THE DOUBLE LIFE
The
Double Life
BY
GASTON LEROUX
Author of "The Mystery of the Yellow Room"
JOHN E. KEARNEY
FORTY-THREE WEST TWENTY-SEVENTH STREET
NEW YORK
Copyright, 1909, by
JOHN E. KEARNEY
HISTORICAL PREFACE
I WAS passing through the waiting-room of the
Morning Journal on a certain evening last
year when my attention was drawn to a man seated
in a corner. He was dressed in black and his ap-
pearance was that of the deepest dejection. In
fact upon his face I read the most melancholy de-
spair.
He was not weeping, his eyes were dry and al-
most expressionless and received the impression of
exterior objects like motionless ice. He had placed
upon his knees a small oaken chest, ornamented
with ironwork. His hands were crossed over this
object and hung down, accentuating his dejected
appearance.
An attendant told me that he had been awaiting
my arrival there three long hours without a move-
ment, without so much as a sigh. I went towards
him, and announcing myself, I invited him to enter
my office. I showed him a seat, but instead of tak-
ing it he came straight to my writing-desk and
5
6 HISTORICAL PREFACE
placed the little oaken chest on it. "Sir, this chest
belongs to you," said he, and his voice seemed far
away and indistinct. "My friend, M. Theophraste
Longuet, commissioned me to bring it to you.
Take it, sir, and believe me, your servant." As he
spoke the man bowed and made a motion toward
the door. I stopped him, however, and said:
"Why, do not go, I cannot receive this box with-
out a knowledge of its contents." He replied:
"Sir, I do not know what it contains, it is locked
and its key is lost. You might have to break it
open to find out the contents." I replied: "Then
at least I would like to know to whom I am in-
debted for bringing it to me."
"My friend, M. Theophraste Longuet, called me
Adolphe," replied the man, in a voice so melan-
choly that it seemed to grow more faint and indis-
tinct with each syllable.
"Well, if M. Longuet had brought me the
chest himself, he would most certainly have told
me what it contains; I expect that M. Longuet,
himself . . ."
"I also, sir," said the man, "but M. Theo-
phraste Longuet is dead, and I am his sole execu-
tor."
By this time he had edged his way to the door,
and having said these words, he opened the door
HISTORICAL PREFACE 7
and departed. I was taken back by this sudden
move and stood staring at the door, then at the
chest. Collecting myself I hastily followed the
man, but could find no trace of him ... he
had disappeared.
Opening the chest I found it contained a bundle
of papers, which at first I regarded with indiffer-
ence, but which I presently began to examine with
greater interest. The deeper I penetrated the
more mysterious they appeared to be and the more
unexpected were the adventures revealed. In fact,
so strange did they seem that I at first could not
believe my intelligence, and if the proof had not
been in front of me I never would have been con-
vinced of their reality.
It was some time before I could bring myself to
realize my position regarding these papers. M.
Theophraste Longuet had made me heir to this
chest and to the mysteries lying therein. In fact,
the secrets of his life.
These papers were written in the form of
memoirs and were voluminous. They related with
the minutest detail, all the incidents of an excep-
tionally dramatic existence. M. Theophraste Lon-
guet had by the discovery of a document two cen-
turies old acquired the proof that Louis Dom-
inique Cartouche, the most cunning criminal in the
8 HISTORICAL PREFACE
annals of French crime, and he, Theophraste, were
one and the same person. This was indeed a most
startling discovery and valuable, for it also put
me on the track of the treasures of the famous
Cartouche.
He had frequently confided in me facts about his
peculiar life, but an untimely death, certain ter-
rible events related in these documents, had pre-
vented him from telling me all. We had been great
friends. I had written for a journal he had called
his "favorite organ." He had chosen me as his
companion and confidant from among many other
journalists, not because of any superiority of in-
tellect, but rather, as he used to say, "because a
reliable level-headed friend is worth twenty ac-
quaintances, and he found me reliable." There was
much significance in this word, "level-headed," as
you will learn as you read this narrative.
Having thoroughly examined the papers, I im-
mediately took them to my manager, who was a
keen business man. He did not hesitate for a mo-
ment to find the "Treasures of Cartouche" a val-
uable piece for his paper, and it is now a matter of
common knowledge how curiously the sum of
twenty-five thousand francs, divided into seven
sums, were hidden in and around Paris, and how
the author of these lines in the history of the chest
HISTORICAL PREFACE 9
which appeared in print in the month of October,
in the year 1903,* touched lightly upon the story
found therein.
I have believed it my duty toward the public,
and also to the memory of Theophraste Longuet,
to publish in volume the authentic history of the
reincarnation of Cartouche, written exclusively
from the documents found in the little oaken chest,
a plain narrative, unembellished by all that which
I, poor journalist, had added for the chance reader
of my journal.
The reader will find more than a mere treasure.
The documents are of the greatest literary value,
inasmuch as they contain proof of things hitherto
only dreamt of. It is certain that many people
imagining themselves of superior intellect will
doubt and possibly scoff at many of these mys-
teries.
The oaken chest contained the secret of the
tomb ; it also contained the history of the Talpa
people written by no less an authority than M.
Milfroid, Commissioner of Police, who remained
for three weeks with M. Theophraste Longuet in
*This date is very important, for it established the fact
that my authentic history of Cartouche had appeared before
Mr. Prank Brentano's book, and that one two books the day
after that of Mr. Maurice Bernard.
10 HISTORICAL PREFACE
the subterranean home of those monsters. This
last infernal comedy would most certainly have
met with incredulity had not it been vented by one
of the most honest and intellectual of Police Com-
missioners. M. Milf roid was a most noble and ac-
complished character, and he could place music,
painting, sculptors among his accomplishments.
Now before closing this preface I must warn my
readers that they will find many strange things in
the narrative, weird and almost supernatural. And
I would say that unless he is possessed with great
level-headedness, he must not read the secrets of
the Life of Theophraste Longuet.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
HISTORICAL PREFACE 5
I M. THEOPHRASTE LONGUET WISHES TO
INFORM HIMSELF, AND VISITS HISTORI-
CAL MONUMENTS 15
II AN EXPLANATION FROM THEOPHRASTE 26
III A SEARCH AND A DISCOVERY 34
IV SOME PHILOSOPHY AND A SONG 48
V THEOPHRASTE REMEMBERS HIMSELF 57
VI M. LECAMUS EXPRESSES HIMSELF 64
VII THEOPHRASTE AND His BLACK PLUME 68
VIII AN APPEAL FOR HELP 76
IX THE PORTRAIT 84
X CARTOUCHE'S PAST 94
XI SIGNOR APPEARS 99
XII THEOPHRASTE'S MEMORY is REFRESHED. . 112
XIII THE CAT 125
XIV PETITO LOSES His EARS 131
XV ADOLPHE CONSULTED 140
XVI ON PRIVATE GROUND 146
XVII THEY DECIDE TO KILL 161
XVIII THE OPERATION 166
XIX THE TORTURE CHAMBER 177
XX IN THE CHARNEL HOUSE 188
XXI RESULTS OF THE OPERATION 197
XXII VISITS TO A BUTCHER'S SHOP 201
XXIII A NEWSPAPER REPORT 207
XXIV THE MURDER IN THE RUE GUENEGAUD. .. 215
ii
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
XXV THE CALF'S REVENGE 221
XXVI THEOPHRASTE AGAIN HEARS OF His
TREASURES 228
XXVII THE EXPRESS TRAIN'S DISAPPEARANCE 234
XXVIII NOT TO BE EXPLAINED 240
XXIX M. MIFROID RECOGNIZES CARTOUCHE.. 244
XXX M. MIFROID'S THEORY 247
XXXI LOST IN THE CATACOMBS 253
XXXII A DISSERTATION ON FISH 264
XXXIII THE MEETING OF THE TALFA 269
XXXIV M. MIFROID PERFORMS ON THE STAGE. . 276
XXXV ANEWTRADE 280
XXXVI A ROBBER Is CAUGHT 284
XXXVII THE ESCAPE FROM THE CATACOMBS 287
XXXVIII AN OLD FRIEND 293
XXXIX THE FINAL TRAGEDY 296
THE DOUBLE LIFE
THE DOUBLE LIFE
CHAPTER I
M. Theophraste Longuet Wishes to Inform Him-
self and Visits Historical Monuments
fTHHE strange adventures of M. Theophraste
* Longuet, which ended so tragically, orig-
inated in a visit to the prison of the Conciergerie,
on the 28th of June, 1899. Therefore this his-
tory is modern; but the writer would say that,
having read and examined all the papers and
writings of M. Theophraste Longuet, its recent-
ness does not detract from its sensational charac-
ter.
When M. Longuet rang the bell of the Concier-
gerie he was accompanied by his wife, Marceline,
and M. Adolphe Lecamus. The latter was a close
friend. It was his physique that had attracted M.
Longuet. He was not handsome, but was tall and
15
16 THE DOUBLE LIFE
well built, and every movement showed that
strength which M. Longuet lacked. His forehead
was broad and convex, his eyebrows were heavy
and straight. He had a habit of every now and
then lifting them gracefully to express his disdain
of others and his confidence in himself. His grey
eyes twinkled under near-sighted spectacles, and
the straight nose, the proud arch of the underlip,
surmounted by a dark, flowing mustache, the
square outline of his chin and his amaranthine
complexion, all combined to accentuate his strong
appearance.
He had been employed as postmaster at Turin,
and had traveled considerably. He had crossed
the sea. This was also an attraction to M. Lon-
guet, who had never crossed anything, unless it
was the Seine.
M. Longuet had been a rubber stamp manufac-
turer, but had made sufficient money to retire at
an early age. He was the antithesis of Adolphe in
build and character. His face showed no marked
intelligence, and his slight build lent almost insig-
nificance to his appearance. He had, however,
imagination, and he used to laughingly say to
Adolphe: "Even if I haven't traveled, I run just
as much risk in walking the streets of Paris as one
who crosses the ocean in ships. Might not houses
HISTORICAL MONUMENTS 17
collapse or pots of flowers fall on one's head?"
Thus he lived a monotonous existence, relieved only
by the morbid workings of his mind.
Before his retirement he had worked hard and
had little time to study, therefore, now he had
leisure, it occurred to him to occupy his time in
improving 1 his mind. It was with this intention
that we find him visiting the various buildings of
historic interest around Paris.
On ringing the bell of the Conciergerie the iron
door turned heavily on its hinges. A warden shak-
ing the keys demanded of Theophraste his permit.
He had anticipated this and had received it that
morning from the Prefect of Police. He tendered
it with satisfaction, looking around at his com-
panion with the confidence of anticipations real-
ized.
The gate-keeper turned the little company over
to the Chief Warden, who was passing at the time.
Marceline was much impressed, and as she leaned
on Adolphe's arm, thought of Marie Antoinette's
dungeon, the Grevin Museum, and all the mysteries
of this famous prison. The Chief Warden said:
"Are you French?" to which Theophraste replied,
laughingly, for he was typically French : "Do we
look like English people?"
"This is the first time," explained the Chief
18 THE DOUBLE LIFE
Warden, "that any French people have asked per-
mission to visit the Conciergerie. French people
are indifferent to things of interest in their own
country." "They are wrong, sir," replied Theo-
phraste, wiping his spectacles. "In the monuments
of the past we have foundations of the future."
This idea rather pleased him, and he looked for ap-
proval to Adolphe and Marceline. He continued
following the Warden. "As for me, I am an old
Parisian and would have visited all these places of
interest long ago but for my work. I have worked
hard at my trade and the only leisure I got was
when I went to bed. That time is over now, sir,
and now is the time for me to educate myself," and
he struck the century-old pavement with the end
of his green umbrella.
Passing a small door and a large wicket, they
descended some steps and were in the guard-room.
The first thing to draw attention made Adolphe
laugh, Marceline blush, and Theophraste turn in
disgust. It was the capital of a Gothic column
carved to symbolize the story of Abelard and
Heloise. Abelard was pleading with the Carion
Fulbert for his clemency, while the latter was tak-
ing the child from Heloise.
"It is strange," said M. Longuet, "that in the
name of art the Government should tolerate such
HISTORICAL MONUMENTS 19
obscenities. That capital is a disgrace to the Con-
ciergerie and should be removed." M. Lecamus did
not agree, and said: "Many things are excusable
in art if they are done in the right spirit."
However, the subject was dropped and they
were soon interested in other parts of these old his-
toric buildings. The Chief Warden conducted
them through the Tower of Caesar, into the Silver
Tower, or Tower of Bon Bee. They thought of the
thousand of illustrious prisoners who had been in-
carcerated in prison for years. Marceline could not
keep from thinking of the martyred Marie Antoi-
nette, of Elizabeth, and the little Dauphin, and of
the waxen gendarmes in the museum, who watched
over the Royal family. All this impressed her,
and her mind was continually carried back to those
stirring times. The Silver Tower had been trans-
formed into a record office, and the modern writing
desks were in striking contrast to the old medieval
walls. Returning through the guard-room, they
directed their steps towards the Bon Bee Tower.
Theophraste had read about this tower and im-
agined he knew it well, so wishing to appear well
informed, asked of the Warden, "Is it not there,
sir, that the last meal of the Girondists was
served? You ought certainly to tell us exactly
where to find the table, and also the place which
20 THE DOUBLE LIFE
Camille des Moulins occupied." The Warden re-
plied that the Environdists had dined in the chapel
and that they would soon visit it.
"I wish to know Camille des Moulins' place,"
said Theophraste, "because he was a friend of
mine."
"And mine also," said Marceline, with a look
towards Adolphe, which seemed to say, "Not as
much as you, Adolphe."
But Adolphe laughed and said Camille was not
a Girondist, he was a Franciscan friar, a friend of
Danton, a Septembrian.
Theophraste was vexed, and Marceline pro-
tested that if he had been anything of the sort Lu-
cille would not have married him. Adolphe did not
insist, but as they had by now reached the chamber
of torture, he feigned condescendingly to be in-
terested in the labels which adorned the drawers
decorating the walls, "Hops," "Cinnamon,"
"Spice," etc.
"Here is the room in question. They have trans-
formed it into the doctor's store-room."
"It is just as well, perhaps," said Theophraste,
"but not so impressive."
Adolphe and Marceline were of the same opin-
ion. They were not at all impressed. Here was
HISTORICAL MONUMENTS 21
the famous torture chamber. They expected some-
thing else. They were disillusioned. Outside, when
viewed from the court of the Sundial, the formida-
ble aspect of those old feudal towers, the last ves-
tige of the palace of the French monarchy, momen-
tarily brought fear and awe to their minds. That
prison had stood a thousand years, had known so
many tragedies, death rattles, legendary miseries,
hidden secrets. It seemed that one only had to
step inside to find an inquisition court in some dark
corner, damp and funereal. Here seemed to be all
the tragedies of the history of Paris, as immortal
as the very walls.
