Part 8

At last that instant so ardently desired arrived. My comrade was in bed; I made certain that he was snoring. I rose, slipped into my trousers, and, not taking the time to put on my shoes, I hurried to the door, opened it very softly, and stood on the landing.

I felt my way upstairs, making no noise, in my bare feet, and holding my breath, I was so afraid of giving the alarm to the people in the house, and of seeing that unfamiliar felicity which I burned to know elude my grasp. At last I reached the appointed place at the top of the stairs; I heard a faint cough and my heart told me that I was near Clairette. I found a door ajar, and by the light of a night lamp, I saw the little servant awaiting me.

The girl wore nothing but a short petticoat and a jacket, evidently assuming that an elaborate toilet was not necessary in the mysteries of somnambulism; but no woman had ever seemed to me so bewitching, nor had I ever seen a woman look at me in such an expressive fashion.

“I was waiting for you,” she said; “let’s go right on with the lesson your companion interrupted so unpleasantly; I am anxious to know how you are going to make me young!”

“You don’t need to be made young,” I said; “all you need is to stay just as you are now.”

“Yes, that’s what I meant. Let’s make haste. See, I’ll sit down and shut my eyes as I did before.”

And without waiting for my reply, Clairette sat down on the foot of her bed, doubtless because the only chair in the room did not seem to her strong enough to stand our experiment in magnetism. I was careful not to urge my pupil to do otherwise, and I went at once and took my place by her side. I was too excited then to be timid; and Clairette, with her eyes still closed, contented herself with saying:

“Oh! is that the way? is that what makes a person young? Why, Pierre and Jérôme have taught me as much already!”

I had repeated my experiment several times and had fallen asleep in Clairette’s arms, when a great noise woke us both. The uproar seemed to come from the room beneath; we distinguished a confused murmur of voices, among others that of the inn-keeper, calling Clairette and shouting for a light.

What was I to do? If the inn-keeper himself should come upstairs, where was I to hide? There was nothing in Clairette’s room large enough to hide me from her master’s eyes. The young woman pushed me from the room and begged me to save her from the anger of her employer, who did not propose that the servants in his inn should have weaknesses for others than himself.

While she blew out her lamp and made a pretence of striking a light, I went downstairs with no very clear idea what I was going to say. I had no sooner reached the floor below than someone came to me, grasped my arm and whispered in my ear:

“Play the sleep-walker; I had an attack of indigestion, I took our host’s bedroom for the cabinet, and a tureen containing soup-stock for a night vessel. Don’t be alarmed, I will get you out of the scrape.”

I recognized the voice of my companion, and I at once recovered my courage. The inn-keeper, irritated because no light was brought, went up himself to Clairette’s room, where she was still striking the flint without using tinder--an infallible method of striking fire without striking a light. At last our host came down again with two lighted candles; he was on the point of entering his room, when he saw me walking about the corridor, in my shirt, with solemn tread, carrying my trousers under my arm, as I had not had time to put them on.

“What does this mean?” he demanded, gazing at me with an expression of surprise mingled with alarm; “what are you doing here, monsieur? who are you looking for, at this time of night? Was it you who came into my room and woke me up, with a dull noise that sounded like a drum, and filled the room with an infernal smell? Answer me!”

I was careful not to reply and continued to walk slowly along the corridor; the inn-keeper followed me with his two candles, and Pierre and Jérôme, the two men-servants, attracted by the noise, awaited with curiosity the upshot of the adventure. At last a groan came from the inn-keeper’s bedroom.

“Ah! there’s someone in my room!” he cried, turning pale; “come here, you fellows, and go on ahead.”

He pushed Pierre and Jérôme before him, and they entered the room where my companion was, leaving me in the corridor. Soon I heard our host’s voice, who seemed very wroth with Master Graograicus. I concluded that it was time to make peace between them, and with that end in view I stalked solemnly into the room where they were quarrelling.

At my appearance the hubbub ceased.

“Hush! silence! attention!” said my companion in a low tone; “it’s Tatouos, in a somnambulistic state. I will put him in communication with myself, and you’ll see that he will tell you all I have done to-night.”

