Doctor Pascal

lde remained entire afternoons without exchanging a word; and there were continual outbursts of ill

Saturnin resounded with his bursts of eloquence. He was a sort of apostle, a popular and fiery orator, a florid speaker, much given to the use of metaphors. And he preached on the nothingness of modern science

urned home later, having remained to pray for an hour in a dark corner of a chapel. From this time she was never absent from the services, returning languid, and with the luminous eyes of a seer; and the Ca

e an explanation with Martine. He came down early

that pleases you," he said. "I do not believe in oppressing any o

stopping in her work,

e are those who don't t

uch an air of convic

of you are in possession of health and of perfect wisdom. Martine, if you contin

ked him full in the face. An infinite tenderness, an immense desolation passed over the face of the ol

ur, you do

and the good Martine favored. While he had occupied himself with facts, endeavoring to keep from going beyond the phenomenon, and succeeding in doing so, through his scientific discipline, he had seen her give all her thoughts to the unknown, the mysterious. It was with her an obsession, an instinctive curiosity which amounted to torture when she could not satisfy it. There was in her a longing which nothing could appease, an irresistible call toward the unattainable, the unknowable. Even when she was a child, and still more, later, when she grew up, she went straight to the why and the how of things, she demanded ultimate causes. If he showed her a flower, she asked why this flower produced a seed, why this seed would germinate. Then, it would be the mystery of birth and death, and the unknown forces, and God, and all things. In half a dozen questions she woul

as not. Thus she had almost completely given up her habitual occupations, abandoning herself to a sort of unconquerable indolence, remaining for hours at a time with her hands in her lap, her gaze lost in vacancy, rapt in the contemplation of some far-off vision. Now she, who had been so active, so early a riser, rose late, appearing barely in time for the second breakfast, and it could not have been at her toilet that she spent these long hours, for she forgot her feminine coquetry, and would come down with her hair scarcely combed, negligently attired in a gown buttoned awry, but even thus adorabl

nature that she had been making, to serve as plates to a work on artificial fecundations. Some large red mallows, of a new and singular coloring, faded in their vase before she had finished copying them. And yet for a whole afternoon she worked enthusiastically at a fantastic design of dr

conceits! And I waiting for the copy of those mallows that you have left to die there. And

her fierce convictions, not wishing to dispute. But dou

eality," she a

is bold philosophy from

, then; let us accept as possible the most absurd chimeras, let us live in the realm of nightmare, outside of laws and facts. For do you not see that there is no longer any law if you

pped. Now she was laying large strokes of blue crayon on the pastel, bringing ou

by, and he was surprised and uneasy, when midnight struck, that he had not yet heard her return to her room. She would have had to pass through the study, and he was very certain that she had not passed unnoticed by him. Going downstairs,

m the depths of this moonless sky the stars shone so large and bright that they lighted the earth with a pale, mysterious radiance. He leaned over the balustrade of the terrace, and examined the slope and the stone steps which led down to the railroad; but there was not a movement. He saw nothing but the round motionless tops of the little olive trees. The idea then occurred to him that she must

de! Clo

mained silent a

the infinitely soft lake of blue shadows. And then he called her with all the force of his lungs. He returned to the plane trees. He wen

had sprung up among the stones, quickly scorched a russet brown by the sun, resembling the long threads of a woolen carpet. And, under the tufts of this feeble

f the sky, and Pascal was crossing it to hurry to the orchard, when he almost fell over a form tha

Are you

ands clasped under the back of her neck, her face turned toward the sky

yself and calling you for an hour

t unclosed

es

senseless! Why did

efusing all explanation, and with a stubborn

o bed, naughty child. Yo

ouse, but she would not move. He ended by sitting down beside her on the

f doors. At least answer me

look

d to mount up among the stars. She seemed wholly absorbed in

u know compared to what there is surely up there. Yes, if I did not answer you it was

oved him profoundly. He stretched himself on the grass besid

r griefs are not rational. It give

ht me much, however, and I have learned more myself, being with you. Besides, they are things that I f

eaceful confidence of the beautiful night. He did not speak, f

With science you were going to penetrate the secret of the world, and make the perfect happiness of humanity a reality. According to you, we were progressing with giant strides. Each day brought

simply. "If ten centuries more be neces

complete knowledge, not to be able to rest in perfect felicity, freed from scruples and doubts. Is it living to advance with tortoiselike pace in the darkness, not to be able to enjoy an hour's tranquillity, with