What a disillusion here in these towers with a
little plaster and paint they had made the office of
the Director of Records, the store-room of the
prison doctor. One could carouse here where once
the hangman held sway. One could laugh where
only the cries of the tortured were heard.
Now there would have been nothing unusual
about this visit to the Conciergerie but for a very
extraordinary incident which occurred after the
party had left the torture chamber. The incident
was weird and inexplicable, and while I read M.
Longuet's own description of it, I confess I found
it impossible to believe. Therefore I went to the
22 THE DOUBLE LIFE
Chief Warden, who had shown the party round the
prison, and asked for his account of the incident.
He gave it to me in the following words :
Sir, the affair passed as usual, and the lady, the
two gentlemen and I visited the kitchen of St.
Louis, which is now used as a store-house for plas-
ter. We proceeded towards the dungeon of Marie
Antoinette, which is now the chapel. On the way
I showed them the crucifix, before which she
prayed before mounting the cart which is now in
the Director's room. I told the man with the green
umbrella that we had been obliged to transfer the
Queen's arm-chair to the Director's room, because
the English visitors had carried away pieces from
it as souvenirs. We had by this time arrived at
the end of the Street of Paris you know the street
that leads from Paris to the Conciergerie. We
passed through that frightfully dark passage,
where we found the grating behind which they cut
off the hair of the women before execution. You
know that it is the very same grating. It is a
passage where never a ray of sunlight penetrates.
Marie Antoinette walked through that passage on
the day of her death. It is there that the old Con-
ciergerie stands just as it was hundreds of years
ago.
HISTORICAL MONUMENTS 23
I was describing the Street of Paris, when sud-
denly the man with the green umbrella cried out in
a voice so unlike the previous voice, so strangely
that the other gentleman and lady looked startled :
"Zounds, it is the walk of the Straw Dealers."
He said it in a weird tone and his whole attitude
was changed. He used the expression, zounds,
twice. I told him he was mistaken, that the walk
of the Straw Dealers is what we call to-day the
Street of Paris. He answered me in the same
strange voice: "Zounds, you cannot tell me that!
I have lain there on that straw like the others !" I
remarked to him, smilingly, although not without
a feeling of fear, that no one had lain on that
straw in the alley of the Straw Dealers for more
than two hundred years.
He was just about to answer me when his wife
intervened. "What are you saying, Theophraste ?"
said she. "Do you wish to teach Monsieur his
business ? You have never been to the Conciergerie
before." Then he said in his natural voice, the
voice by which I had known him at first : "That is
so, I have never been here before."
I could not understand then at all, but thought
the incident closed, when he did something stranger
still.
We visited the Queen's Dungeon, Robespierre's
24. THE DOUBLE LIFE
Dungeon, the Chapel of the Girondists, and that
little gate, which is still the same as when the un-
fortunate prisoners, called the Septembrians, leaped
over it to be massacred in the court. We were
now in the Street of Paris. There was a little
stairway on the left which we did not descend. It
led to the cellars which I did not deem necessary to
show, as it was dark and difficult of access. The
gate at the bottom of this staircase is closed by a
grating which is perhaps a thousand years old
possibly more. The gentleman, whom they called
Adolphe, proceeded with the lady toward the door
leading out of the guard-room, but without saying
a word the man with the green umbrella descended
the little staircase. When he was at the grating
he cried out in that strange, weird voice: "Well,
where are you going? It is here." The gentleman
and the lady stopped as if petrified. The voice
was terrible, and nothing in the outward appear-
ance of the man would make you believe that the
voice came from him. In spite of my fear I ran
to the head of the stairs. J was thunderstruck.
He ordered me to open the grating, and I don't
know how I obeyed him. It was as if I had been
hypnotized. I obeyed mechanically. Then when
the grating was opened he disappeared in the
darkness of the cellar. Where had he gone? How
HISTORICAL MONUMENTS 25
could he find nis way? Those subterranean pas-
sages of the Conciergerie are plunged in frightful
darkness and nobody has been down there for cen-
turies and centuries.
He had already gone too far for me to stop him.
He had hypnotized me. I stayed about a quarter
of an hour at the entrance of that dark hole. His
companions were in the same state as I was. It
was impossible to follow him. Then suddenly we
heard his voice, not his first voice, but his second.
I was so startled I had to cling to the grating for
support. He cried out : "It is thou, Simon
I'Anvergust." I could not answer. He passed
near me, and as he passed it seemed to me that he
put a scrap of paper in his jacket pocket. He
leaped up the steps with one bound and rejoined
the lady and gentleman. He gave them no expla-
nation. As for me, I ran to open the door of the
prison for them. I wanted to get them outside.
When the wicket was open and the man with the
green umbrella was walking out, without apparent
reason he said: "We must avoid the wheel." I
don't know what he meant, as there was no car-
riage near.
CHAPTER II
'An Explanation from Theophraste
"VTOW in reading the last chapter one would
^ immediately think that M. Longuet had
gone mad. What had possessed him? Where did
he go ? In order that you might fully understand
his peculiar actions I will give you the extract
from his memoirs relating to this incident. He
writes :
I am a man of sound body and mind. I am a
good citizen and recognize all the laws. I believe
laws are necessary for the proper regulation of
society. I dislike heartily any formalities, and in
determining my lines of conduct I have always
chosen the simplest way.
I dislike imaginative people, and the occult has
always been repulsive to me. However, this is not
through want of understanding, for my friend,
Adolphe Lecamus, had given himself up to the
26
AN EXPLANATION 27
study of spiritualism. Whoever teaches spiritual-
ism teaches foolishness, and the desire to question
the spirits of the dead by means of the planchette
seems to me to be beyond belief, it is grotesque.
However, I have assisted at some of Adolphe's
seances which he had given for the benefit of Mar-
celine and myself. I have even taken a certain
part in them, desiring to prove the absurdity of
his theories. My wife and I once rested our hands
on a table for a quarter of an hour waiting for it
to move. Nothing happened, and we laughed
heartily at him. However, my wife was more sym-
pathetic, and was inclined to be a little more se-
rious. Women are always more susceptible to the
occult and ready to believe in the mysterious.
Adolphe bought her books, which she read
eagerly, and he amused himself sometimes by will-
ing her to sleep, by making passes with his hands
and breathing on her eyes. It seemed foolish, and
I should not have allowed it from any one else, but
I have always had a liking for Adolphe, and know
that it amuses him. Marceline and he said that I
was a skeptic. However, I am not a skeptic, as a
skeptic is one who doubts all. I believe in progress,
but do not believe that one person having an un-
natural influence over another tends towards
28 THE DOUBLE LIFE
progress. Therefore I am not a skeptic, but
rather a philosopher.
During his travels Adolphe read a great deal. I
have had to work hard all my life, therefore, while
he is an idealist, I am a materialist.
It seems necessary for me to thus describe my
character so that it may be well understood that
the happenings of the day before yesterday were
not due to any occult reasons. I visited the prison
in just the same manner as I would go to a store
to buy a cravat. I wanted to learn, that is all.
Having sold my business, I have more leisure, and
so I said to myself: "I will visit the interesting
places of the city of Paris." Fate decreed that the
Conciergerie was the first place to be visited. I
do not know whether I really regret it.
At present I am calm and collected and can re-
late all I remember of what happened.
While we were in the Towers nothing happened
worth recording. I remember trying to picture
to myself in the little room which looked like a
grocery store all the horrors of the place, how the
executioners and their assistants approached the
prisoners with their monstrous machines, how so
many illustrious persons were martyred, and all
the terrible griefs and agonies which had been wit-
nessed within these walls. But the transformation
AN EXPLANATION 29
had taken all the romance away, and the labels,
"Senna," "Hops," etc., did not inspire imagination.
Even the Bon Bee Tower, also called Bavarde, on
account of the terrible cries which were heard in
it, has been changed into offices. However, I must
not complain. These are all the signs of progress
and a more enlightened age.
But we penetrated into that part of the Con-
ciergerie which has changed little during all these
centuries, which had not been spoiled by the plas-
terer and in which all the stones could tell their
own history ; then it was that a most inexplicable
fever took possession of me, and when we had
reached the dark end of the walk of the "Straw
Dealers," I cried out from my soul, "Zounds ! this
is the walk of the Straw Dealers."
I turned around immediately to find out who
had uttered these words. They were all staring at
me, and I was convinced that it was myself who
had cried out. It seemed so strange. The voice
was not like mine, but it had emanated from me.
Even now it is unaccountable.
The Warden pretended that we had passed the
walk of the "Straw Dealers." I told him that I
knew the place better than he, for I had lain there
on the straw myself. But I had never been in the
Conciergerie before, and yet I was sure of it. It
30 THE DOUBLE LIFE
is difficult to explain. While we walked through
the chapel of the Girondists, and the Warden was
explaining the story to us, I played with my um-
brella. I tried to appear natural and collected.
Although the things which happened were quite
natural, and not the result of any effort, a cold
perspiration seized me and I shook like a leaf. I
remember that I found myself at the bottom of the
stairs, standing before a grating. I was en-
dowed with almost superhuman strength. Shak-
ing the grating, I called out for the others to fol-
low. However, the others had gone ahead and did
not hear. I called to the Warden to open the
grating. I don't know what would have happened
if he had not done so, quickly. I was crazy, and
yet everything was natural to me. Truly, I was
in a state of great nervous excitement, but every-
thing was lucid to me. Never before had I seen so
clearly as when in that dark cellar. Never before
had I recognized a place so vividly as when I was
down there where I had never been before. My
God ! I did not know them, and yet I recognized
them.
Without hesitating I groped around, feeling the
stones in the dark, and my feet trod a soil which
seemed familiar but which had not been trodden for
centuries. I seemed to know these very stones, for-
AN EXPLANATION 31
gotten in the darkness of those cellars. I slid
the length of the damp flagstones as if I had been
accustomed to the way. My finger-nails came in
contact with sharp stones in the wall and I counted
the seams as I passed. I knew that if I turned
round I would see a certain square light in the dis-
tant gallery, a single ray in all this place where
the sun had forgotten to shine since France's his-
tory had begun. I turned and saw it, and I felt
my heart beat violently.
Here there was a momentary interruption in
the writings. M. Longuet, having explained what
had happened to him in that strange hour in the
Conciergerie, was greatly agitated. It was with
difficulty he remained master of his thoughts. It
was difficult to follow them ; they seemed to come
and go, just leaving faint traces on the paper of
the record.
He resumed the pen with feverish hand. Con-
tinuing to busy himself with the subterranean pas-
sages, he writes:
It is necessary to pause here as one pauses at
the edge of a precipice. My very thoughts make
me shiver !
And the Bavarde, there it stands. There are the
32 THE DOUBLE LIFE
walls which have helped to make history. It is not
on high in the glorious sunlight that the Bavarde
tells its history. It is here in the blackness of the
earth. There are some large iron staples in the
wall here. The very chains of Ravaillac ! I recall
no more; but towards that ray, the sole ray of
light, as eternal and immovable as the very walls
towards that small square beam, which since the be-
ginning of things has taken and kept the shape of
a sentinel, I advanced. There was some impelling
force which urged me on. I rushed ahead while the
fever was in me and seemed to intoxicate me. Sud-
denly I paused, my feet seemed held to the ground
and my fingers ran sliding and pressing the length
of the wall. What it was that impelled my finger,
what was the thought, I cannot tell. All at once I
let my umbrella fall, and drawing my pen-knife,
began to scrape steadily between two stones. The
dust and cement powdered away easily, and soon
my knife struck something between the stones, and
I pulled the thing out.
This is why I am sure I was not mad. This
thing has been before my eyes. In my most peace-
ful hours I, Theophraste Longuet, see it in my
writing-desk. It is not I who am mad, but this
thing itself! It is a piece of torn paper, stained
. . . a document of which it is easy to tell
AN EXPLANATION 33
the age and calculated to plunge any man into the
deepest consternation.
The paper is, as you must know, terribly de-
cayed. The dampness has eaten into half the
words, which seem, on account of their reddish
tint, to have been written with blood.
I took the document to the small ray of light,
and on looking it over my hair seemed to stand on
end with horror. There I could recognize my own
handwriting, and I give you this precious and
mysterious document clearly translated:
"Dead and buried all his treasures after the
Treachery of April 1st. Go, take a look in the bar-
room ! Look at the furnace ! Look at the weather-
cock ! Dig a while and you shall be rich !"
CHAPTER III
r A Search and a Discovery
MADOLPHE LECAMUS and Marceline
thought M. Theophraste's actions strange,
but they were too much occupied with an affair of
their own to attach very great importance to
them. However, M. Theophraste concealed his
anxiety and pretended that the visit to the Con-
ciergerie was quite a natural occurrence. He had
gone down in the cellars just to satisfy a natural
curiosity, not being one of those who make a su-
perficial inspection of things of interest.
The following day, M. Theophraste, under the
pretext of putting his affairs in order, shut him-
self up in his office and gave instructions for no-
body to disturb him. Leaning over the balcony
he looked out upon the little square of Anvers and
reflected over the happenings of yesterday. There
was nothing in the view to distract him. He was
accustomed to the scene below: nurses pushing
84
A SEARCH AND A DISCOVERY 35
perambulators gossiping over the latest news, and
a few professors walking towards the Rollie Col-
lege. The Avenue Touraine rang with the shouts
of college students who had come before the lecture
hour.
Nothing had changed; the world was just the
same. To-day, like yesterday, or like the day be-
fore yesterday. The people were going to their
business just the same. Even Nidine Petito, the
wife of the Italian professor, who lived in the
apartment below, was the same. She began to
play the "Carnival of Venice" on the piano just
as she did every day.
Nothing had changed; thus he reflected. On
turning round he could see amongst his papers on
the desk, the document. Did it really exist? He
had passed a restless night and was now attribut-
ing his strange adventure to a bad dream but no,
it could not be that, for there was the paper on
his desk, in his own handwriting, and written in
blood. Good God! perhaps it was his own blood.
What thoughts, what thoughts !
Theophraste passed his hand over his forehead.
He was perspiring and restless. Suddenly breath-
ing a sigh and slapping his thigh with his hand, he
appeared to have come to a definite resolution, and
put the paper carefully away in his portfolio.
36 THE DOUBLE LIFE
He remembered that Signer Petito, the Italian
professor, was an expert in handwriting and that
he had had experience in engraving. He would
take the document to him and ask his opinion.
