All the persons who accompanied the doctor recoiled with horror at the sight of the Schoolmaster, for it was he. He was not mad, but he pretended to be both mad and dumb. He had ma.s.sacred La Chouette, not in a fit of madness, but in a fit of fever, such as he had been attacked with at Bouqueval on the night of his horrible vision. After his arrest in the tavern of the Champs Elysees, recovering from his transient delirium, the Schoolmaster had awoke in a cell of the Conciergerie, where the insane are temporarily confined. Hearing every one say around him, "He is a furious madman," he resolved to continue to play his part, and pretended dumbness in order not to compromise himself by his answers, in case they should suspect his feigned insanity. This stratagem succeeded. Conducted to Bicetre, he pretended to have other attacks of madness, always taking care to choose the night for these manifestations, in order to escape the penetrating observation of the chief physician; the attending surgeon, awakened in haste, never arriving until the crisis was over, or nearly at an end. The very small number of the accomplices of the Schoolmaster, who knew his real name and his escape from the galleys at Rohefort, were ignorant of what had become of him, and, besides, had no interest in denouncing him; thus his ident.i.ty could not be proved. He hoped to remain always at Bicetre, by continuing his part of a madman and mute. Yes, always. Such was then the sole desire of this man, thanks to the inability to do harm which paralyzed his savage instincts. Thanks to the state of profound seclusion in which he had lived in the cellar of Bras-Rouge, remorse had taken almost entire possession of his iron heart. By dint of concentrating his mind upon one unceasing meditation (the recollection of his past crimes), deprived of all communication with the exterior world, his ideas often a.s.sumed a sort of reality, as he had told La Chouette; then pa.s.sed before him sometimes the features of his victims; but this was not madness--it was the power of memory carried to its greatest extent. Thus this man, still in the prime of life, of a vigorous const.i.tution--this man, who, without doubt, would live many long years--this man, who enjoyed all the plenitude of his reason, was to pa.s.s these long years among madmen, without ever exchanging a word with a human being. Otherwise, if he were discovered, he would be led to the scaffold for his new murders, or he would be condemned to a perpetual imprisonment among scoundrels, for whom he felt a horror which was augmented by his repentance. The Schoolmaster was seated on a bench; a forest of grayish hair covered his hideous and enormous head; with his elbows on his knees, he supported his chin on his hand. Although this frightful man was deprived of sight, two holes replaced his nose, and his mouth was deformed, yet a withering, incurable despair was still manifest on his horrid visage. A lunatic of a sad, benevolent, and juvenile appearance kneeled before the Schoolmaster, held his large hands in his own, looked at him with kindness, and, with a sweet voice, constantly repeated, "Strawberries! strawberries! strawberries!"
"See now," said the learned madman, gravely, "the sole conversation which this idiot can hold with the blind man. Yes, with him, the eyes of the body closed, those of the mind are without doubt opened, and he will be pleased if I enter into communication with him."
"I do not doubt it," said the doctor; while the poor lunatic with the melancholy face regarded the abominable face of the Schoolmaster with compa.s.sion, and repeated, in his soft voice, "Strawberries! strawberries!
strawberries!"
"Since his entrance here, this poor idiot has uttered no other words than these," said the doctor to Madame George, who looked at the Schoolmaster with horror; "what mysterious events are connected with these words, I cannot penetrate."
"Mother," said Germain to Madame George, "how much this poor blind man seems depressed!"
"It is true, my child," answered Madame George: "in spite of myself my heart is oppressed! the sight of him sickens me. Oh! how sad it is to see humanity under this dreadful aspect."
Hardly had Madame George p.r.o.nounced these words, than the Schoolmaster started; his scarred face became pale under its cicatrices; he arose, and turned his head so quickly toward the mother of Germain, that she could not refrain from a cry of horror, although she did not know who he was. The Schoolmaster had recognized the voice of his wife, and the words of Madame George told him that she had spoken to his son!
"What is the matter, mother?" cried Germain.
"Nothing, son; but the movement of this man, the expression of his face--all this has frightened me. Pardon my weakness," added she, addressing the doctor, "I almost regret having yielded to my curiosity in accompanying my son."
"Oh! for once, mother--there is nothing to regret."
"Very sure am I that our good mother will never return here, nor we either, my little Germain," said Rigolette: "it is too affecting."
"You are a little coward!" said Germain, smiling: "is not my wife a little coward, doctor?"