The little hunchback came to me at once. He passed his hands in front of my face several times, put his forefinger on the end of my nose, in order, he said, to establish communication, and began his questions:

“What have I had to-night?”

“Pains in the stomach.”

“And then?”

“Nausea.”

“And then?”

“Colic.”

“There! what did I tell you just now?” cried my companion, turning toward the stupefied audience. “But let’s go on; this is nothing; I’ll wager that he will tell you everything I did.--What caused my trouble?”

“Indigestion.”

“And the indigestion?”

“From eating too much supper.”

“Surprising! prodigious!” said the host, crowding between his two servants.

“Hush!” said my companion; “don’t break the spell.--Then what did I do?”

“You got up.”

“With what purpose?”

“With the purpose of going to a certain place.”

“Did I take a light?”

“No, you had none.”

“How did I walk?”

“Feeling your way.”

“You hear him, messieurs; I felt my way because I had no light; he doesn’t make a mistake as to a single detail.--Let’s go on: where did I go?”

“Out into the corridor; you forgot that you had been told that it was the door at the left; you turned to the right and came into this room.”

“Exactly,--and then?”

“You found a soup-tureen, and you used it for----”

“Better and better!”

“The noise woke our host; he yelled and went out to get out a light, and meanwhile you hid the tureen under the bed.”

“Exactly. Look and see if he is mistaken in a single point!”

The servants did in fact find the tureen, which they soon returned to its place, holding their noses. The host was stupefied; but his spoiled soup-stock made him rather sulky, for he expected to make soup with it for a whole week. My companion, seeing what disturbed him, came back to me.

“What has it been my intention to do, since I discovered my mistake?”

“To give our host twelve francs as compensation for this accident.”

“Parbleu! exactly! Twelve francs! I told you so a moment ago, my dear host, to appease your wrath.”

“No, monsieur, I assure you that you never mentioned it.”

“No? Well, I had it on the tip of my tongue. Now you are satisfied, I hope, and I can wake our young man.”

He came to me and pinched the end of my little finger. I shook my head and rubbed my eyes, like a person just waking, and naturally asked what I was doing there.

My companion glanced at the people of the inn; they were so surprised by all that they had seen and heard, that they stared at me as at a supernatural being.

“Now let’s go back to bed,” said the crafty hunchback. “Until to-morrow, messieurs; I promise you that you will see many more wonderful things, if you allow us to make our experiments in peace.”

My companion took my arm and we returned to our room, leaving the inn-keeper and his servants assuring one another that all that they had just seen had really happened.

XII

MARVELOUS EXPERIMENTS OF THE LITTLE HUNCHBACK

When we were closeted in our room, my companion threw himself into my arms and embraced me joyfully.

“My boy, I am delighted with you,” he said; “you played your rôle like an angel! You are an invaluable fellow, and our fortune is made. To-night’s adventure will create a sensation.”

We went to bed well pleased with the way in which we had extricated ourselves from a bad scrape. I fell asleep thinking of Clairette, of her charms, of the pleasure I owed to her, of those I hoped still to enjoy; and my companion, reckoning what his first séance would be worth to him in a town where his reputation had obtained such a favorable start.

The little hunchback was not mistaken in his belief that the adventure of the night would bring us a crowd of curiosity seekers. The servants of the inn had risen early, in order to lose no time in telling all that they had seen and heard. The hair-dressers, the bakers, the grocers were the first to be informed; but that was quite enough to make it certain that the whole town would soon know what we were capable of doing. An adventure becomes so magnified by passing from mouth to mouth that we sometimes have difficulty in recognizing things that have happened to ourselves, when we hear others tell them. Everyone takes delight in adding some strange or marvelous detail, in outbidding his neighbor; thus it is that a brook becomes a rushing torrent, that a child who recites a complimentary poem without a mistake is a prodigy, that a juggler is a magician, that a man who has a soprano voice is a eunuch, that the man whose love is all for his country is a suspicious person in the eyes of him who loves only his own interest, and that a comet announces the end of the world.