His friend Adolphe was also interested in graphol-
ogy, but only in a spiritual way, and so he would
not confide in him. There was already too much
mystery in the affair without mixing it up with
spiritualism and mediums.
He had only known the professor to bow to on
the stairs, and so in presenting himself he was in-
troduced. The professor greeted him cordially,
and after the usual formalities, Theophraste
broached the subject of his visit. He produced the
paper, and a letter which he had written some time
previously. "Signer Petito," he commenced, "hav-
ing heard of your renown as an expert in hand-
writing, I would be grateful to you if you would
examine this letter, and this document, and give me
the result of your observations. I may say that
there is no connection between the two papers."
Theophraste was not in the habit of lying, and
blushed redder than a peony. But Signer Petito
was already deeply engrossed in the examining of
the two papers. His scholarly eye looked over one,
then the other. He placed them together, held
them up to the light, passed his hand over the writ-
A SEARCH AND A DISCOVERY 37
ing, and measured them. Then he laughed, show-
ing his white teeth.
"Monsieur Longuet," said he, "it is not neces-
sary for me to keep you waiting long for a reply.
This document is in a very bad condition, but the
specimen of handwriting can still be read. They
are in every way similar to the letter, and I would
swear before any tribunal that those two hand-
writings have been traced by the same hand."
Then he entered into details. "A child," he said,
"could not be mistaken about it." He pointed out
how this duplicate writing was identically angular.
"We call a handwriting angular, Monsieur, when
the hair-strokes which join the bottom of the let-
ters and the separate letters are at an acute angle
to the down-strokes of the letters. Do you under-
stand? Compare this hook and that one, those
hair-strokes with these others, and all those letters
getting larger, larger in both writing and in equal
measure. But what a clear writing, Monsieur; I
have never seen such clear writing before. As
clear as if cut with a knife."
By this time Theophraste had become white
with nervousness. Signor Petito thought that he
was going to faint. However, he arose, picked
up the document and the letter, and having
thanked Signor Petito, he went out.
38 THE DOUBLE LIFE
He wandered the streets for a long time, and at
last turning down a small street, he stood in front
of an old door in the Rue Inger. Entering, he
found himself in a narrow, dark passage. A man
came out of a back room, and on recognizing
Theophraste, greeted him in a friendly way. He
was wearing a square paper cap, and had on a
black gown which reached down to his feet.
"Good-day, Theophraste, good-day. What
happy chance has brought you here?"
As it had been two years since they had last seen
each other they at first spoke of family matters
and other generalities. Ambrose spoke of his
trade of engraving visiting cards. He had been
a printer. He had been a printer in the province,
but having put all he had into an invention for a
new paper, he had failed. He was a distant cousin
to Marceline, and when he was deep in financial
troubles, Theophraste had come to his rescue.
Theophraste seated himself on the wicker chair
in the small room which served as a workshop.
This room was lighted by a large window reaching
from floor to ceiling.
"Ambrose, you are an expert. No one can ap-
proach you in the knowledge of papers, eh?"
"That is not quite true," said Ambrose, "but I
can judge a good paper."
A SEARCH AND A DISCOVERY 39
"You understand all kinds?"
"All kinds."
"If some one showed you a piece of paper, could
you tell the age of it?"
"Yes," said Ambrose, "I could. I have published
a treatise on the water-marks of papers used in
France in the seventeenth and eighteenth centu-
ries. That study was accepted by the Academy."
"I know, and I have great respect for your
knowledge."
"Well, the thing is simple. The oldest paper
showed a plain, glossy surface, but soon there ap-
peared wide lines crossed at intervals by perpen-
dicular lines, both giving the impression of a metal
trellis over which the paste had been spread. From
the fourteenth century they used these as a
maker's mark, and in the end they designed figures
in brass wire, initials, words, emblems of all sorts
these are the water-marks. Every sheet of
water-marked paper tells its tale, and the year of
its make can be detected, but the difficulty is to
decipher it. This necessitates a little practice."
Theophraste opened his portfolio and took out
the paper.
"Can you tell me the exact date of this?"
Ambrose put on his eyeglass and took the paper
to the daylight.
40 THE DOUBLE LIFE
"There is the date," he said, "172, the last
figure is rubbed out. It must be of the eighteenth
century."
"Oh," said Theophraste, "I saw that date quite
well, but do you really think that the paper is -of
that century? Does not the date lie? That is
what I want to know."
Ambrose showed him the center of the paper.
"See?"
Theophraste said nothing. Then Ambrose lit a
small lamp and held the paper up before it. In
illuminating the document one could detect in the
thickness of the paper the design of a crown.
"Theophraste," said Ambrose excitedly, "that
paper is exceedingly rare. That mark is almost
unknown, for a very little paper was made with
that sign, which is called the Crown of Thorns.
That paper, my dear Theophraste, was made in
1721."
"You are sure?"
"Yes, but tell me," cried Ambrose, who could
not conceal his surprise, "how is it that this docu-
ment, dated 1721, could be by all visible marks in
your handwriting?"
Theophraste said nothing, but getting up and
putting the document back into the portfolio, he
hastened out of the house.
A SEARCH AND A DISCOVERY 41
And so here was proof enough. He could doubt
it no longer. This paper, dated in the beginning
of the eighteenth century, in the time of the Re-
gents, this sheet that he had sought for in the
prison, distinctly bore his own handwriting. He
had written on that sheet, he, Theophraste
Longuet, late maker of rubber stamps, who re-
tired last week at the age of 41 he wrote on that
sheet of paper these incomprehensible words in
1721. However, it did not want Signer Petito or
Ambrose to prove it to him. He knew it him-
self. Everything within him cried out, "It is your
paper!" And so instead of being Theophraste
Longuet, son of John Longuet, master gardener
to the Ferte sous Jonaise, he had been in the past
some one he did not know, but who had been re-
born in him. Yes, that was it, and he now had the
great desire to recall having lived 200 years.
Who was he? What was his name? In which
body had his immortal soul elected momentarily to
live? He felt certain that these questions would
not remain long unanswered. Was it true that
some of the things ignored in his present existence
constituted part of his past life? What was meant
by certain expressions spoken in the Conciergerie?
Who, then, was Simon de Anvergust, whose name
had been twice repeated by his burning lips?
42 THE DOUBLE LIFE
"Yes, yes, the name, in former times my own, his
also," wrote Theophraste in his journal, "arose
from my awakened brain, and knowing 1 who I was,
I recalled the whole life lived in former years, and
I read in a flash from that piece of paper all the
details of a past life."
Monsieur Theophraste Longuet, to state the
matter frankly, had not arrived at the conclusion
without having, in these incoherent lines, wandered
before. The happenings of these days were too
unusual. Imagine, he was simple-minded, a little
heavy, a little foppish, he had never invented any-
thing in his life. He was just an amiable, honest
citizen, stupid and headstrong. He had no re-
ligion. He left that to the women, and without
declaring his atheism, used to say: "When one
dies, it is forever." However, now he had discov-
ered by an extraordinary incident, that one never
dies. He had to support this, and in doing so de-
clared that not even those in the business, in occult
science, frequenting spirits daily, could have
such palpable proof. In the end Theophraste
made his resolution quickly.
This anterior existence could no longer be de-
nied, although he knew nothing about it. In the
uncertainty of his mind he could not associate the
date 1721 with his visit to the Conciergerie.
A SEARCH AND A DISCOVERY 43
However, he came to this final conclusion. In
he had been confined in the Conciergerie
Prison, probably as a prisoner of state. He could
not admit for a second that he, Theophraste Lon-
guet, had been shut up, even under Louis XV, as a
common criminal. In a solemn moment, perhaps
before being put to torture, he had drawn up this
document and hidden the paper between the stones
in the dungeon, and passing by there two centuries
later, had found it again. This was simple enough
and not the result of any supernatural inspiration.
The facts themselves were enough.
Certain words of the document were in them-
selves quite natural and of the most momentous im-
portance. These were "Treasure . ,. . treach-
ery of the first of April."
It was with these words that he hoped to dis-
cover his identity. First, he had been rich and
powerful. The words about the treasure showed
conclusively that the man had been rich and that
he had buried his treasure. He had been powerful
and had been betrayed. Theophraste had in his
mind that the treason had been a memorable trea-
son, perhaps historic the treachery of the first
of April.
Yes, all the oddities and all the mysteries of the
document left at least a glimpse of something cer-
44 THE DOUBLE LIFE
tain : that he had been a great personage, that he
had buried his treasures; and that after having
buried them mysteriously, more mysteriously still
revealed their existence, at the price of much cun-
ning ; perhaps at the price of his own blood. With-
out doubt those tinted words had been written with
blood.
Later he proposed to ask a distinguished chem-
ist to examine it. The treasures belonged to him,
and if necessary he would use this document to
establish his right to them.
Theophraste was not rich. He had retired from
business with a modest little income. He had a
comfortable little house with a garden and bowling
alley. However, this was little, with the somewhat
extravagant tastes of Marceline, and so the treas-
ure would be most acceptable. He therefore ap-
plied himself diligently to the research.
It must be said, though, to his credit, that he
was much more puzzled by the mystery of his per-
sonality than by the mystery of the treasure, and
that he resolved to temporarily suspend his re-
search until the time when he could at least give a
name to this personage that he had been Theo-
phraste Longuet in 1721. That discovery which
interested him most came to be in his mind the key
of all the others.
A SEARCH AND A DISCOVERY 45
That which astonished him most was the sudden
development of what he called his "historical in-
stinct," the instinct which had been deficient in him
all his life, but which had been revealed to him with
the suddenness and force of a clap of thunder in
the depths of the Conciergerie. In one moment,
the Other, as he used to say in conversing of this
great 18th-century personage, had possessed him.
It was the Other who had found the document ; it
was the Other who had cried out in the Concier-
gerie; it was the Other who had called to Simon
1'Anvergust, and since the Other had disappeared,
Theophraste did not know what had become of
him. He sought him in vain; he examined him-
self ; he searched his very soul.
Before this adventure Theophraste had no cu-
riosity about the beginning or ending of things,
he had not wasted time in wondering over philo-
sophical mysteries; in his vanity he had always
shrugged his shoulders at such things. However,
now things were different ; here was a quiet citizen,
with little scientific knowledge, who had to prove
that a manufacturer of India rubber in the year
1899 had been shut up in a dungeon after having
buried treasures in 1721. But the revelation of
this extraordinary fact had come to him sponta-
46 THE DOUBLE LIFE
neously and remained so fixed in his mind that he
resolved to probe the matter to the bottom.
His instinct abandoned him momentarily and
he would search books and discover who this pow-
erful, rich person was who had been betrayed on
April 1st; which April 1st? This remained to be
determined. He haunted the libraries from that
time on. He marshaled before him the Premiers
of the Kingdom. He found nothing to give him a
clue. Some dukes and peers, some illustrious gen-
erals, some great financiers, a few princes of the
blood. He stopped an instant at Law, but he was
too dissipated ; at Maurice de Saxe, who ought to
have won the Battle of Fontenoy; at the Count
du Barry, who had had the most beautiful mistress
in Paris. He feared that perhaps he had been
the Count de Charolais, who distinguished himself
by his debauches, and killed the thatchers on the
roofs by shooting at them. He was forty-eight
hours the Cardinal of Palegria, but was disgusted
when he learned that his Eminence had been a farm
hand for the Duchess of Maine. It was refreshing
to find in some corner of history a sympathetic
count or lord that the writers of the epoch had
adorned in engaging colors and on whom they had
Bestowed some virtues. But Theophraste soon saw
that all these would have to be abandoned. For
A SEARCH AND A DISCOVERY 47
none of them had the principal qualifications of
having been shut up in the Conciergerie in 1721,
or having been betrayed on an April 1st.
However, in the Journal of the Barber, he dis-
covered a bastard of the Regent, about whom
were some startling facts which precipitated him
into a state of great excitement.
Before entering into the details, however, of this
discovery, we will return to the doings of Marce-
line and M. Adolphe Lecamus.
CHAPTER IV
Some Philosophy and a Song
T ET us leave Paris awhile and return to the lit-
^ tie estate on the banks of the Marne, which
Theophraste generally moved to with the first rays
of the July sun. This year he was to go there be-
fore Marceline and his friend, Adolphe, who had
been commissioned to survey the timbers on some
lands elsewhere. Thus these last few days he
could spend alone in security and peace to attend
to this unusual treatise which his new position in
the world had given him.
The name of the house was "Villa Flots
d'Azure." Theophraste had given it this name
against the wishes of Adolphe, who protested that
the name was for a villa near the sea. He had re-
plied with logic that he had often gone to the Pre-
port, and that he had always see the sea green;
that he knew the Marne, and that on account of the
reflected blue sky the water seemed blue. Do they
48
PHILOSOPHY, AND A SONG 49
not say "the beautiful blue Danube" ? It was not
only the ocean that had blue waves, so he did not
see why he should not call his villa on the Marne
"Villa Flots d' Azure."
That day was the anniversary of their marriage.
Theophraste was very fond of Marceline, and
these anniversaries were always the occasion for
much merry-making. Marceline also loved Theo-
phraste, and saw no reason why she should not
like Adolphe equally as well, whereas, on the other
side, Adolphe adored Marceline and would have
died for Theophraste. On reflection, the name
"Villa Flots d' Amour" would have been more ap-
propriate than "Villa Flots d' Azure," such har-
mony existed therein.
Theophraste shook Adolphe's hand effusively.
He complimented his wife on her beauty. He had
his green umbrella that day, and in making his
congratulations twirled it in a fashion, as he
thought, resembling the manner in which they used
canes in the beginning of the eighteenth century.
He was not a vain person, but he knew by this
scientific miracle that he had been a great man
two hundred years ago, and he felt that he should
convey the impression that he had moved among
great people and affairs.
It was their custom upon their return to their
50 THE DOUBLE LIFE
country house to invite a few friends to a party to
celebrate the occasion. Upon this occasion Theo-
phraste was at his best. He was in high spirits,
and while passing the good word to the gentlemen,
made flattering speeches to the ladies. The table
was set in the garden under a tent where the guests
assembled. After a while the conversation turned
to the latest doings in angling. M. Lopard had
caught a trout of three pounds ; old M. Tartoush
had cast his line on Sunday having caught noth-
ing, complained that people made too much noise
shooting during the week, and drove the fish from
these waters. All joined in the conversation and
gave their experiences except M. Theophraste.
