the moment of leaving the
laboratory she retraced her steps, and with a caprice more inexplicable
than her grief, she absolutely wished to see the mummy of the colonel
again. Her aunt scolded in vain; in spite of the remarks of Mlle.
Sambucco and all the persons present, she reopened the walnut box,
kneeled down beside the mummy and kissed it on the forehead.
"Poor man!" said she, rising, "How cold he is! Monsieur Leon, promise me
that if he is dead you will have him laid in consecrated ground!"
"As you please, Mademoiselle. I had intended to send him to the
anthropological museum, with my father's permission; but you know that
we can refuse you nothing."
They did not separate as gaily, by a good deal, as they had met. M.
Renault and his son escorted Mlle. Sambucco and her niece to their door,
and met the big colonel of cuirassiers who had been honoring Clementine
with his attentions. The young girl tenderly pressed the arm of her
betrothed and said: "Here is a man who never sees me without sighing.
And what sighs! Gracious Heavens! It wouldn't take more than two to fill
the sails of a a ship. The race of colonels has vastly degenerated since
1813. One doesn't see any more such fine looking ones as our unfortunate
friend."
Leon agreed with all she said. But he did not exactly see how he had
become the friend of a mummy for which he had just paid twenty-five
louis. To divert the conversation, he said to Clementine: "I have not
yet shown you all the nice things I brought. His majesty, the Emperor of
all the Russias, made me a present of a little enamelled gold star
hanging at the end of a ribbon. Do you like button-hole ribbons?"
"Oh, yes!" answered she, "the red ribbon of the Legion of Honor. Did you
notice? The poor colonel still has a shred of one on his uniform, but
the cross is there no longer. Those wicked Germans tore it away from him
when they took him prisoner!"
"It's very possible," said Leon.
When they reached Mlle. Sambucco's house, it was time to separate.
Clementine offered her hand to Leon, who would have been better pleased
with her cheek.
Father and son returned home arm in arm, with slow steps, giving
themselves up to endless conjectures regarding the whimsical emotions of
Clementine.
Mme. Renault was waiting to put her son to bed; a time-honored and
touching habit which mothers do not early lose. She showed him the
handsome apartment above the parlor and M. Renault's laboratory, which
had been prepared for his future domicile.
"You will be as snug in here as a little cock in a pie," said she,
showing him a bed-chamber fairly marvellous in its comfort. "All the
furniture is soft and rounded, without a single angle. A blind man could
walk here without any fear of hurting himself. See how I understand
domestic comfort! Why, each arm-chair can be a friend! This will cost
you a trifle. Penon Brothers came from Paris expressly. But a man ought
to be comfortable at home, so that he may have no temptation to go
abroad."
This sweet motherly prattle stretched itself over two good hours, and
much of it related to Clementine, as you will readily suppose. Leon had
found her prettier than he had dreamed her in his sweetest visions, but
less loving. "Devil take me!" said he, blowing out his candle; "One
might think that that confounded stuffed Colonel had come to thrust
himself between us."