The maid-servant, when she went to buy her ounce of coffee, learned from the grocer’s clerk that there were two most extraordinary men at the Tête-Noire inn, who were endowed with the power to tell you what you had done and what you meant to do.

“Pardieu! I must go and tell my mistress that,” said the maid as she left the shop; “she went to walk with her cousin the other night, and she don’t want her husband to know it; I’ll tell her not to go and let those sorcerers get scent of it.”

“What’s the news?” the old bachelor asked the barber, as he took his seat in the chair and put on his towel.

“What news, Monsieur Sauvageon! Peste! we have some very peculiar, very interesting people in town!”

“Tell me about them, my friend; go on!”

“Those two strangers, those doctors who arrived at the Tête-Noire last night, have been making experiments already.”

“Indeed?”

“It’s an absolute fact; I got it from Jérôme, the servant at the inn, who saw it and heard it.”

“The devil.”

“The somnambulist began his nocturnal expeditions last night.”

“Nocturnal expeditions at night! Are these somnambulists nyctalopes?”

“Yes, monsieur, they’re nycta--What do you call it, Monsieur Sauvageon?”

“Nyctalopes, my friend.”

“They’re nyctalopes, for sure.--What does nyctalopes mean?”

“It means that they see in the dark.”

“Oh! I understand! they’re like cats; in fact, somnambulists are as smart as cats in the dark.--But to return to this one at the Tête-Noire, you must know that he tells everything anybody’s done; and last night he discovered something that was hidden from all eyes!”

“I understand! he discovered some intrigue.”[B]

[B] _Le pot aux roses_; lit. the jar of roses.

“Well, not exactly that! His companion had a pain in the night--he was doubled up with colic caused by his supper.”

“And perhaps by some badly prepared dish, or a half-scoured saucepan; for the entertainment is not first-class at the Tête-Noire; I once ate a _fricandeau_ there that lay on my stomach three days, because it was seasoned with nutmeg, which always makes me ill. Nutmeg in a fricandeau! You must agree that that is perfectly horrible!”

“True, that inn doesn’t deserve its reputation; for at my sister’s wedding party, which was held there----”

“Your sister? which one, pray?”

“The one who married Lagripe, the sub-prefect’s indoor man--you know? the little man with blue eyes and a red nose?”

“Oh, yes! the father of the child the little sempstress opposite had.”

“Oh! as to that, I don’t believe a word of it! It’s all made up by evil-tongued gossips.”

“Look out, my friend, you are cutting me.”

“That’s nothing; it was a bit of straw on your cheek, that caught the razor.--You must know that if Lagripe had got the sempstress with child, my sister wouldn’t have married him.”

“Why not, pray? Between ourselves, my good fellow, your sister----”

“What’s that? what do you mean, Monsieur Sauvageon?”

“All right, my friend. Give me a bit of powder, and let us return to the somnambulist.--You were saying that he cured his companion’s colic last night?”

“I don’t say that he cured him; but I tell you that he discovered the most hidden things, among others a soup-tureen that was under the landlord’s bed.”

“And which someone had probably stolen and hidden there until the time came to carry it away.”

“That is quite possible; but this much is certain, that he told everything that was in the tureen!”

“Peste! that is rather strong! Did Jérôme tell you what the tureen contained?”

“Certainly; it contained the supper of the magician, the doctor, the hunchback one.”

“That is beyond me! To pilfer a supper, and then have it found in its natural state, after eating it--I confess that that is a most remarkable trick!”

“But, Monsieur Sauvageon, I didn’t say that the supper was in its natural state; on the contrary, it was the result of the colic that was found!”

“Morbleu! my man, why didn’t you say so? You keep me here two hours about the--Put on a little _pommade à la vanille_.”

And, as our old bachelor was shaved and combed, the hair-dresser left him, to repeat his story to another of his customers, taking care to change it or add something to it. It is delightful to many people to have a piece of news to tell, and to make comments thereon.

But, talking of anecdotes, master author, you are terribly loquacious, and you seem to take pleasure in listening to all the tittle-tattle of a small town. Surely Brother Jacques did not repeat to Sans-Souci the old bachelor’s conversation with his barber, or the maid-servant’s with the grocer’s clerk. How could he have known about them?