He kept silent. He found the topic too com-
monplace and felt a desire to raise its level. He
wanted it to drift into some subject related to
that preoccupying his mind. After awhile he was
able to get Adolphe interested in the subject of
ghosts. From ghosts the conversation led on to
spiritualism. One lady knew a somnambulist and
related some strange stories which were calculated
to work upon the imagination of the company.
Adolphe, upon this, explained the spiritualistic
point of view of the phenomena of somnambulism,
and cited well-known authorities. He seemed quite
PHILOSOPHY, AND A SONG 51
in his element, and finally reached the point desired
by Theophraste, the transmigration of souls and
reincarnation.
"Is it possible," said Marceline, "that a soul
comes back to live in its body? You have often
told me so, Adolphe, but it seems to me that one's
reason strongly repulses such an hypothesis."
"Nothing is lost in Nature," replied Adolphe,
positively. "Neither the soul nor the body. All is
transformed, the soul as well as the body. The
reincarnation of souls at the end of a century is
a doctrine which goes back to such great antiquity
that the ancient philosophers do not deny it."
"If one's soul returned to a body," said Mar-
celine, "one would surely know it."
"Not always," said Adolphe, "but sometimes."
"Ah, sometimes?" asked Theophraste, who was
by this time becoming intensely interested.
"Yes, there are cases. For instance: Ptolemy
Caesar, son of Caesar and Cleopatra, who was king
of Egypt before Christ, remembered well to have
been Pythagoras, a Greek philosopher, who lived
600 years before."
"Impossible!" cried the ladies, and the gentle-
men smiled skeptically.
"You need not laugh, gentlemen. It is impos-
sible to be more serious. Our actual transforma-
52 THE DOUBLE LIFE
tion, which is the final word in science, is in full
accord with the theory of reincarnation. What is
transformation except the idea that living things
transform themselves, progressing one into
another? Nature presents herself to us under the
aspect of a spark, elaborately perfecting without
ceasing to create, to attain an ideal which will be
the millennium. Whatever Nature does for the
body she does for the soul. It can be proved, for
I have studied this side a great deal, and it is the
original of all sciences.
Monsieur Adolphe was not understood by the
company, a fact of which he was inwardly proud.
He liked to feel a superiority of intellect, and
often he would raise the conversation above the
level of his audience just to gratify his vanity. He
touched on many points which only need be re-
ferred to lightly here in order to convince
skeptics that the extraordinary history of Theo-
phraste is founded on a most scientific basis.
"The transmigration of souls was taught in
India," said Adolphe; "the cradle of the genus
human, then in Egypt, then in Greece. They
chanted its mysteries in the name of Orpheus.
Pythagoras, who continued the teaching, did not
admit with the philosophers on the banks of the
Ganges that the soul traveled over the cycle of
PHILOSOPHY, AND A SONG 53
all animal existence. He made it come back, for ex-
ample, into a pig."
"There are some men," said Madame Beulie,
"who still have the souls of pigs."
"Without doubt," said Adolphe, smiling; "but
what Pythagoras says is that we must not con-
clude from that, that pigs have the souls of men.
Plato also adopts this doctrine. It is the first
which gave in the Phidon the proof that souls do
not exile themselves forever and that they come
back to animate bodies anew."
"Oh, if we could only get proof of that it would
be nothing for me to die," declared old Mile.
Tabouret, who had a mortal terror of dying.
"Here are the proofs," continued Adolphe.
"They are two in number. One is taken from the
general law of Nature, the other from human na-
ture. First, Nature is governed by the laws of
contraries, and from that we see that while death
succeeds life, all would end by being absorbed in
death, and Nature would one day come to an end
like Endymion. Therefore I say that we exist
after death.
"Secondly, if after consulting the general laws
of Nature we turn to our own minds, we will find
there the same dogma attested by the fact of re-
semblance. 'To learn,' said Plato, 'is nothing
54 THE DOUBLE LIFE
but to recollect. Since our souls learn, they must
have a resemblance. What does it recollect except
to have lived, and to have lived in another body?
Why can we not believe that in leaving the body
while it is animate at this time it can animate sev-
eral others in succession? 5 I quote Plato liter-
ally," remarked Adolphe.
Then he passed from Plato to a modern author-
ity. "Charles Fournier has said : 'Where is the old
man who has not truly wished to be born again,
and to use in another life the experience he has
acquired in this?' To pretend that that desire
ought not to be realized is to admit that God can
deceive us. We ought then to recognize that we
have lived previous to being what we are, and that
several other lives await us. All these lives, to the
number of eight hundred and ten, are distributed
between five periods and embrace a span of eighty-
one thousand years. Allan Hardai reckons that
the soul returns to another body after two or
three thousand years unless we die a violent death.
Then it is quite possible one can be reincarnated
after two hundred years."
Adolphe had by this time drawn all around him
and became the center of attraction by his enter-
taining remarks. Theophraste had sat open-eyed,
listening intently, and upon hearing the last re-
PHILOSOPHY, AND A SONG 55
mark thought "That is well. They may have
hung me; so if I did not die that way, they may
have got rid of me by some other death more in
keeping with my station in life. Nevertheless,"
he thought, "if all these people here could only
realize that they had a prince of the royal blood
among them, they would be very much astonished,
and be filled with respect. But no, he will still be
Theophraste Longuet, manufacturer of rubber
stamps."
Champagne was brought, and soon the air rang
merrily with general chatter and the explosion of
corks. It was then that Marceline turned around
to Theophraste and begged him to sing the song
which he was accustomed to sing on the anniver-
sary of their marriage. He had sung it the day
of their wedding, and on account of its beauty
they had adopted it as their wedding song. It
was Lissette de Baranger.
However, to the consternation of Marceline and
all the guests, instead of singing the song, he rose,
threw his napkin on the table and said to her in
that strange voice which they heard at the Con-
ciergerie :
"As thou wishest, Marie Antoinette, I can re-
fuse thee nothing."
56 THE DOUBLE LIFE
"Oh, my God," cried Marceline. "Hear what
he called me in that strange voice !"
The guests were obviously uncomfortable, and
did not know what to make of his peculiar be-
havior. The song was a vulgar song of the Re-
gency period, and certainly not for such a gath-
ering as was at this party. He sang it with the
old French air :
Tou joli belle mimiere
Tou joti, moulin.
CHAPTER V
Theophraste Remembers Himself
HEOPHRASTE sang the song in loud, stri-
JL dent tones, his eyes sparkling, glass in
hand. It was with indescribable surprise that the
company received it, and despite the richness of
the rhyme, the couplet was followed by no ap-
plause. An awkward silence followed, and all the
ladies looked to Marceline for an explanation.
What was it that Marceline could explain?
Adolphe himself looked at Theophraste in sur-
prise ; but Theophraste, as if possessed with the
devil, continued with the second couplet of the
drinking song. When he had finished, he sat
down, looked around with satisfaction, and said to
Marceline, "What do you think of that, Marie
Antoinette?"
In the midst of a death-like silence preserved by
all, Marceline asked tremblingly, "Why do you
call me Marie Antoinette ?"
57
58 THE DOUBLE LIFE
"Because you are the most beautiful of all!"
cried Theophraste. "I appeal to Madame la Mare-
chale de Bouffleurs, who has taste. I appeal to all
of you. And there is not one who, by the signet
of the Pope, will contradict me, neither the Eros
Picards, nor the Bourbons, nor the Burgundias,
nor the Provincials, nor the Poet St. Jack, nor
Gatelard, nor Bras-de-Fer, nor Guente Noir, not
even Bal-a-voir."
M. Theophraste had on his right old Mile. Ta-
bouret, and he pinched her knee as he looked at
Marceline, which nearly made that austere person
faint. No one dared to move ; for the fiery look of
Theophraste frightened the whole company. He
leaned amorously towards Mile. Tabouret, and
said to her, staring at Marceline, who was by this
time weeping: "Let us see, Mile. Tabouret, am I
not right? To whom can I compare her? Is it
La Belle Laitere, or La Petite Minion ; or even La
Blanche of the bowling alley ; or La Belle Helene,
who kept the Harp Tavern?"
Turning towards Adolphe, he said with great
energy, "Come you, Va-de-Bon Coeur, tell me
your opinion. Look at Marie Antoinette a little
while. By the fatted calf, she puts them all in
the shade: Jeannette, the flower girl of the Royal
Palace ; Marie Leroy and the female Solomon, the
THEOPHRASTE REMEMBERS 59
beauty of the Temple ; Jeanne Ronnef oy, who
kept the cafe of the Port Marie; Manon de Ver-
sailles, the poultry girl none of them approach
her in beauty."
He then leapt with one bound upon the table,
and breaking the dishes, cups and plates into a
thousand pieces, held his glass over his head and
shouted, "Let us drink to the Queen of the
Nymphs, Marie Antoinette."
Draining his glass, he smashed it against the
table and waved his hand, which was covered with
blood. By this time the party had fled in terror,
fearing that some tragedy would follow Theo-
phraste's strange behavior. On superficially
thinking of these curious actions one would im-
mediately conclude that he had gone mad or was
drunk, but this was not the case. There is an-
other kind of sense beside common sense. It was
not because he was crazy or drunk that he could
sing a song that he had never learnt, speak a lan-
guage that he had never heard, or refer to people
that he had never read about, who had. been dead
for centuries. There must have been some other
force working in his brain.
Modern scientific experiments have shown with
indisputable examples that this particular case
was far from unique. Ignorant people, who
60 THE DOUBLE LIFE
neither knew how to read or write, who had never
been outside their village, have been known to
give most correct answers to the medium who
questioned them in a dead language. And this
has been before professors of colleges, not before
charlatans. It is difficult to explain. It is the
mystery of this life, the life hereafter. Some say
that it is a learned spirit talking through these
ignorant mouths, others have timidly expressed
the opinion that such phenomena can only be ex-
plained by the remembrance of a former life.
Therefore the things which Theophraste said and
did without understanding, the Other who relives
in him at intervals understands perfectly well, and
if we would understand them we must know who
this Other is.
As to Theophraste, after the guests had dis-
appeared from the tent, he climbed down from
the table. He found it more difficult to reach the
floor than it had been to climb upon the table,
and he knelt down, taking great precaution not
to fall. He then assumed his natural self and
called Marceline. She did not answer him, and
in searching for her he found her trembling with
fright in her room. He closed the door carefully
and prepared to give an explanation. She looked
at him with her large eyes, amazed, filled with
THEOPHRASTE REMEMBERS 61
tears, and he felt it his duty as a husband not to
conceal from her any longer this extraordinary
phenomenon which had been preoccupying his
mind.
The night was ideal, and after they had retired
he said to her, "My dear Marceline, you cannot
understand what has happened to me this evening,
and I can assure you I don't understand myself,
but in telling you all I know perhaps we can arrive
at some conclusion."
He then related all the details of his visits to
the cellars of the Conciergerie. He concealed noth-
ing, and sketched in minute details the extraor-
dinary feelings which had actuated him that even-
ing, and the unknown influence which had com-
manded him. At first she said nothing, but softly
moved away from him as if afraid of him; but
when he came to the document which revealed the
existence of the treasures, she demanded to see it
at once. He judged then that she was taking an
interest in the adventure and felt thankful. They
got up and he showed her the paper in the light of
the full moon, which was streaming into the room.
Like all those who had seen it before, she recog-
nized the handwriting immediately, and made the
sign of the cross as if fearing some sorcery. Mar-
62 THE DOUBLE LIFE
celine was not a fool, but explained that she could
not help making the sign. However, she soon be-
came composed, and began to praise Adolphe,
who, in spite of Theophraste's disapproval, had in-
itiated her into the elements of spiritualism, a
science she said which would be of some service to
Theophraste in his condition. But even in the face
of that uncontestable evidence she found it diffi-
cult to believe that he was a reincarnated spirit
dating back two hundred years, until he asked her
who she thought he had been.
Marceline didn't think that he had been a very
great personage, and in reply to his disappointed
inquiry she said:
"Because this evening you sang in slang, and
the ladies whose names you mentioned do not be-
long to the aristocracy. People who frequented
La Terpidere, La Platire, Manon de Versailles, I
think are not of much account."
"But I also mentioned the leader of the Bouf-
fleurs," replied Theophraste, "and you know that
morals were so dissolute under the Regency of the
Duke of Orleans that the fashion at Court was to
call the ladies in slighting terms. What 'do you
think of the idea of me being the Bastard of the
Regent?"
THEOPHRASTE REMEMBERS 63
For sole response she embraced Theophraste in
delight, and recollecting his duty on this day
of celebration proved to her that if he was more
than two hundred years old, his love always re-
mained youthful.
CHAPTER VI
M . Lecamus Expresses His Views.
AFTER a while Marceline was able to persuade
Theophraste to confide in M. Adolphe
Lecamus. She declared that Adolphe' s great ex-
perience, his certain knowledge of the science of
metaphysics, ought to be a great help to a man
who had buried treasures two hundred years be-
fore and wished to find them again. "And," she
added, "it is he who will be able to reveal your
identity."
He yielded to her persuasions, and in the morn-
ing told Adolphe everything. Adolphe was
astonished, and it surprised Theophraste that a
man who professed Spiritualism should show so
much emotion when face to face with a reincar-
nated spirit. He said that Theophraste's conduct
at the dinner table the day before and the words
he uttered to him before and since the visit to the
Conciergerie were well calculated to prepare him
64
I. LECAMUS' VIEWS 65
for such a confidence, but he did not expect such
a thing as this. He demanded to see the proof
of such a phenomenon. Theophraste readily
showed the document, and Adolphe could not deny
the authenticity of it. He recognized the hand-
writing at once, and exclaimed, upon examination,
that the handwriting explained many things to
him. He had often thought how curiously the
characters in Theophraste's handwriting differed
from his real character. It had always been diffi-
cult for him to associate the handwriting with
Theophraste.
"Really," said Theophraste, "what character
do you ascribe to me?"
"Well, if you will promise not to bear me any
ill, I will tell you!"
On this assurance he painted Theophraste's
character. It was that of a kind citizen, an hon-
est merchant, an excellent husband, but a man in-
capable of showing any firmness, wit or energy.
He told him also that his timidity was excessive,
and that kindness was always ready to degenerate
into weakness. The picture was not at all flatter-
ing, and Theophraste felt a little hurt.
"And now," said he, "that you have told me
what you think of my character, tell me what you
think of my writing."
66 THE DOUBLE LIFE
Then he made observations on his handwriting
which would not have failed to make him quite
angry if he had not remembered that Signor Petito
had said the same. He said :
"Your writing expresses all the contrary senti-
ments in your nature as I know it, and I can im-
agine nothing more antithetical than your writing
and your real character. Thus you do not write
a characteristic hand* but the handwriting of
the Other."