o, began to

velation. It marches at its human pace, its very effort is its gl

rupted hi

ey swear to replace everything-and that by pure reason, with stability and wisdom. Doubtless I am like the children. When I am promised anything I wish that it shall be given me at once. My imagination sets to work, and the object mus

re of protestation and impatience

I build my house when science shall have demolished the old world, and while she is waiting to construct the new? All the ancient city has fallen to pieces in this catastrophe of examination and analysis; and all that remains of it is a mad population vainly seeking a shelter among its ruins, while anxiously looking

he delusive charm of the unknown. Since we can never know all, what is the use of trying to know more than we know already? Since the truth, when we have attained it, does not confer immediate and certain happiness, why not be satisfied with ignorance, the darkened cradle in which humanity slept the deep sleep of infancy? Yes, t

A falling star shot across the constellation of Cassiopeia, like a flaming arrow. And the luminous universe above turned slowly on its

atured voice, "did your Capuchin

s against everything you have taught me, and it is as if the knowledge which I owe to yo

e a well-balanced mind-you have a good, little, round, clear, solid headpiece, as I have often told you. You will soon calm down. But

d only by a

strong staff for the traveler to lean upon, and the march become

ou whom I love. No, no! tell me nothing; do not tell me that I shall soon calm down. At this moment that would only irritate me still more. I know well that you deny the supernatural. The mysterious for you is only the inexplicable. Even you concede that we shall never know all; and therefor

ay on the still warm gr

There is no halt to be looked for, no tranquillity in renunciation and wilful blindness. We must go on, go on in any case with life, which goes on always. Everything that is proposed, a ret

nd angrily. And her voic

s upon the world. Your analysis opens up all the wounds of humanity to display their horror. You tell everything; y

r with a cry of a

; in order to know everythin

ose, and sh

ibly perishes because he is weak-there are no two beings equal, either in health, in beauty, or intelligence; everything is left

exist. For centuries, men thought to remedy evil by character. But that idea is being exploded, and now they propose justice. Is nature just? I t

ious species. No, no; that is crime. There is in that only foulness and murder. He was right this evening in the church. The earth is corrupt, scien

e despairingly on the stillness of the night. He tr

are the cause of all my suffering. I can scarcely endure it when I think that we are not in accor

ied to reas

t be foolis

ng to him with a feverish force. And she sobbed louder and louder, in su

hing belonging to your past errors-your books, your papers, your manuscripts. Make this sacrifice, mast

t he r

s too much.

e you. There is something wanting in our affection. So far it has been profound but unavailing, and I have an irresistible

nt he released himsel

ng nonsense. I have left

desire! I will take you far, far away. We wi

ent! No

t, with the light shadows of its olive trees, the darkness of its pine and plane trees, in which the saddened voice of the fountain was singi

sture Pascal seized her hand and drew it down toward the earth in his. And no word further w

rried after her, and rounded the clump of plane trees just in time to see her rush into the house like a whirlwind. He darted in after her, ran up the stairs, and struck against the door of her room, which she violently bolted. And here he stopped and grew calm, by a strong effort resisting the desire to cry out, to call her again, to break in the door so as to see her once more, to convince her, to have her all to himself. For a momen

locks forced, and his drawers rifled on his return. He no longer employed the young girl to classify and copy his notes, for several of them had disappeared, as if they had been carried away by the wind. He did not even venture to employ her to correct his proofs, having ascertained that she had cut out of an article an entire passage, the sentiment of which offended her Catholic belief. And thus she remained idle, prowling about the rooms, and having an abundance of time to watch for an occasion which would put in her possession the key of the large press. This was her dream, the plan which she revolved in her mind during her long silence, while her eyes shone and her hands burned with fever-to have the key, to open the press, to take and burn everything

a part of himself. Especially, in this perpetual lying in wait for the creatures of his brain, was Pascal tortured by the thought that the enemy was in his house, installed in his very heart, and that he loved her in spite of everything, this creature whom he had made what she was. He was left disarmed, without possible defense

you love me, too; you act in this way because you love me, and it is abominable. It would be better to

es said ardently that she would willingl

drawers, you would make a great heap of all my works and burn them! You would, would you not? Do you know that that

ce; "to kill evil, to prevent it fro

chanced in on one of these quarrels, she remained alone with Pascal, after Clotilde had fled to hide herself in her room. There was

house is a hell!"

