""Eighteen this morning," he said, and his voice sounded like a cluck.
"A most delicious omelette was served. I was seated between Madame Le Mansel, who was moaning under her crown, and her mother, an old Normandy woman with round cheeks, who, having lost all her teeth, smiled with her eyes. She seemed very attractive to me. While we were eating roast-duck and chicken _a la creme_ the good lady told us some very amusing stories, and, in spite of what her grandson had said, I did not observe that her mind was in the slightest degree affected. On the contrary, she seemed to be the life of the house.
"After dinner we adjourned to a little sitting-room whose walnut furniture was covered with yellow Utrecht velvet. An ornamental clock between two candelabra decorated the mantelpiece, and on the top of its black plinth, and protected and covered by a gla.s.s globe, was a red egg.
I do not know why, once having observed it, I should have examined it so attentively. Children have such unaccountable curiosity. However, I must say that the egg was of a most wonderful and magnificent colour. It had no resemblance whatever to those Easter eggs dyed in the juice of the beetroot, so much admired by the urchins who stare in at the fruit-shops. It was of the colour of royal purple. And with the indiscretion of my age I could not resist saying as much.
"M. Le Mansel"s reply was a kind of crow which expressed his admiration.
""That egg, young sir," he added, "has not been dyed as you seem to think. It was laid by a Cingalese hen in my poultry-yard just as you see it there. It is a phenomenal egg."
""You must not forget to say," Madame Le Mansel added in a plaintive voice, "that this egg was laid the very day our Alexandre was born."
""That"s a fact," M. Le Mansel a.s.sented.
"In the meantime the old grandmother looked at me with sarcastic eyes, and pressed her loose lips together and made a sign that I was not to believe what I heard.
""Humph!" she whispered, "chickens often sit on what they don"t lay, and if some malicious neighbour slips into their nest a----"
"Her grandson interrupted her fiercely. He was pale, and his hands shook.
""Don"t listen to her," he cried to me. "You know what I told you. Don"t listen!"
""It"s a fact!" M. Le Mansel repeated, his round eye fixed in a side glance at the red egg.
"My further connection with Alexandre Le Mansel contains nothing worth relating. My friend often spoke of his verses to Tiphaine, but he never showed them to me. Indeed, I very soon lost sight of him. My mother sent me to Paris to finish my studies. I took my degree in two faculties, and then I studied medicine. During the time that I was preparing my doctor"s thesis I received a letter from my mother, who told me that poor Alexandre had been very ailing, and that after a serious attack he had become timid and excessively suspicious; that, however, he was quite harmless, and in spite of the disordered state of his health and reason he showed an extraordinary apt.i.tude for mathematics. There was nothing in these tidings to surprise me. Often, as I studied the diseases of the nervous centres, my mind reverted to my poor friend at Saint Julien, and in spite of myself I foresaw for him the general paralysis which inevitably threatened the offspring of a mother racked by chronic nervous headaches and a rheumatic, addle-brained father.
"The sequel, however, did not, apparently, prove me to be in the right.
Alexandre Le Mansel, as I heard from Avranches, regained his normal health, and as he grew towards manhood gave active proof of the brilliancy of his intellect. He worked with ardour at his mathematical studies, and he even sent to the Academy of Sciences solutions of several problems. .h.i.therto unsolved, which were found to be as elegant as they were accurate. Absorbed in his work, he rarely found time to write to me. His letters were affectionate, clear, and to the point, and nothing could be found in them to arouse the mistrust of the most suspicious neurologist. However, very soon after this our correspondence ceased, and I heard nothing more of him for the next ten years.
"Last year I was greatly surprised when my servant brought me the card of Alexandre Le Mansel, and said that the gentleman was waiting for me in the ante-room.
"I was in my study consulting with a colleague on a matter of some importance. However, I begged him to excuse me for a moment while I hurried to greet my old friend. I found he had grown very old, bald, haggard, and terribly emaciated. I took him by the arm and led him into the _salon_.
""I am glad to see you again," he said, "and I have much to tell you. I am exposed to the most unheard-of persecutions. But I have courage, and I shall struggle bravely, and I shall triumph over my enemies."
"These words disquieted me, as they would have disquieted in my place any other nerve specialist. I recognised a symptom of the disease which, by the fatal laws of heredity, menaced my friend, and which had appeared to be checked.
""My dear friend," I said, "we will talk about that presently. Wait here a moment. I just want to finish something. In the meantime take a book and amuse yourself."
"You know I have a great number of books, and my drawing-room contains about six thousand volumes in three mahogany book-cases. Why, then, should my unfortunate friend choose the very one likely to do him harm, and open it at that fatal page? I conferred some twenty minutes longer with my colleague, and having taken leave of him I returned to the room where I had left Le Mansel. I found the unfortunate man in the most fearful condition. He struck a book that lay open before him and, which I at once recognised as a translation of the _Historia Augusta_. He recited at the top of his voice this sentence of Lampridius:
""On the day of the birth of Alexander Severus, a chicken, belonging to the father of the newly-born, laid a red egg--augury of the imperial purple to which the child was destined."
"His excitement increased to fury. He foamed at the mouth. He cried: "The egg, the egg of the day of my birth. I am an Emperor. I know that you want to kill me. Keep away, you wretch!" He strode down the room, then, returning, came towards me with open arms. "My friend," he said, "my old comrade, what do you wish me to bestow on you? An Emperor--an Emperor.... My father was right.... the red egg. I must be an Emperor!
Scoundrel, why did you hide this book from me? This is a crime of high treason; it shall be punished! "I shall be Emperor! Emperor! Yes, it is my duty.... Forward.... forward!"
"He was gone. In vain I tried to detain him. He escaped me. You know the rest. All the newspapers have described how, after leaving me, he bought a revolver and blew out the brains of the sentry who tried to prevent his forcing his way into the Elysee.
"And thus it happens that a sentence written by a Latin historian of the fourth century was the cause, fifteen hundred years after, of the death in our country of a wretched private soldier. Who will ever disentangle the web of cause and effect?
"Who can venture to say, as he accomplishes some simple act: "I know what I am doing." My dear friend, this is all I have to tell. The rest is of no interest except in medical statistics. Le Mansel, shut up in an insane asylum, remained for fifteen days a prey to the most violent mania. Whereupon he fell into a state of complete imbecility, during which he became so greedy that he even devoured the wax with which they polished the floor. Three months later he was suffocated while trying to swallow a sponge."
The doctor ceased and lighted a cigarette. After a moment of silence, I said to him, "You have told me a terrible story, doctor."
"It is terrible," he replied, "but it is true. I should be glad of a little brandy."