Theophraste was deeply interested. He thought
of the strength and energy of the Other, he im-
agined that he was a great captain. However,
Adolphe's next remark completely disillusioned
him.
"Any sign in those formations, in the pointed
fashion they have of reuniting, and in the way of
growing tall and of climbing up, and of passing
each other, show energy, firmness, obstinacy, ar-
dor, activity, and ambition, but all for evil."
This dismayed him, but he exclaimed with a
show of spirit: "Where is the evil? Where is the
good? If Attila had known how to write perhaps
he would have written like Napoleon."
"They called Attila the scourge of God."
"And Napoleon the scourge of man," replied
Theophraste, with difficulty controlling his anger.
M. LECAMUS' VIEWS 67
How could it be that Theophraste Longuet
could have been anything else but an honest being
before his birth, during his life, and after his
death?
Marceline agreed with him, and Adolphe fear-
ing that he had gone too far made apologies.
CHAPTER VII
Theophraste and His Black Plume
FOR the next few days M. Lecamus and M.
Longuet occupied themselves with evidence
of this phenomenon, and were often seen together,
conversing mysteriously, in the bar-rooms and
about town, about the treason of the first of April.
They left the Villa Flots d'Azure to return to
Paris, with the intention of searching the lib-
raries. They worked diligently for several days
without any result, until M. Longuet began to lose
spirit. M. Lecamus was more patient.
One evening as they were walking towards the
Rond Point, in the Champs Elysees, he turned
around and said, "What can we do to find the ap-
proximate place where the treasures are buried if
you have not your black plume?" Theophraste
and Marceline could not understand this, and
asked for an explanation. He commented:
"You have heard of the water witches who could
68
THEOPHRASTE'S PLUME 69
discover water by the aid of a wand, by a phenom-
enon which nobody has as yet been able to ex-
plain. These witches traced water across the vari-
ous beds of earth, and by pointing the little rods,
indicated where it was necessary to dig in order to
make a well. I do not despair of showing you,
Theophraste, where your treasures are buried. I
will conduct you over the ground shown in the
document, and tell you where it is that you must
dig to find your treasure."
"Yes," interrupted Theophraste, "but this does
not explain to us what you mean by 'the black
plume. 5 "
"I am coming to that now. I am obliged to
speak of Darwin. You will understand directly.
You know that Darwin devoted himself to several
celebrated experiments, of which the best known is
that with pigeons.
"Desirous of accounting for the phenomenon
of heredity and the value that he attached to it,
he closely studied the breeding of pigeons, which
is sufficiently rapid to have enabled him to draw
conclusions upon an appreciable number of gen-
erations. At the end of the tenth generation he
found the same type of pigeon, with the same de-
fects, the same qualities, the same form, the same
outline, and the same black plume there in the same
70 THE DOUBLE LIFE
place where the first pigeon had a black feather.
Very well! With that I will prove to you that it
is the same with souls as it is with bodies.
"At the end of the tenth generation, we find
the same soul, as far as it exists, with the same
defects, the same virtues, and, as it were, with the
original black feather. While giving you this
illustration, it is necessary to distinguish between
the soul which reappears thus hereditarily, and
that which comes back by reincarnation. Believ-
ing that it is the result of a unique combination
which nothing can oppose, and, since it dwells in a
case called a body, is hereditary in the same degree
as that body, an hereditary soul which comes from
an ancestor always has his black feather, while a
soul which comes back by reincarnation finds itself
in a body which is in no way prepared to receive
it. The aggregate materials of this body are
original, and decaying, momentarily impose a sil-
ence on that soul.
"But a time comes when this soul becomes the
strongest, when it speaks, when it shows itself en-
tirely, just as the black feather does.
"Now, Theophraste, for several generations
you were the honest gardeners in the Ferte-sous-
Jonarre. But when that soul speaks in you, you
are no longer yourself. Theophraste Longuet
THEOPHRASTE'S PLUME 71
has disappeared. It is the Other who is there. It
is the Other who has the gesture, the manner, the
action, the black feather. It is the other who re-
calls the mystery of the treasure, it is the Other
who remembers the Other."
"Oh! This is admirable!" exclaimed Theo-
phraste, who was so deeply moved that he could
hardly refrain from weeping with excitement.
"And now I understand what you mean by my
black feather. My black feather returns to me
when I am the Other."
"And he will help you then, my friend," declared
Adolphe with conviction. "But until we have re-
leased the unknown who is hidden in Theophraste
Longuet, and until he lives with sufficient strength,
audacity, and liberty, until he is resuscitated, in
a word, until he appears to us with his 'black
feather,' we will confine ourselves to the study of
that interesting document which you brought
from the Conciergerie. Let us make a plan for
penetrating the mystery. We will find out exactly
where the treasures are buried, but we must wait
for the spirit who dwells in you to say to us, 'It
is there.' "
"My friend," said Marceline, overflowing with
admiration, "you talk like a book, and I wonder
that you have not more often tried to teach us
72 THE DOUBLE LIFE
these things, for we are so ignorant. You must
not leave a stone unturned to find the treasure.
1 do not fear the destruction of the earth on ac-
count of the object of our search."
Adolphe turned around to reprove Marceline
for her flippancy, but at this moment M. Milf roid,
the Commissioner of Police, approached, and
Adolphe rose to greet his friend.
Adolphe introduced M. Milfroid to M. and
Mme. Longuet. He was a man of about forty
years of age, elegantly dressed, immaculate gloves,
a silvery ringlet of hair on the white forehead.
He advanced, smiling and bowing.
"We have often heard our friend M. Adolphe
speak of you," said Marceline. "Yoljf fame has
gone before you."
"Oh, madame, I have known you for a long
time. Every time I meet M. Lecamus he speaks to
me of his friends of the Rue Gerauds, and in such
terms that it has been my greatest desire to have
the happiness of being presented to you."
Marceline was conquered by such gallant man-
ners. "I hear that you play the violin very well,"
she said.
"I am equally interested in philosophy," said
M. Milfroid. "An interest which I owe to M.
Adolphe, who is continually in dispute with me
THEOPHRASTE'S PLUME 73
over the immortality of the soul, and other psy-
chic matters. He has really made a convert of
me."
"Monsieur," said Theophraste, who had not yet
taken part in the conversation, "Adolphe and I
like to converse about serious matters, also. We
were just speaking of the relations between the
soul and the body, and the different ways that the
soul has of behaving with the body."
"Ah!" said M. Milfroid, who desired to shine
before Marceline, "are you able to distinguish be-
tween matter and mind, or the material and the
spiritual? Matter and mind are the same thing
in the eyes of science. That is to say, they con-
stitute alike one unit, one force, produce at one
time the phenomenon of cause and effect, tending
to one end, the progressive steps of existence. You
are the only ones, gentlemen, to still make that old
distinction between matter and mind."
After a while they rose and returned through
the Place de la Concorde. At the entrance to the
Rue Royale, there was a crowd of people, shout-
ing and gesticulating. Theophraste, an old Pa-
risian, wanted to know what was taking place, and
flung himself into the crowd.
"Look out for pickpockets," Marceline called
to him.
74 THE DOUBLE LIFE
"Oh, madame," said Monsieur Milfroid, the
Commissioner of Police, "there are no pickpockets
when I am about."
"It is true. We should be in no danger when
you are here."
"I do not know about that," said Adolphe, look-
ing about them. "My friend here appears more
dangerous to me than all the pickpockets on
earth." At this they all laughed.
Theophraste made them wait ten minutes before
he appeared, and then he announced that it was
a coachman who had gotten his wheels locked
with an automobile, and could not separate them.
Marceline felt annoyed at having been kept
waiting so long on such a slight pretext. How-
ever, her thoughts were diverted in doing the hon-
ors of a hostess, and she invited M. Milfroid to
dinner.
During the dinner many pleasantries were
passed, and M. Milfroid excelled in complimenting
Marceline.
Suddenly, he became uneasy, and plunging his
hands in his pockets, looked vainly for his hand-
kerchief. After a final and useless search, he
passed his forefinger under his moustache, and
sighed, declaring that it did not matter.
However, at that moment Theophraste wiped
THEOPHRASTE'S PLUME 75
his mouth, and Marceline asked him where he had
found such a beautiful handkerchief. M. Mil-
froid at once recognized it as his own, and think-
ing it just a piece of pleasantry, took the hand-
kerchief from Theophraste. However, feeling in
his left side, he became pale and exclaimed, "Good
God ! I have lost my pocketbook. There were five
hundred francs in it." M. Milf roid did not regret
losing the five hundred francs, but he found him-
self ridiculed by Adolphe, and Marceline teased
him gently and laughed prettily. They were all
poking fun at him, and this made him furious.
"M. Milfroid," said Theophraste, "if you need
any money for the evening I can lend it to you,"
and he drew a wallet from his pocket. M. Milfroid
uttered a cry: it was his! M. Milfroid took the
wallet from him as he had done the handkerchief,
and alleging numerous engagements, he took his
leave. Before going down the stairs, he said to his
friend Adolphe, who followed him, "These are nice
kind of people you have introduced me to."
When Adolphe returned to the dining-room,
Theophraste was emptying his pockets. On the
table there lay three watches, six handkerchiefs,
several pocketbooks, containing large sums of
money, and eighteen checks.
CHAPTER VIII
An Appeal for Help
THE important events of this story and its
hero have occupied us to such an extent
that we have not found time to present Monsieur
Lecamus as he should be. The little that we know
of him does not effect our sympathy. The place
that he occupies in the house of Longuet, which
is eminently immoral; the cynicism with which he
deceives an innocent soul; the little danger that
he seems to run in accomplishing the larceny
these are good reasons why we have deferred show-
ing our contempt for him. It may be said that we
have judged hastily, and have not allowed him
to plead extenuating circumstances. The prin-
cipal one, and the one which it would be well for
us to dwell upon, is that he really liked Theo-
phraste above everybody else. He loved him with
his faults, his weaknesses, his ingenuousness, the
confidence he had in him, and above all, the admira-
tion Theophraste had for him. There was no
76
AN APPEAL FOR HELP 77
sacrifice he would not make for Theophraste, and
I daresay that if Theophraste had any pecuniary
troubles, which after all are the only troubles
which really count here below, Adolphe Lecamus
would open his purse, and give to him freely.
Adolphe loved Theophraste even above Marceline ;
and although I do not pretend to deal here with
psychology, I find myself confronted with a case
which is much less common than one would be in-
clined to believe. For Adolphe loved Marceline
because he had made her his mistress.
If he had learned, by some supernatural warn-
ing, that Theophraste would some day learn his
real position in the household, he would only have
respected Marceline. "But," he thought to him-
self, "Theophraste will never know anything about
it, and as unknown evils do not exist, I will be the
lover of the wife of my best friend."
These lines are necessary, that the reader may
understand properly the knavish tricks of the
lover. But we must understand distinctly
Adolphe's devotion to Theophraste.
After the departure of the Commissioner, they
all set themselves to consider what was to be done
with the articles which Theophraste had brought
home with him. At first they all sat silently look-
ing at the objects, no one wishing to break the
78 THE DOUBLE LIFE
silence, until Theophraste said, "I have nothing
more in my pockets. I really believe I have got my
black plume."
Marceline and Adolphe were startled by this,
but still did not say anything, and waited for
Theophraste to give some explanation. Then he
declared it was in the crowd at the Place de la
Concorde. He went in and out among the crowd,
and it was a very simple matter for him.
"What must we do?" asked Adolphe in a grave
voice ?"
"What do you wish me to do?" replied Theo-
phraste, who by this time had begun to confess.
"You do not think that I am going ,to keep
them! It is not my habit to keep things that do
not belong to me. I am an honest man and have
never wronged anybody. You must take them all
to M. Milfroid, your friend, the Commissioner of
Police. He can easily restore them to the owners."
"What can I say to him?"
"Whatever you wish," burst out Theophraste,
who was becoming impatient. "Did the honest
coachman who found a purse and fifty thousand
francs in his carriage think about what he should
say when he took them to the commissariat? He
simply said, 'I have found them in the carriage.'
That was sufficient. They even rewarded him for
AN APPEAL FOR HELP 79
it. You must say, 'My friend Longuet charged
me to bring this to you. He found them in his
pockets, and he does not wish a reward.' '
Marceline touched Adolphe with her foot under
the table. This was her customary way of secretly
drawing Adolphe's attention. She wanted to sig-
nify to him that she thought Theophraste was de-
mented, and her look quite showed it. Adolphe
understood. He knitted his brows and scratched
the tip of his nose. He felt that now was the time
to act. He looked from Theophraste to the pocket-
books, and coughing, said, "Theophraste, this is
riot natural. We have to explain ourselves. We
must understand. You must not close your eyes
to this misfortune. You must open them wide, and
bring your will to fight it."
"Of what misfortune are you speaking?" asked
Theophraste, becoming frightened.
"Well, is it not a misfortune to have things in
your pocket that do not belong to you?"
"I do not understand. You seem to be accus-
ing me of being dishonest. I am an honest man,
and whatever I have done dishonestly, I have done
against my will."
Having said these words, he fell back in his
chair in a dead faint, and a deep silence fell over
them all.
80 THE DOUBLE LIFE
When Theophraste came out of his stupor, his
eyes were full of tears. He motioned to his wife
and his friend to come nearer to him. When they
were beside him, he said, showing pitiable emo-
tion, "I feel that Adolphe is right. A great mis-
fortune menaces me, I know not what ! I know not
what! My God! I know not what! I know not
what!"
Adolphe and Marceline attempted to console
him, but he wept more. Then Marceline began to
weep.
In his emotion, Theophraste grasped them both
by the hand, and cried, "Swear never to abandon
me, no matter what happens, for, oh! some day I
shall need your help." They swore to him in good
faith.
Adolphe then asked to see the document. As
he spread the document before him, he said,
"Theophraste, tell me, do you ever have dreams?"
"It is very probable, but I only dream a very
little."
"Never?" insisted Adolphe.
"Scarcely ever. However, I remember to have
dreamed four or five times in my life, perhaps be-
cause I woke each time in the middle of my dream,
and it was always the same dream. But what pos-
AN APPEAL FOR HELP 81
sible interest can there be in this, to the subject
which is occupying us now, Adolphe?"
