singular aspect; an inward effort appeared there; it seemed to clear or cloud by some mysterious power, the effects of which Minoret had seen in dying persons at moments when they appeared to have the gift of prophecy. Several times she made gestures which resembled those of Ursula.
"Question her," said the mysterious stranger, to Minoret, "she will tell you secrets you alone can know."
"Does Ursula love me?" asked Minoret.
"Almost as much as she loves God," was the answer. "But she is very unhappy at your unbelief. You do not believe in God; as if you could prevent his existence! His word fills the universe. You are the cause of her only sorrow.—Hear! she is playing scales; she longs to be a better musician than she is; she is provoked with herself. She is thinking, 'If I could sing, if my voice were fine, it would reach his ear when he is with his mother.'"
Doctor Minoret took out his pocket-book and noted the hour.
"Tell me what seeds she planted?"
"Mignonette, sweet-peas, balsams—"
"And what else?"
"Larkspur."
"Where is my money?"
"With your notary; but you invest it so as not to lose the interest of a single day."
"Yes, but where is the money that I keep for my monthly expenses?"
"You put it in a large book bound in red, entitled 'Pandects of Justinian, Vol. II.' between the last two leaves; the book is on the shelf of folios above the glass buffet. You have a whole row of them. Your money is in the last volume next to the salon—See! Vol. III. is before Vol. II.—but you have no money, it is all in—"
"—thousand-franc notes," said the doctor.
"I cannot see, they are folded. No, there are two notes of five hundred francs."
"You see them?"
"Yes."
"How do they look?"
"One is old and yellow, the other white and new."
This last phase of the inquiry petrified the doctor. He looked at Bouvard with a bewildered air; but Bouvard and the Swedenborgian, who were accustomed to the amazement of sceptics, were speaking together in a low voice and appeared not to notice him. Minoret begged them to allow him to return after dinner. The old philosopher wished to compose his mind and shake off this terror, so as to put this vast power to some new test, to subject it to more decisive experiments and obtain answers to certain questions, the truth of which should do away with every sort of doubt.
"Be here at nine o'clock this evening," said the stranger. "I will return to meet you."
Doctor Minoret was in so convulsed a state that he left the room without bowing, followed by Bouvard, who called to him from behind. "Well, what do you say? what do you say?"
"I think I am mad, Bouvard," answered Minoret from the steps of the porte-cochere. "If that woman tells the truth about Ursula,—and none but Ursula can know the things that sorceress has told me,—I shall say that you are right . I wish I had wings to fly to Nemours this minute and verify her words. But I shall hire a carriage and start at ten o'clock to-night. Ah! am I losing my senses?"
"What would you say if you knew of a life-long incurable disease healed in a moment; if you saw that great magnetizer bring sweat in torrents from an herpetic patient, or make a paralyzed woman walk?"
"Come and dine, Bouvard; stay with me till nine o'clock. I must find some decisive, undeniable test!"
"So be it, old comrade," answered the other.
The reconciled enemies dined in the Palais-Royal. After a lively conversation, which helped Minoret to evade the fever of the ideas which were ravaging his brain, Bouvard said to him:—
"If you admit in that woman the faculty of annihilating or of traversing space, if you obtain a certainty that here, in Paris, she sees and hears what is said and done in Nemours, you must admit all other magnetic facts; they are not more incredible than these. Ask her for some one proof which you know will satisfy you—for you might suppose that we obtained information to deceive you; but we cannot know, for instance, what will happen at nine
"Question her," said the mysterious stranger, to Minoret, "she will tell you secrets you alone can know."
"Does Ursula love me?" asked Minoret.
"Almost as much as she loves God," was the answer. "But she is very unhappy at your unbelief. You do not believe in God; as if you could prevent his existence! His word fills the universe. You are the cause of her only sorrow.—Hear! she is playing scales; she longs to be a better musician than she is; she is provoked with herself. She is thinking, 'If I could sing, if my voice were fine, it would reach his ear when he is with his mother.'"
Doctor Minoret took out his pocket-book and noted the hour.
"Tell me what seeds she planted?"
"Mignonette, sweet-peas, balsams—"
"And what else?"
"Larkspur."
"Where is my money?"
"With your notary; but you invest it so as not to lose the interest of a single day."
"Yes, but where is the money that I keep for my monthly expenses?"
"You put it in a large book bound in red, entitled 'Pandects of Justinian, Vol. II.' between the last two leaves; the book is on the shelf of folios above the glass buffet. You have a whole row of them. Your money is in the last volume next to the salon—See! Vol. III. is before Vol. II.—but you have no money, it is all in—"
"—thousand-franc notes," said the doctor.
"I cannot see, they are folded. No, there are two notes of five hundred francs."
"You see them?"
"Yes."
"How do they look?"
"One is old and yellow, the other white and new."
This last phase of the inquiry petrified the doctor. He looked at Bouvard with a bewildered air; but Bouvard and the Swedenborgian, who were accustomed to the amazement of sceptics, were speaking together in a low voice and appeared not to notice him. Minoret begged them to allow him to return after dinner. The old philosopher wished to compose his mind and shake off this terror, so as to put this vast power to some new test, to subject it to more decisive experiments and obtain answers to certain questions, the truth of which should do away with every sort of doubt.
"Be here at nine o'clock this evening," said the stranger. "I will return to meet you."
Doctor Minoret was in so convulsed a state that he left the room without bowing, followed by Bouvard, who called to him from behind. "Well, what do you say? what do you say?"
"I think I am mad, Bouvard," answered Minoret from the steps of the porte-cochere. "If that woman tells the truth about Ursula,—and none but Ursula can know the things that sorceress has told me,—I shall say that you are right . I wish I had wings to fly to Nemours this minute and verify her words. But I shall hire a carriage and start at ten o'clock to-night. Ah! am I losing my senses?"
"What would you say if you knew of a life-long incurable disease healed in a moment; if you saw that great magnetizer bring sweat in torrents from an herpetic patient, or make a paralyzed woman walk?"
"Come and dine, Bouvard; stay with me till nine o'clock. I must find some decisive, undeniable test!"
"So be it, old comrade," answered the other.
The reconciled enemies dined in the Palais-Royal. After a lively conversation, which helped Minoret to evade the fever of the ideas which were ravaging his brain, Bouvard said to him:—
"If you admit in that woman the faculty of annihilating or of traversing space, if you obtain a certainty that here, in Paris, she sees and hears what is said and done in Nemours, you must admit all other magnetic facts; they are not more incredible than these. Ask her for some one proof which you know will satisfy you—for you might suppose that we obtained information to deceive you; but we cannot know, for instance, what will happen at nine
Similar Books