True, reader; I plead guilty; I will try not to intrude my own remarks again in our soldier’s narrative of his adventures; and to begin with, I will allow him to resume at once.

We had no sooner risen and rung for our breakfast, than the host entered our room, holding in his hand a large sheet of paper, which he presented to my companion.

“Messieurs,” he said, bowing to the ground, “here is a list of the people who wish to consult you this evening, and who have entered their names here.”

“Very well--give it to me. Have you written the names, titles, age and occupation of each one?”

“They are all there, monsieur.”

“Very good. Leave us, and send your servant Clairette to us for a moment; I have some orders to give her relative to my séance this evening.”

The host bowed with the respect of a Chinaman passing a mandarin, and left the room, promising to send the girl to us at once.

My companion scanned the list; it was quite long and promised numerous proselytes. The little hunchback was reading it aloud and indulging in preliminary conjectures concerning the names, when Clairette entered the room.

The girl seemed rather embarrassed. She kept her eyes on the floor and her hands wrapped in her apron. For my part, I was as red as fire, and I did not know what to say. Clairette’s presence caused a revolution in my whole being; I was honestly in love with her; I felt a genuine passion for her; and after the proofs of affection which she had given me during the night, I believed that she loved me sincerely. I think that if I had been told then that I must marry the little servant, or else give her up forever, I should not have hesitated to give her my hand! And what I felt, I will wager that many young men have felt like me. One loves so earnestly the first time!--Ah! my dear Sans-Souci, I was very young then and very green! But I have learned since that the more experience one acquires, the less pleasure one has.

My companion locked the door. No curious person must overhear our conversation with Clairette. Then he returned to us and opened the interview with a roar of laughter, which made me open my eyes in amazement, while Clairette dropped the corners of her apron.

“My friends, you are still rather unsophisticated,” he said at last; “you, my dear Jacques, who are in love with a girl who will have forgotten you to-morrow; and you, my little Clairette, who believe in witchcraft, and imagine that a person can look young all her life. We are no more magicians than other men are, my dear girl; but you must help us to impose on the fools who contend for the pleasure of consulting us. You must do whatever we want, first, because that will give you an opportunity to make fun of lots of people, which is always pleasant; and secondly, because we will pay you handsomely--I with money, and this young man with love; and if you should refuse to help us, you would deprive yourself of a large number of little perquisites that are not often to be had in a small town.”

This speech put us all at our ease. Clairette, who saw that the little hunchback was acquainted with everything, smilingly accepted a double louis which he slipped into her hand, and asked nothing better than to act as our confederate. Everything being arranged, Master Graograicus took up his list, requested me to write down the girl’s replies, so that we might not make any mistakes, and began his examination, to which Clairette replied as well as she could.

“Annette-Suzanne-Estelle Guignard, thirty-six years of age?”

“She lies; she’s forty-five at least. She’s an old maid, who’d like to be married on any terms; but no one will have her; in the first place, because she’s lame; and then because she chews tobacco.”

“Enough.--Antoine-Nicolas La Giraudière, forty years of age, clerk in the mayor’s office?”

“He’s a fat fellow, as round as a ball; they say that he’s not likely to set the North River on fire; perhaps he wants to consult you about giving him a little wit.”

“Impossible! People always think that they have enough.”

“Oh! wait a minute: his wife has already had four girls, and she’s furious because she hasn’t got any boys.”

“That’s it; I understand. He wants me to tell him a way to make boys.--Next. Romuald-César-Hercule de La Souche, Marquis de Vieux-Buissons, seventy-five years old, former Grand Huntsman, former light horseman, former page, former--Parbleu! he needn’t have taken the trouble to put ‘former’ before all his titles! I presume that he doesn’t ride or hunt any more. What can he want of me?”

“He has just bought a small estate in the suburbs; he is having a dispute with his vassals; he claims that they’re rabbits----”

“Rabbits! his vassals?”