Adolphe continued: "Dreams have never been
explained by science. Science attributes them all
to the effects of the imagination, but it does not
give us the reason for these clear, distinct visions
which appear to us sometimes. Thus it explains
a thing which is not known by another which is no
better understood. It says that dreams are the
recollection of things which took place in a former
life. But even admitting this solution which is
a doubtful one we still have to find out what
is the magic mirror that serves so well to keep the
imprint of things. Moreover, how can one explain
visions of real things, events that one has never
seen in a former state, and of which one has never
even thought? Who can affirm that these are not
visions of retrospective past events in a former
life?"
"That is right, my dear Adolphe," said Theo-
phraste, "and I ought to confess the things that
1 have dreamed. I have dreamed them three times
as I said before, things that were perhaps true in
the past, or will be in the future. I have never
Seen them in a waking state in my present life."
*'You understand me," said Adolphe. "Relate
82 THE DOUBLE LIFE
to me the things that you have dreamed of and
have never seen."
"Oh, that will not take long. But so much the
better, for it is not very cheerful : I dreamed that
I was married to a woman named Marie Antoi-
nette, and then "
"And then?" interrupted Adolphe, who had
never taken his eyes off the document.
"And then I cut her up in pieces."
"Oh, horrors !" cried Marceline.
"It is horrible," continued Theophraste, shak-
ing his head. "Then I put the pieces in a basket
and threw them into the Seine by the little bridge
of the Hotel Dieu. I awoke then, and you may be
sure I was not sorry."
Adolphe struck the table a hard blow with his
fist. "It is frightful," he cried in a harsh voice,
looking at Theophraste.
"Is it not?" said Marceline, shuddering.
Adolphe read the first lines of the document.
"Oh, how dreadful it is !" he continued, groan-
ing. "Alas, alas I I understand all, now."
"What do you understand?" asked Theophraste
in a frightened voice, following Adolphe's finger
as he traced the first two lines of the document.
"This," said Adolphe. " <Moi et! I buried my,
treasures.' And you do not know what that 'et*
AN APPEAL FOR HELP 83
means? Well, I won't tell you until I am quite
sure. I will know to-morrow. Theophraste, to-
morrow at two o'clock be at the Rue Guinegaud
and the Rue Mazarin. I am going to take these
articles to M. Milfroid's house. He will restore
them to their owners, and we will prove to him that
there are pickpockets even when the Commissioner
is present. Adieu, my friend, adieu. Above all
take courage. Take courage." Adolphe shook
Theophraste's hand with the warmth of a com-
rade, and departed.
Theophraste did not sleep that night. While
Marceline reposed peacefully by his side, he lay
with eyes wide open in the darkness. His respira-
tion was irregular, and he sighed often. Anxiety
lay heavy upon him.
CHAPTER IX
The Portrait
AY broke over the city. A cloudy day, with
a mist that enveloped everything in a sin-
ister manner. The sun tried in vain to penetrate
that sombre atmosphere.
Mid-day showed a dark red ball, rolling inglori-
ously in a sulphurous light. Such was the picture
of the heavens that day.
Theophraste sprang out of bed early, and
awoke Marceline suddenly by an excess of fool-
ish hilarity. Marceline inquired the reason for
such strange joyfulness. He said that he could
not help laughing at the idea of M. Milfroid, the
Commissioner of Police, receiving back the stolen
goods which had been pickpocketed right before
his very eyes. "My dear Marceline," he said, "it
is foolish, the way people carry the money in their
pockets. If you cannot put your hand in, slip
a straw, filled with glue, in. It is an excellent
84
THE PORTRAIT 85
scheme for extricating money from people's
pockets."
Marceline sat up and gazed at him. She could
not understand, as he never looked more natural
in his life, and yet he was saying peculiar things,
and his words were most unnatural.
"Theophraste, you frighten me," she cried, and
in her fear, groaned, "My poor child."
Theophraste grew terribly angry. He threw
himself at his wife, and threatened to strike her.
"You know perfectly well that I do not wish to be
called a child since the death of Jeanneton-Venes.
I am no child."
Marceline swore that she would never do it
again, and in the depths of her soul regretted the
unlucky moment which had given her husband pro-
prietorship of a document which had brought into
the household such fears and such follies. She
knew neither Marie Antoinette, nor Jeanneton-
Venes, although he continually referred to them.
He had a familiar way of expressing himself about
these women which made her uneasy, and finally
the unexpected sentences, spoken by Theophraste,
and his actions, made her dread the incomprehen-
sible Theophraste of two hundred years ago. It
made her long for the former Theophraste, so
kind, so easy to understand. Then she gave her-
86 THE DOUBLE LIFE
self up to bitter reflections upon the theory of re-
incarnation.
Theophraste finished dressing, and then an-
nouncing that he would not breakfast at home, said
that he had a rendezvous with his friend Va-de-
Bon Creur, at the corner of the Rue Mazarin
and Rue Guinegaud, to do a good turn for M. de
Francouse, but as that rendezvous was after
breakfast, he intended enjoying the air in the
Moulin de Chopinette.
"You will leave my green umbrella here," he
said, "and I will take my black feather." Then,
putting the final touches to his cravat, he went out.
On the landing he met Signor Petito, the Italian
professor, who was also going downstairs. Signor
Petito bowed very low, complained of the state
of the weather, and complimented Theophraste on
his appearance.
Theophraste answered in a less amiable tone,,
as he was not desiring the Signer's company, and
he demanded of him if Madame Petito could not
be induced to learn another air on the piano than
"Carnival de Venice." But Signor Petito replied,
smiling, that she was already studying "Love's
Destiny," but in future she would study only the
pieces which would please M. Longuet. He then
asked, "Which way are you going?"
THE PORTRAIT 87
"For a turn in the Moulin de Chopinette; but
the weather is too bad, so I will have to go down
to the Porcherons."
"To the Porcherons?" Signor Petito was going
to ask, but he changed his mind. "Where is the
Porcherons ?" he asked. "I will go, too."
"Aha, indeed !" said M. Longuet, glancing curi-
ously at Signor Petito. "You too will go to the
Porcherons?"
"Go there or somewhere else," said Signor
Petito, pleasantly, and he followed Theophraste.
At the end of a short silence Signor Petito ven-
tured to ask, "Where are your treasures, M.
Longuet ?"
Theophraste faced about suddenly. "What has
put such an idea into your head?" he exclaimed.
"Do you not remember the day that you
brought the specimen of your handwriting and
asked for my opinion?"
"I remember, and you were wrong," said Theo-
phraste drily, as he opened his umbrella.
Signor Petito, in nowise discouraged, placed
himself under the shelter of Theophraste's um-
brella. "Oh! M. Longuet, I did not say that to
annoy you."
They arrived at the corner of the Avenue Tre-
daine. Theophraste was in very bad humor.
88 THE DOUBLE LIFE
"Monsieur," he said, "I have an appointment at
the tavern of the Veau-qui-telle, by the side of the
Chapel Porcherons, here, you see."
"But we are at the Chapel Notre Dame de Lor-
rete, and not the Porcherons, at all."
Theophraste disregarded Petito's remark, and
suddenly said to him, "Do you know that there is
a price on my head?"
Signor Petito seemed taken aback by this sudden
change of tone.
"It will cost them dear, though, to get my
head," said Theophraste. "Do you know how
much it will cost, Signer, the head of L'Enfant?
No ? Very well. I am going to tell you, since the
occasion has presented itself, and I am going to
tell you the whole story, which may be profitable
to you."
Then, without any preparation, he related in
the most natural way possible, his existence previ-
ous to his present one.
"My head is worth 20,000 pounds," said he,
"and you know it very well." And as he pro-
nounced these words he struck the table such a
blow that Signor Petito recoiled instinctively.
"Here is the history of it all. I was walking,
two hundred years ago, in the Rue de Vauregard,
with my hands in my pocket, without arms, with-
THE PORTRAIT 89
out even a sword, with the most honest intentions
in the world, when a man met me. He bowed al-
most to the ground, and told me that my face
reminded him so much of some one he knew. He
was called 'Old Man Bidel,' or 'Bidel the Good-
natured,' and he said that he had a secret to con-
fide to me.
I encouraged him by a friendly tap on the
shoulder, and he confided his secret to me. He
whispered in my ear that the Regent had promised
twenty thousand pounds to whoever would arrest
the Enfant, and he knew where the Enfant was hid-
ing. That I looked to him like a man of cour-
age, and that he, with my aid, would do anything
to get the 20,000 pounds. He said that he would
divide the reward.
"The old man Bidel was on the wrong track,
Signer Petito, for I also knew where to find
L'Enfant, seeing that I was that person."
Signer Petito did not wish to believe any of this,
as he could see for himself that M. Longuet had
been out of infancy a good many years. How-
ever, he dared not say anything. Theophraste
continued, "I replied to the old man Bidel, that
it was a happy chance and that I thanked Heaven
for putting him in my path, and I made him con-
duct me to the place where he could find the En-
90 THE DOUBLE LIFE
f ant. He said to me, 'To-night, the Enfant sleeps
at the Capucine, in the Tavern Suite, which bears
as a sign the Cross of the St. Hester.'
"It was true, Signer Petito, the old man Bidel
was very well informed. I congratulated him,
and we passed just then a cutlery shop, and I
bought a small knife, much to the astonishment of
Bidel, who asked me what I planned to do with
such a weapon. I replied to him that with a small
knife like this one could kill a fly, and I plunged
it into his heart. He sank down, raised his arms
wildly for a few moments, and died."
Signer Petito, who at first had moved away
from Theophraste, now rose and ran to the door,
and was glad to get out of sight.
M. Longuet drank his wine, got up and went to
the Bousset Brewery, where Mme. Barth was
standing, making up her books. He said to her,
"Mme. Taconet "
Mme. Barth demanded why he called her Mine.
Taconet, but he disregarded her question, and
continued, "If Signer Petito comes here again,
you will tell him for me that the first time I find
him in my way, I will cut his ears off." Saying
this, Theophraste fondled the handle of his um-
brella as one grasps the handle of a dagger.
THE PORTRAIT 91
There was no doubt about it, he had his black
plume. He had become the Other entirely.
The fog was still thick and he did not think of
breakfasting yet. He walked into the sulphurous
mist like one in a dream. He crossed the whole of
the Quarter of Antin, and that which was formerly
the Avenue L'Enrique, until he came under the
shadows of the towers of Trinity, which he called
the Chateau du Coq. On his arrival at the St.
Lazare, he believed that he was at the Petite
Pologue.
But little by little the fog cleared away, and his
dream disappeared with it. He had the most ex-
act idea of things when he crossed the Point Roy ale,
and by the time he had set foot on the left bank,
he was again the honest Theophraste, and had
only the vaguest idea of that which had happened
on the right bank. But he could remember this,
and when he questioned himself thoroughly, he
began to experience the different conditions or
states of the soul. He discovered in himself three
distinct states. First, that which resulted from
his life as an actuality, the honest merchant;
second, that which resulted from the sudden and
momentary resurrection of the Other; and third,
that which resulted from memory. The recollec-
tion was to him like a third Theophraste, who re-
92 THE DOUBLE LIFE
lated to the first what he had known of the second.
This resurrection of Theophraste's was a terrible
thing.
On crossing the Bridge he hurried beyond the
Rue Guinegaud. He did not care to pass by the
corner of the Rue Mazarin, he knew not why. He
turned the corner by the Hotel Monniare, and al-
most ran into Adolphe, who was waiting for him
there.
"Have you ever heard of a person called
L'Enfant, my dear Adolphe?" he asked.
"Oh, yes, yes," said Aldolphe, "I have heard
of him. I even know his real name, his family
name,"
"Ah, what is it?" anxiously inquired Theo-
phraste.
Adolphe for reply pushed Theophraste into the
hallway of an old house, in the Rue Guinegard, a
few steps from the Hotel de la Monniare. They
climbed a tottering staircase, and entered a room
in which the curtains were drawn. Somebody had
spent the night in the room.
On a little table in the corner, the trembling
flame of a wax candle lit up a portrait. It was
the picture of a man about thirty years of age.
He had a robust figure, high forehead, strong
nose, a smooth chin, and large mouth and mous-
THE PORTRAIT 93
tache. His thick hair was covered by a coarse wool-
en cap, and he wore a coat over a coarse linen shirt,
which appeared to be a prison garb.
"Wait," said Theophraste, without raising his
tone, "how is it that my portrait is in this house?"
"Your picture?" asked Adolphe. "Are you
sure?"
"Who could be more sure of it than I?" said
Theophraste again, without being excited.
"Very well," said M. Lecamus, with emotions
that it would be hard to describe. "That portrait,
which is your portrait, is the portrait of Car-
touche." When M. Lecamus turned to see the
effect his words would produce on his friend, he
saw Theophraste stretched on the floor in a dead
swoon.
For a long time he worked to bring him to. He
blew out the candle and opened the windows, al-
lowing the good air to come in. Theophraste
came to himself, and his first words were,
"Adolphe, above all things do not speak of this to
my wife."
CHAPTER X
Cartouche's Past
THE following day Theophraste and Marceline
returned to the quiet life of the Villa Flots-
d' Azure. Theophraste had not mentioned a word
of the discovery, and his wife refrained from ques-
tioning him. Marceline knew nothing yet of the
terrible discovery. Theophraste's face was full
of consternation, and it was evident to Marceline
that he had terrible things on his mind.
Adolphe was to join them in a few days; two
days passed very quietly in the villa. Marceline
attended to her household duties, and Theophraste
silently prepared his fishing tackle, as he had
promised Adolphe a few days' fishing in the Marne.
On the third day, Theophraste, who had passed
a good night, showed a less agitated countenance,
and began to smile and was cheered at the pros-
pect of Adolphe's coming. M. Lecamus arrived
before noon, and they both received him with de-
light.
94
CARTOUCHE'S PAST 95
Taking their places at lunch their conversation
turned on angling, but nothing was said of the
mysterious proceedings of the week before. After
lunch they prepared for their fishing expedition;
Theophraste took care of the lines, the rods and
the bait, and Adolphe took the nets.
Going down to the water's edge, Theophraste
turned to Adolphe and said, "Tell me, have you
any news ? While we are fishing I will listen to you.
I have prepared a lot of sport, but I don't think
we will do very much to-day, if you have important
news for me."
Adolphe replied, "There is some good, and some
bad news. But I must tell you that there is more
bad than good. No doubt many stories have been
invented about you, but the real truth is not en-
tirely pleasant."
"Are you well informed, and is your informa-
tion authentic?"
"I have been to the very fountain-head, I have
seen the authentic documents. I am going to tell
you what I know. If I am mistaken, correct me."
Theophraste threw his half -prepared bait into
the water, and said, "Go on. I must have a full
explanation."
"First," said Adolphe, "you were born in the
96 THE DOUBLE LIFE
month of October, 1693. You were called Louis
Dominique Cartouche."