"I confess," answered the doctor, "that the sight of this unhappy blind and dumb man has made a strong impression upon me--who have seen so much distress."
"What a sight, old darling!" whispered Anastasia.
"Well! in comparison with you, all men appear to me as ugly as this frightful madman. It is on this account that no one can boast of--you comprehend, my Alfred?"
"Anastasia, I shall dream of that face, it is certain--I shall have the nightmare."
"My friend," said the doctor to the Schoolmaster, "how do you find yourself?" The Schoolmaster remained mute.
"Do you not hear me, then?" continued the doctor, striking him lightly on the shoulder.
The Schoolmaster made no reply, but bowed his head. At the end of some moments, from his sightless eyes there fell a tear.
"He weeps," said the doctor.
"Poor man!" added Germain, with compa.s.sion.
The Schoolmaster shuddered; he heard anew the voice of his son, who evinced for him a sentimental compa.s.sion.
"What is the matter? What afflicts you?" demanded the doctor. The Schoolmaster buried his face in his hands.
"We shall obtain nothing," said the doctor.
"Let me try: I am going to console him," replied the learned madman. "I am going to demonstrate that all kinds of orthogonal surfaces in which the three systems are isothermal, are 1st, those of the superficies of the second order; 2nd, those of the ellipsoides of revolution around the small axis and the grand axis; 3rd, those--but no," said the madman, reflecting, "I will commence with him on the planetary system." Then, addressing the young lunatic, who was still kneeling before the Schoolmaster, "Take yourself off from there with your strawberries."
"My boy," said the doctor to the young madman, "each one must have his turn with the old man. Let your comrade take your place."
The young boy obeyed at once, arose, looked at the doctor timidly with his large blue eyes, showed his deference by a salute, made a parting sign to the Schoolmaster, and departed, repeating, in a plaintive voice, "Strawberries! strawberries!"
The doctor, perceiving the painful effect this scene had produced upon Madame George, said to her, "Happily, madame, we are going to find Morel, and, if my hopes are realized, your heart will expand with joy on seeing this excellent man restored to the tenderness of his wife and daughter."
And the physician withdrew, followed by the friends of the artisan Morel.
The Schoolmaster remained alone with the learned madman, who commenced to explain to him, very learnedly and very eloquently, the imposing movement of the stars, which describe their immense revolutions silently in the heavens of which the normal state is night. But the Schoolmaster did not listen. He thought, with profound despair, that he should never hear again the voices of his son and wife. Confident of the just horror with which he had inspired them, of the misfortune, the shame, the affright into which he would have plunged them by the revelation of his name, he would have endured rather a thousand deaths than have disclosed himself to them. One single last consolation remained to him: for a moment he had inspired his son with pity. And in spite of himself, he recalled to mind the works which Rudolph had spoken to him before he had inflicted this terrible chastis.e.m.e.nt.
"Each of your words is an oath; each of your words shall be a prayer. You are audacious and cruel because you are strong; you shall be meek and humble because you shall be weak. Your heart is closed to repentance; some day you will weep for your victims. From a man you have made yourself a savage beast; some day your understanding shall be restored by repentance.
You have not even spared what the wild beasts spare, the female and her young. After a long life consecrated to the expiation of your crimes, your last prayer shall be to supplicate G.o.d to grant you the unhoped-for happiness of dying before your wife and your son."
"We are going to pa.s.s into the court of the idiots, and then we shall reach the building where we shall find Morel," said the doctor, on leaving the court where the Schoolmaster was.
CHAPTER XXVI.
MOREL, THE DIAMOND-CUTTER.
Notwithstanding the sadness with which the sight of the lunatics had inspired her, Madame George could not but stop for a moment before a railed court, where the incurable idiots were confined. Poor beings! who often have not even the instinct of the beast, and whose origin is almost always unknown--unknown to all as well as to themselves. Thus they pa.s.s through life, absolute strangers to the affections, to thoughts, experiencing only the most limited animal wants. If madness does not reveal itself at once to a superficial observer by a single inspection of the physiognomy of the lunatic, it is but too easy to recognize the physical character of idiotism. Dr. Herbin had no occasion to direct the attention of Madame George, to the expression of savage brutishness, stupid insensibility, or imbecile amazement, which gave to the features of the unfortunate wretches an expression at once hideous and painful to behold. Almost all were clothed in long dirty frocks, ragged and torn; for, in spite of all possible care, these beings, absolutely deprived of instinct and reason, cannot be prevented from tearing and soiling their vestments, crawling and rolling like beasts in the mire of the courts, where they remain during the day. Some of them, crouched in the most obscure corners of a shed which sheltered them, gathered in a heap, like animals in their dens, uttered a kind of hollow and continual rattling noise. Others, leaning against the wall immovable, looked fixedly at the sun. An old man, of monstrous obesity, seated on a wooden chair, devoured his pittance with animal voracity, casting on either side oblique angry glances. Some walked rapidly, describing a circle, limiting themselves to a very small s.p.a.ce.