“No--wait a minute; I made a mistake, it’s stags--_cerfs_.”

“Ah! very good, I understand what you mean--serfs.”

“And then, whenever there’s a marriage among ’em, he insists on having the bride come and pass an hour alone with him, and bless me! the peasants don’t take to that! The result is he’s always quarrelling with ’em.”

“That’s all right; I know enough about him.--Angélique Prudhomme, Madame Jolicœur, thirty-two years of age, laundress to all the notables of the town. The deuce! what an honor!”

“Ah! she’s a hussy, I tell you, is Madame Jolicœur! She keeps the town talking about her. She launders for the officers in the garrison and goes to balls with ’em.”

“Is she pretty?”

“Oh! so-so.--A saucy face, and a bold way--like a cuirassier! She’s already been the means of setting more than twelve people by the ears, and only a little while ago, on the town holiday, she waltzed with the drum-major, who quarrelled with a sapper because she’d made an appointment with the sapper to take a walk in the labyrinth. That would have been a serious matter, if Monsieur Jolicœur hadn’t turned up! But he’s good-natured; he made peace between the drum-major and the sapper, swearing to the latter that his wife didn’t intend to break her word to him, and that it was pure forgetfulness on her part.”

“That husband knows how to live.--Let’s go on. Cunégonde-Aline Trouillard, forty-four years old and keeps a very popular café.”

“Ah! that’s the lemonade woman! She’s always having the vapors and sick headaches and--in short, she always thinks she’s sick and passes her time taking medicine instead of staying at her desk.”

“She must be a very valuable woman to the druggists!”

“Her husband tries to be smart, to play the chemist; he makes coffee out of asparagus seed and sugar out of turnips. I’m sure that he’ll come to consult you too.”

I continued to make memoranda of Clairette’s answers, and we had almost exhausted the list, when there was a knock at our door. I answered the knock; it was our landlord, who had come to inform us that the mayor wished to see us, and that he expected us at his office. We could not decline that invitation. My companion donned his best coat and lent me a pair of black silk knee-breeches that reached to my heels, the little hunchback having purchased them at secondhand from a great poet, who had them from an actor at one of the boulevard theatres, who had them from a member of the Academy who was paying court to a ballet dancer, at whose rooms he had left them.

We started, somewhat disturbed concerning the results of our visit. However, my companion, who was very quick-witted, hoped to find a way out of the dilemma. We arrived at the mayor’s abode and were ushered into his study. We saw a short, lean man, whose eyes sparkled with intelligence and animation. From the first questions that he asked us, my companion saw that he had to do with a redoubtable party. The mayor was a scholar; he was thoroughly acquainted with several abstract sciences, among others, medicine, chemistry, botany and astronomy. In his presence, my poor little hunchback lost his loquacity and his presumption. The mayor, perceiving our embarrassment, chose to put an end to it.

“I have no intention of preventing you from earning your living,” he said, with a smile; “far from it! You practise magnetism, I understand, and cure all diseases by its means; that is very well. I sincerely desire the welfare of my constituents, I am especially earnest in trying to cure them of those absurd prejudices, those ancient superstitions, to which men are only too much inclined. Magic, witchcraft, magnetism, somnambulism are certain to present many attractions to lovers of the marvelous. I know that it is vain to combat the opinions of mankind; there is but one means to cure them, and that is to allow them to be duped themselves. That is why I am glad to have charlatans come to this town. It is always an additional lesson to the inhabitants, for sorcerers never leave a place without making dupes. So I give you permission to magnetize my people.”

The mayor’s remarks were not complimentary to us; however, my companion bowed low as he thanked him for his kindness.

“Doubtless,” said the mayor, “you have some remedy that you sell _gratis_--as the custom is. Let me see what it is.”

The hunchback immediately handed him one of his boxes of pills. The mayor took one and threw it into a small vessel, where it was decomposed. He scrutinized the bread for a moment, then returned the box and said with a smile:

“Go, messieurs, and sell lots of them; they are not dangerous.”

Thus ended that visit. We returned to our inn, well pleased that we had not shown monsieur le maire our philters and charms.