"But it is needless to call me Cartouche, no one
need know that. Call me L'Enf ant. I like it much
better and no one will understand."
"Yes," insisted Adolphe, "but you know that
your name is Cartouche. It is not an assumed
name. It is said that you studied hard in Cler-
mont College. That you were the schoolfellow
of Voltaire, and there is a legend that while you
learned to read, in the course of time, thanks to
the gypsies who taught you reading, you were
never able to write."
"Well, that's funny," cried Theophraste, "for
if I never learned to write, how could I have drawn
up the document in the dungeon of the Concier-
gerie ?"
"At the time of your trial, you declared that
you did not know how to write. You signed your
depositions with a cross and you have never
written a line to show who it was."
"But," Theophraste said, "it was never neces-
sary to write. In my position I should have
dreaded to compromise myself. But the document
is there."
"Evidently. Let us return to your eleventh
year. One day you were in the Saint Laurent
CARTOUCHE'S PAST 97
Faire, with some comrades, when you fell in with
a band of gypsies. The gypsies carried you away.
They stole you. They taught you the play of
the cudgel, the sword, to shoot a pistol, to jump,
and to rob the pockets of the bourgeoisie without
being discovered. At your twelfth year you were
an adept at this, and without an equal for bring-
ing back handkerchiefs, snuff boxes, and watches.
The band of gypsies found themselves at Rouen,
when little Louis Dominique fell ill. He was taken
to a hospital in Rouen, and it was there that an
uncle discovered him. He recognized him, and
swore to restore him to his parents."
Here Theophraste interrupted with a word as
to his uncle, and Lecamus becoming impatient,
begged him to cease his continual interruptions,
declaring it would take some time to tell the story
of Cartouche if he would not listen to it silently.
"I would like to see you in my place," said Theo-
phraste.
Adolphe continued: "In a while Cartouche be-
came the chief of a band of brigands. He com-
manded about three thousand men, had more than
fifty lieutenants; it was their habit to dress ex-
actly alike, in cinnamon-colored coats, and doub-
lets of silk and amaranthine, showing a piece of
black taffeta underneath the left eye. They
98 THE DOUBLE LIFE
brought against him more than one hundred and
fifty personal assassinations, and put a price upon
his head. He was tried and broken on the wheel."
"Upon hearing this Theophraste showed evident
signs of alarm. He dropped his fishing tackle,
losing it in the swift current of the river. He
could not give his mind to fishing any more that
day, and so they resolved to give up the attempt.
They did not wait for sundown, to return to the
Villa Flots-d' Azure. Swinging their meagre spoils
lightly in their nets they sadly retraced their steps.
Cartouche filled their minds, and their return jour-
ney was occupied in thoughts of this dual person-
ality.
CHAPTER XI
Signor Petito Appears
WHILE waiting for the stage from Crecy to
stop for them, they called at the wayside
inn, and had some refreshment, while Adolphe took
up the story of L'Enf ant at the point where he
had left off.
"That good uncle," said he, "had fellow-feeling
for one of his family, and he rescued young Car-
touche from his miserable lot and made him return
to his parents. His father was a cooper by trade,
and young Louis, having profited by his youthful
misfortunes, swore that henceforth he would be a
good son and a diligent apprentice. He helped
his father to make casks, working from day-
break to sunset.
"He was frequently seen, during lunch hour,
amusing his companions with pretty tricks of
sleight-of-hand which he had learned during the
few months he had been with the gypsies. He had
99
100 THE DOUBLE LIFE
become so adept at this science that on special oc-
casions little Louis and his family were invited to
dinners and suppers before friends, for they looked
forward to the enjoyment of these tricks of Louis',
and he became a great success in the quarter, and
he, on his part, was proud of his growing renown.
"In the meantime he had attained that happy
period where the least sensitive of human beings
feel the beating of their hearts awaken to the most
tender sentiments. Louis Dominique was in love.
The object of his affections was a charming needle-
woman of the Rue Porte Foin, coquettish, with
blue eyes, golden hair, and a fine figure. I have
said that this needlewoman was a coquette. She
loved dress, jewels and laces, and it was her desire
always to be better clothed than her companions.
The modest income of Louis Dominique did not
permit of his paying for the extravagant fancies
of his poor seamstress, and so Cartouche stole
from his father. The latter soon found out and
took steps by which he could have his boy placed
in the Convent of the Lazaretto, in the Faubourg
St. Denis."
"Ah," said Theophraste, "instead of combat-
ing with kindness the wickedness of this child, they
drive him to despair by incarcerating him where he
only meets with bad examples, and where the feel-
SIGNOR PETITO APPEARS 101
ing of revolt increases, and boils over, stifling all
other feelings in his inexperienced mind. I wager
that if they had not put Louis in the House of
Correction, that all the trouble would never have
happened."
"Reassure yourself," said Adolphe. "Cartouche
was never shut up in the Convent of the Lazaretto,
for while his father had discovered this crime of
Louis', he did not tell him of it; but one Sunday
morning, he asked his son to take a walk with him.
Dominique readily acquiesced, and they were soon
seen walking down the street together.
" 'Where are we going, father ?' asked Louis.
'No matter where. By way of the Faubourg St.
Denis.' Louis pricked up his ears. He knew that
at the end of the Faubourg St. Denis was the
Lazaretto, and he also knew that sometimes
fathers escorted their boys to the Lazaretto.
"He at once felt suspicious, for his conscience
was not altogether tranquil, and when they ar-
rived at the corner of the Faubourg St. Denis, and
the battlement of the St. Lazaretto rose before
them, it seemed to him that his father looked un-
natural, and he felt uncomfortable at once. He
told his father to continue his walk, slowly, with-
out hurrying, as he wished to stop at the corner.
102 THE DOUBLE LIFE
When his father returned, the son had disap-
peared, and he never saw him again."
About this time the coach had arrived, and
Adolphe discontinued his tale while they mounted
to the top. Theophraste recognized M. Bache,
and Mme. Fronde, and he at once bowed to them,
but they did not respond. He called them by
name, but they remained mute. Theophraste
could not understand this, and turned to ask
Adolphe what he thought of it, and why they did
not recognize him.
"That does not astonish me at all," said
Adolphe. "It is no wonder to me, since the dinner
the other day, that nobody bows to you. Your
extraordinary behavior was enough to upset them
all. Do you not remember how you were mounted
on the table and sang that vulgar song? There
were some young ladies present, Miles. Froude and
Tabouret."
"Ah," said Theophraste, "that accounts for
Mme. Bache's pretending not to see me the other
day in Paris, when she called at the Pharmacy
Crecy and I happened to meet her there. Never
mind, Adolphe, continue where you left off about
my father. What happened to him?"
"Well, you forgot about your seamstress at the
Rue Point Foin, and you thought of her no more.
SIGNOR PETITO APPEARS 103
She worried over your disappearance about a fort-
night, and then got somebody else, as is done un-
der similar circumstances to-day. The necessity
to make your way in the world recalled your old
talents, and soon you were robbing passers-by of
the things in their pockets. You operated so
adroitly, that you incurred the admiration of a
great sharper, who having seen you work, stopped
you at the corner of the Rue Gallaud, and de-
manded of you your money or your life. 'You
shall have my purse only when you have my life,'
said you to him, and you drew your sword, a
small sword that you had taken the day before
from a French Guardsman. The great sharper
flattered you upon your courage, and then upon
your dexterity, and he begged you to accompany
him home to the Rue Bout du Monde. He told
you on the way that he sought an associate, and
you could do the business. He also told you that
he had a wife, and the wife had a very pretty
sister. After a while you married this sister,
though neither notary nor priest was sent for.
The attachment did not last over six months, be-
cause the sharper, his wife, and his sister-in-law
were sent to the gallows. You had already left
them by this time, and had joined the army. You
were caught one day, drunk, by a recruiting
104. THE DOUBLE LIFE
officer, and he took you to the barracks, and made
you sign on."
By this time it was seven o'clock, and Adolphe
interrupted the course of his recital at that point,
as they had to alight from the coach.
"Tell me," said Theophraste, "I am curious to
know how I was built. Was I a handsome man,
a tall man?"
"They represent you thus at the theater, in M.
d'Ennury's play, but on the contrary, according
to the poet Granvel, you were a conceited man,
and always fond of singing your own praises.
You were dark, lean, small, but of great courage.
You were enterprising and bold,, and very alert."
"You have not told me," said Theophraste,
"how you got that picture in the house on the
Rue Guinegaud."
"It is a copy of a photograph by Nedar. He
photographed a wax mask, which ought to re-
semble you, as that mask was made from your face
by the order of the Regent. Nedar photographed
that mask in 1859. The mask was found in the
Chateau de St. Germain."
"Oh! I want to see it," cried Theophraste "to
touch it. We must go to St. Germain to-morrow."
By this time they had reached the house, and
SIGNOR PETITO APPEARS 105
Marceline, in neat dishabille, smilingly opened the
door and greeted them.
Theophraste had a great desire to see and touch
that waxen mask that had been made from his
face, and the desire was still greater when Adolphe
entered into the details of it. He told him that
it had been in the Chateau de St. Germain en
Laye, since the 24th of April, 1849.
"It appears that the portrait was given by an
abbot, one Viallier, to be inherited by one Richot,
an old officer of the Hussars of King Louis XVI.
M. Richot died at St. Germain. He owned the
portrait for many years, one most precious,
especially as it had belonged to the royal family.
The wax mask was moulded by a Florentine artist
some days before Cartouche's punishment. The
head-dress was a woolen or coarse felt cap, his
clothing was a shirt of very coarse linen, a waist-
coat, and another vest, and a doublet of black
camelot. But the most remarkable thing of all
was that Cartouche's hair was cut off of his corpse
and pasted on the waxen mask. The whole was
shut up in a gilded wooden chest, large and deep,
of beautiful workmanship. A Venetian glass pro-
tected the portrait, and one could still see the
escutcheon of the arms of France on the chest."
Theophraste asked Adolphe where he had found
106 THE DOUBLE LIFE
such precise details, and was told that they were
the result of two days' searching in the forgotten
archives of the most noted libraries and museums
of Paris. There he found his hair, his moustache,
and his clothes, two hundred years old.
In spite of the horror which these relics of a
man so monstrous ought to have inspired in him,
Theophraste could not control his impatience to
see them, to touch them. Here was Theophraste
Longuet, whose name was synonymous with honor,
who had always' feared the shedding of blood,
cherishing in his heart the coarse remains of the
greatest brigand on earth. When he had again
command of his senses, he did not find in the bot-
tom of his soul a feeling of absolute despair, but
of great pity, a pity so keenly felt that he did not
weep only for himself, Theophraste, but also
moved him to pity Cartouche. He asked himself
which was the more dominant, honest Theo-
phraste, carrying with him the brigand Car-
touche, or the brigand Cartouche, shut up within
honest Theophraste. "It is necessary that we
should understand each other," he said aloud. He
felt that he should not have uttered that sentence
which must have seemed odd, but which expressed
so well the double and yet unique preoccupation of
his soul that he could not restrain himself. A great
SIGNOR PETITO APPEARS 107
light dawned upon him at the same time, that
recalled the theory of reincarnation that had been
explained to him by M. Lecamus. He connected
reincarnation with the natural evolution of things,
and of individuals, that which was no other than
transformation. "Does it not point to the fact
that souls reincarnate themselves in order to pass
according to natural law to advancement to a bet-
ter state? It is the progressive step of being.
Well, the natural law which certain persons call
God, did not find anything better on the earth
than the body of Theophraste Longuet through
which to make the criminal soul of Cartouche
evolve to a better state."
When that idea got a firm hold on him, in place
of the deepest despair, which had led him to faint,
he found himself prompted by a sentiment almost
akin to pride. He was entrusted with the destiny
of the world. He, the humble but honest Theo-
phraste, entrusted with the regeneration in ideal
splendor, of the soul of shadows and of the bloody
Louis Dominique Cartouche, called L'Enfant. He
accepted this unexpected task willingly, since he
could not do otherwise, and he put himself at once
on his guard. Instead of saying, "It is necessary
for us to understand each other," he immediately
ordered Cartouche to obey Theophraste, and he
108 THE DOUBLE LIFE
promised himself to lead him a life so hard that he
could not say without smiling, "Poor Cartouche."
He had charged M. Lecamus to write everything
possible about Louis Dominique Cartouche in such
a way that he could not be ignorant of anything
that could be known of his life. With that and
with what his black feather and his memory had
taught him, he justly thought he could resist in
spirit the Other One, which would allow him to
act accordingly. He partly confided his reflec-
tions to Adolphe, who approved of them, but
warned him against a tendency he had to separate
Theophraste from Cartouche.
"You must not forget," said he, "that they are
one. You have the instincts of the gardeners of
the Ferte-sous-Jonarre. Those instincts are good,
but you have the soul of Cartouche, which is detest-
able. Take care. You are his declared enemy,
the question is raised as to who will vanquish
the soul of former years, or the instincts of to-
day."
Theophraste asked Adolphe if the soul of Car-
touche was really altogether detestable, and was
happy to learn that it had some good points.
Adolphe said that Cartouche had expressly for-
bidden to kill or even wound passers-by without
cause. When he operated in Paris with some of his
SIGNOR PETITO APPEARS 109
bands, and they brought victims to him, he spoke
to them with so much politeness and kindness, that
they always returned a part of the booty to him.
Sometimes they would limit matters to a simple ex-
change of clothes. When he found letters or pic-
tures in the pockets of the coats thus exchanged, he
ran after the ex-proprietors to return them. It
was a maxim of that extraordinary individual,
that a man ought not to be robbed twice in the
same night, nor were they to be too severely
treated, so as not to prevent the Parisians from
going out in the evening. Therefore he ordered
his men to take the utmost care not to kill any one
without good reason. At this time the man was
not yet thoroughly wicked. Up to then he had
always had a reason for every act. It is to be
regretted, however, that he had had one hundred
and fifty reasons to assassinate.
Let us return to the wax mask.
Theophraste and Adolphe were going down the
stairs in the station of St. Germain-en-Laye, when
suddenly Theophraste thought he saw a familiar
figure ahead of him, among a group of travelers.
Moved by a feeling over which he had no control,
he ran rapidly towards the group, but the figure
had disappeared. Where had he seen that figure
before? It was so repulsive to him. Adolphe
110 THE DOUBLE LIFE
asked him the cause of his agitation, and he re-
covered himself at once.
"I would swear," said Theophraste, "that it was
Signer Petito, the Italian professor of the floor
below. What did Signor Petito come to St. Ger-
main for? I do not want to run foul of him."