This strange exercise would last for entire hours. Seated on the ground, others swayed their bodies continually backward and forward, only interrupting this movement of vertiginous monotony by shouts of laughter--the guttural, harsh laugh of idiocy. Others, in fine, were almost in a state of annihilation, only opening their eyes at the moment of repast, remaining inert, inactive, deaf, dumb, blind--not a cry, not a gesture announcing their vitality. The complete absence of verbal or intellectual communication is one of the most gloomy characteristics of a company of idiots, Lunatics, notwithstanding the incoherency of their words and thoughts, at least speak, know each other, and seek each other; but among idiots there reigns a stupid indifference, an isolated savageness.
Never do they p.r.o.nounce an articulate word. Sometimes is heard among them savage laughter, or groans and cries which resemble nothing human. Scarcely can a few among them recognize their keepers; and yet, let us repeat it with admiration, with reverence to the Creator, these unfortunate creatures, who seem no longer to belong to our species, and not even to the animal species, by the complete annihilation of their intellectual faculties; these incurable beings, who partake more of the mollusca than animated life, and who often thus pa.s.s through all the stages of a long existence, are surrounded by tender cares, of which we have no idea.
Doubtless it is well to respect the principle of human dignity, even in these unhappy beings who have only the exterior of men; but let us always repeat, one should also think of the dignity of those who, endowed with all their faculties, filled with zeal and activity, and the living strength of the nation; to give them consciousness of this dignity by encouraging them, and reward them when it is manifested by the love of industry, by resignation, by probity; not to say, in fine, with semi-orthodox selfishness, "Let us punish here below, G.o.d will recompense above."
"Poor people!" said Madame George, following the doctor, after having cast a last look into the court of the idiots; "how sad it is to think there is no remedy for their woes!"
"Alas! none, madame!" answered the doctor; "above all, when they have reached this age; for, now, thanks to the progress of the science, idiot children receive a kind of education which develops, at least, the atom of imperfect intelligence with which they are sometimes endowed. We have a school here, directed with as much perseverance as enlightened patience, which already offers the most satisfactory results; by a very ingenious method, the mental and physical capacities are exercised at the same time; and many have been taught the alphabet, figures, and to distinguish colors; they have also succeeded in teaching them to sing in chorus; and I a.s.sure you, madame, that there is a kind of strange charm, at once sad and touching, in hearing these plaintive, wondering voices raised toward heaven in a chant, of which almost all the words, although in French, are to them unknown. But here we are at the building where we shall find Morel. I have recommended that he should be left alone this morning, that the effect which I hope to produce upon him may have greater power."
"And what is his madness, sir?" whispered Madame George to the doctor, so as not to be heard by Louise.
"He imagines that if he does not earn thirteen hundred francs in his day"s work, to pay a debt contracted with a notary named Jacques Ferrand, Louise will die on the scaffold for the crime of infanticide."
"Oh! sir, that notary was a monster!" cried Madame George, informed of the hatred of this man against Germain. "Louise Morel and her father are not his only victims; he has persecuted my son with undying animosity."
"Louise Morel has told me all, madame," answered the doctor. "G.o.d"s mercy!
this wretch has ceased to live! but be pleased to wait for a moment, with these good people; I am going to see how poor Morel is." Then, addressing the daughter of the lapidary, "I beg you, Louise, pay great attention! the moment I cry, _Come!_ appear at once, but alone; when I say a second time, _Come!_ the others will also enter."
"Oh! sir, my courage fails me," said Louise, drying her tears. "Poor father! if this trial should be useless!"
"I hope it will save him; for a long time I have been preparing for it.
Come, compose yourself, and remember my instructions."
And the doctor, leaving the persons who accompanied him, entered into a room of which the grated windows opened on a garden.