into his house. He was not deceived. He knew perfectly well that the two women had seen each other during the day, and that he owed to this meeting, to a skilful embittering of Cloti

eparate since you can no longer agree. You ought to send her to h

himself, pale

incurable wound. If she must one day go away, I wish that we may be able to love

oo hasty. Therefore she assumed h

e to confess that I saw her a little while ago; yes, it is better that you should know, notwithstanding my promise to be silent. Well, she is not happy; she makes a great many complaints, and you may imagine

, tried to force him to an explanation in this way, but he had always avoided it. Although she had tortured him for years past, and he knew her thoroughly, he yet remaine

hose abominable papers which are there in the press! Consider for an instant if you should die suddenly, and those papers should fall into strange hands. We shou

for a time, but a

f you never to speak on that sub

belong to it. Oh, I know you do all you can not to belong to it! I myself am sometimes astonished at you. I ask myself where you can have come from. But

ant to his desire to defend himself, in spite

ing the truth I do the only good possible. In the first place, those papers are not intended for the public; they are only personal notes which it would be painful to me to part with. And then, I know well that you

, for he saw that she was urging him, leadin

you put down everything in your papers, you can testify with truth that the family has rendered greater services to others than it has ever received. On two occasions, but for us, Plassans would have been in a fine pickle. And it is perfectly natural that we should have reaped only ingratitude and envy,

he has many elements of corruption. I have not sought to hide them, I have rather, perhaps, exposed them to view. But you greatly misunderstand me if you imagine that I believe in her final dissolution, because I point out her wounds and her

All she asked was to be helped; she demanded from all her children an effort like her own. Thus she cited the example of Eugene, the great man who had fallen from so lofty a height, and who resigned himself to being a simple deputy, defending until his latest breath the fallen government from which he had derived his glory. She was also full of eulogies of Aristide, who had never lost hope, who had reconquered, under the new government, an exalted position, in spite of the terrible and unjust catastrophe which had for a moment buried him under the ruins of the Union Unive

t to be moved, "you do not belong to us. I ha

his head

ou reflect you

ke the sacrifice. But what turned the doctor cold was the manner in which Martine, in a subdued voice, soothed her. She was evidently her accomplice. She repeated that it was necessary to wait; not to do anything hastily; that mademoiselle and she had taken a vow to get the better of monsieur, by not leaving him an hour's peace. They had sworn it. They would reconcile him with the good God, because it was not possible that an upright ma

for him! Now he was indeed alone; he had around him only traitresses, who poisoned the very air he breathed. But these two still loved him. He might perhaps have succeeded in softening them, but when he knew that his mother urged them on, he understood their fierce persistence, and he gave up the hope of winning them back. With the timidity of a man who had spent his life in study, aloof from women, notwithstanding his se

ttle girls who smiled at him. True, Clotilde was there, but his affection for her was of a different kind-crossed at present by storms-not a calm, infinitely sweet affection, like that for a child with which he might have soothed his lacerated heart. And then, no doubt what he desired in his isolation, feeling that his days were drawing to an end, was above all, continuance; in a child he would survive, he would live forever. The more he suffered, the greater the consolation he would have found in bequeathing this suffering, in the faith which he still had in life. He considere

torture caused by acts of treachery, by suspicions, which grew stronger every day, when a sudden recollection made him start. In his fear of being robbed, he had finally adopted the plan of carrying the key of the large press in his pocket. But this afternoon, oppressed by the heat, he had taken off his jacket, and he remembered having seen Clotilde hang it up on a nail in the study. A sudden pang of terror shot through him, sharp and cold as a steel point; if she had felt the

" he cried. "Th

ng flashes of the storm which was passing southward in the dark sky, sufficed her, bathing everything in a livid phosphorescence. The old press, with its broad sides, was wide open. Already she had emptied the top shelf, taking down the papers in armfuls, and throwing them on the long table in the middle of the room, where they la

assinate me!" repeat

th, obstinately resolved upon her work of destruction, without showing confusion or repentance, like a combatant who has right upon h

. "Kill me, or I shal

h so rough a grasp that she c

d steals, it

And, on the instant, seeing her so breathless, so divine, in her virginal slender height, with her tapering limbs, her

re again, by Heaven! Come here: begin by arra

, ma

h had entered into her flesh, as it were. The candle which flared up in the heavy night air, lighted th