"Well, what has he done, then?" asked Adolphe.
"Oh, nothing. Only if he runs across my way,
I swear I will cut off his ears, and you know I will
do it if I say so."
They then went, without any more thought of
Signor Petito, to the castle. They entered the
Museum, and asked to see the wax mask of Car-
touche. Theophraste became enraged when he
learned that it was not to be found there, and in
his excitement he poked the handle of his green
umbrella into the eye of a plaster cast of a mem-
ber of the Legion of Honor. An old guard came
up and told him that he knew well there had been
a wax mask of Cartouche in St. Germain, and that
it could be found, he thought, in the library. But
the latter had been closed up for eight days for
repairs. Theophraste gave that man a franc, and
they turned their steps toward the terrace, prom-
ising themselves to come again at a later time, for
the farther the wax mask seemed away, the more
Theophraste burned to touch it.
SIGNOR PETITO APPEARS 111
It was a beautiful day, and they walked to-
gether in the forest, in the magnificent walk which
led to the battlements of the Loge, which were con-
structed in front of the Castle Germain, by Queen
Anne of Austria.
As they reached the south angle of the ram-
parts, it seemed that Theophraste recognized again,
gliding in a thicket, the repulsive form of Signer
Petito.
Adolphe insisted that he was mistaken.
CHAPTER XII
Theophraste's Memory Is Refreshed
THEY wandered down to the lawns at the foot
of the ramparts, and walking across the
green grass, they stopped at the foot of a forked
tree. They were seated chatting for some time,
when suddenly Theophraste's face seemed to light
up as if he recalled something. It seemed as if
his memory had suddenly become awakened to
events of years ago. His whole soul was filled with
sweet memories, like the tenderest recollections of
youthful days returning, after having been for-
gotten for a long time. In his mind he saw per-
fectly the spirit of Cartouche, as if he had never
been separated from him by two hundred years.
It seemed to come suddenly to him, and as the
events came back to him, he related them to
Adolphe, in the following words :
"Adolphe, my friend, I must tell you that at
that time my fortune was complete. I was dreaded
113
A MEMORY REFRESHED 113
and yet liked by all. I was even liked by my
victims. I despoiled them so gallantly that they
went their way along through the city singing
my praises. I had not yet been attacked by that
wonderful sanguinary instinct which some months
later made me commit the most atrocious crimes.
Everything prospered with me ; everybody feared
me and loved me. I was happy, merry, of a mag-
nificent audacity, gallant in love, and the ruler of
Paris. They said that I was the greatest of all
robbers ; that was only half true, because it was
imperative that I should partake of the sover-
eignty with M. Law, the Controller-General of
Finance. My glory was at its zenith; for often
he and his people paid me tribute. But he im-
agined he might excite the Regent against me.
One evening when I had stolen into his room in his
hotel, disguised as a lackey to Lord Dermott, the
Regent sent for Monsieur d'Argenson, keeper of
the seals, and told him that he had eight hours
in which to arrest me. M. d'Argenson promised
everything he wanted, provided they let him go by
the way of the Convent of the Madeline du Frainel,
where his mistress. Mile. Husson, had taken
refuge. Eight hours later, M. d'Argenson was
still at the Convent with Mile. Husson. As for
me, my dear Adolphe, during that time, I attended
114. THE DOUBLE LIFE
to my small affairs, and I commanded without
any trouble three thousand men. It was the month
of September, the nights were beautiful and clear,
and we profited by this to get into the house of the
Spanish Ambassador, who lived in the old hotel of
the Marshal d'Aucre, in the Rue de Fournon, the
same house even which has since been occupied by
the Guard de Paris. We entered his wife's bed-
room and took possession of all her dresses, of a
buckle ornament with twenty-seven large dia-
monds, a necklace of very fine pearls, six plates,
six table sets, six knives and ten coral goblets.
We rolled it all up in a table cloth, and went to
supper at the house of the Belle Helene, who kept
what you called the Inn of the Harp in the Rue de
la Harp.
"Oh, Adolphe, what a wonderful thing memory
is! Truly I do not know why I said that you
called it the Inn of the Harp, unless in my mind
you are representing a friend whom I had, who
was as good as you, and whom I loved as well as you,
whose name was Va-de-Bon Coeur. By the Thunder
of the Breast, but he was a handsome young
fellow ! He was a sergeant of the French Guards,
and he was my lieutenant. I must tell you, my
dear Adolphe, that I commanded a considerable
number of French Guardsmen. At the time of my
A MEMORY REFRESHED 115
arrest, one hundred and fifty non-commissioned
officers, soldiers of the French Guard, hid them-
selves, and disappeared over to the colonies. They
dreaded lest I should compromise them. They
were wrong, however, for torture could not make
me speak. However, let me leave those melancholy
moments, and come back to the beautiful Septem-
ber nights. We will proceed to the time when it
was customary for the Parisians to take up their
new abodes. The Regent showed still more anger
against me and M. d'Argenson, when he learned
about the escapade against the Spanish Ambassa-
dor. Imagine his fury as I turned my attentions
to him. Va-de-Bon Cceur, being on guard at the
Palais Royal, carried off two vermilion flambeaux,
which the Duke of Orleans prized very highly.
The Regent was so afraid of being robbed that
instead of wearing silver-faced buckles and sword
handles, he resolved to substitute carved steel.
On the first day that he carried one of that kind, I,
Cartouche, stole it from him as he was leaving
the opera house. The next day I sent it back to
him in pieces, and I taunted him about his ap-
parent avarice, and upbraided him, that he, the
greatest man in France, should wish to deprive
his unfortunate confreres, the silversmiths, of a
livelihood.
116 THE DOUBLE LIFE
"He answered me publicly by proclaiming that
he was very anxious to know me, and that he would
give from his own pocket 20,000 pounds to who-
ever would bring Cartouche to him. The next day,
as he walked to Saint Germain and was breakfast-
ing in the castle, he found under his napkin a
message of which you will readily see the sense:
'My lord, you can see me for nothing. It may be
to-night, at midnight, behind the Anne of Austria
Wall in the forest, where Cartouche will expect
you. You are brave. Come alone. If you come
accompanied, you run the danger of death.'
"At midnight, I awaited the Regent; twelve
o'clock was still sounding in the Loges, when the
Regent appeared. The moonlight made the forest
seem like fairyland enchanted, such as one sees
at the theater. The forest, a marvelous, trans-
parent blue, seemed bereft of all its branches, of
all its foliage, of all its thickets.
" 'Behold me, Cartouche,' said the prince ; 4 I
come to you armed with my sword alone, as you
have wished. I run perhaps the greatest danger,'
he said in a clear, derisive voice, 'but who would
not risk everything to see at close range at mid-
night, in the heart of the forest, the form of Car-
touche, when it costs nothing?' Oh, Adolphe, my
friend, that thou couldst have been there to hear
A MEMORY REFRESHED 117
me respond to the Regent of France ! To be sure,
I am only the son of a poor cooper of the Rue du
Pontaux-Choux, but what Conde, what Mont-
morency could have bowed with more grace, sweep-
ing the wet grass with the plume of his hat? The
Duke de Richelieu himself could not kneel more
elegantly than I did, nor present in a more gra-
cious manner to my lord the purse that I had taken
from his pocket. 'I am,' said I, 'the most humble
servant of my lord, and I beg him to take back
from Cartouche this purse that I had the audac-
ity to steal with so much coolness, only to prove
to my lord that his highness finds himself face to
face with Cartouche.' The Regent begged me to
preserve that purse for a remembrance of him.
He was wrong to relate, in the course of time, this
anecdote; for the report was spread that he was
one of my band. I believe that he had started to
go away, when he put his arm in mine and dragged
me as far to the right as we are sitting to-day.
"Then the regent did me the honor to put his
arm in mine, and I saw that he had something of
a secret nature to confide to me. He did not wait*
to acknowledge that he counted upon my ingenuity
to avenge him for an offense that Monsieur the
Controller-General had committed against him.
He told me that he was quite in love with the
118 THE DOUBLE LIFE
courtesan, Emily; that she was his mistress, and
had been for fifteen days, and that he had learned
from La Fillon that M. Law had the promise of
her favors the next night against the present that
he would make her of a ten-thousand-louis neck-
lace. He was sure of it, for La Fillon was never
mistaken. Was it not from her that he had had
a hint of the Cellamore conspiracy? All the
rogues of Paris knew La Fillon.
"La Fillon is a woman of five feet ten inches,
who was admirably formed, a ravishingly beauti-
ful face. From the age of fifteen years, that
model beauty thought that Nature had not pro-
vided such rare treasures to be hidden, so she lav-
ished them. The Duke d'Orleans, a long time be-
fore the regency, loved her. He remained smitten
with her for more than a year. It was for her
that he had constructed, in a retired part of the
gardens of Saint Germain, a sort of grotto,
lighted mysteriously by several rays directed upon
a bed of mats, upon which his mistress stretched
herself, clothed in her blonde hair only. He
showed them to all who passed that way, and in
that way he made numerous friends. But the fif-
teen years of La Fillon flew away in happy days.
Now she had no longer the enjoyment of intrigue,
of which she has made two parts gallantry and
A MEMORY REFRESHED 119
observation. So she furnished some important
information to the police and to M. d'Argenson,
guard of the seals, and some remarkable subjects
for the amours of the Regent. It was she who
procured Emily for him, who is by far the prettiest
girl in Paris. Everybody wanted to steal her from
him. Law, who was the richest, swore to succeed
there. The bargain was concluded for the next
night.
" 'Cartouche,' the Regent said to me, after hav-
ing explained his small affairs to me, 'thou art a
brave man. I give thee the necklace.'
''And he went away in the moonlight, giving me
a slight wave of the hand. This kind of mission
that I received to thwart the loves of the Super-
intendent, and avenge those of the Duke of
Orleans, filled me with pride.
"Being back in Paris, I learned near the morn-
ing, through my police (which was the best in-
formation of the epoch), that the courtesan Emily
lived at a small hotel in the Mardis, at the corner
of the Rue Barbette and of the Trois-Pavillons,
and that the Regent showed more attachment for
her than he had ever for the Duchess of Berry,
with whom he was disgusted long since for La
Baratere, who shut herself up in the Convent of
Chelles, less on account of her love for God than
120 THE DOUBLE LIFE
for her liking for the beautiful nuns (what morals,
my dear Adolphe, what morals !) , and it consoled
her that she had recently been mistaken for Mile,
de Valois, uniquely occupied with the Duke de
Richelieu. This courtesan, Emily, was no more than
an opera girl, but her beauty, as I have told you,
surpassed all that one can imagine I was not
long in judging for myself.
"Twenty-four hours after the interview of Saint
Germain, that is to say the midnight following, I
went out with a placard describing exactly the
angle of the Rue des Trois-Pavillons and the Rue
Barbette. I had, as if by chance, a pistol in each
hand, which made it impossible for me to decently
bow to Mile. Emily, who appeared, considering the
hour, in the most polite dishabille, with the Super-
intendent, who presented a casket to her in which
there shone the gems of a necklace, which was
valued at the least at ten thousand louis. I ex-
cused myself for the necessity of keeping my hat
on my head, and begged Monsieur, the Superin-
tendent, seeing the encumbrance of my hands, to
close the casket on the necklace, and to put the
whole thing in the pocket of my cinnamon coat,
promising my gratitude or recognition for this
slight service.
"As he hesitated, I proceeded with my presenta-
A MEMORY REFRESHED
tion, and when he knew that my name was Car-
touche, he obeyed with alacrity.
"I begged Mile. Emily to reassure herself, de-
claring that she was in no danger, of which she
was convinced, for she began to laugh heartily
at the discomfiture of M. Law. I laughed also.
I said to M. Law that his necklace was worth 10,-
000 louis, but if he wished to send the next day,
I towards five o'clock in the afternoon, a confidence
man to the corner of the Rue Vaugirard and of
the Rue des Fosses Monsieur le Prince, with five
thousand louis, they would return the collar, on
the word of honor of Cartouche. He replied to me
that the bargain was concluded and we took leave
of each other.
"Two days later some one related the adventure
to the Regent, who was at first overjoyed, but
whose face changed when he learned the culmina-
tion of the event. The man, Law, had given the
five thousand louis as was arranged, to the man,
Cartouche, and he expected the jewel box, when
the other told him that Cartouche had already
gone to carry it himself to Mile. Emily. Law ran
to the house of the courtesan, saw the necklace and
demanded the price.
" 'It is already received,' replied Emily, turning
her back on him.
THE DOUBLE LIFE
" 'And by whom ?' exclaimed M* le Superin-
tendent.
" 'Evidently by the one who brought me the
necklace by Cartouche, who has just left here.
Should I not pay upon receipt of the necklace?
And immediately? I have no credit, myself,' added
she, shouting over the discomfited face of the man
of the Rue Quincamprix.
"At the Palais Royal, my dear Adolphe, the jest
had the success that you can imagine. It did not
matter, the Regent had found out that I had sur-
passed his instructions, and in his anger he again
sent M. d'Argenson to hunt for me. He, however,
was again diverted by the attractions of Mile.
Husson. It was a fact, my dear Adolphe, that
women were a source of great help to me, and I
leaned towards them considerably. But they con-
tributed much to my ruin, also. Knowing of the
propriety of my manners, and of my exclusive love
for Marceline, you must think how two hundred
years changes a man."
Elated at his narrative, Adolphe laughed at the
pleasantry which terminated it. "How two hun-
dred years changes a man !" M. Longuet laughed
at it. The supernatural and terrifying antithe-
sis between Cartouche and Longuet, which had
plunged him at first into the most melancholy
A MEMORY REFRESHED
fright, now incited him to make jests. His excuse
was that he did not see anything to fear. He only
found his case a little odd. He joked about it
with Adolphe, and even resolved to no longer keep
his true personality from Marceline. She was in-
telligent and would understand. He imagined that
this personality would present dangers to himself
and to society, but, behold ! it existed no longer in
the real condition, but only in his memory, as a
vivid picture. He would not have to control Car-
touche as he had dreaded; he would only have to
ask him from time to time, some anecdote, which
would help M. Longuet in conversation. The his-
tory of the Regent, M. Law, and of the courtesan,
were sure proofs of that condition of the soul.
How it had glided from his memory without effort !
What evil, then, was there in that? After all, if he
had been Cartouche, it was not his fault, and it
would be very foolish in him to be angry about it.
He even joked about the fortune.
At midnight they made their way back to Paris.
As they arrived at the station St. Lazare, M.
Lecamus asked him the following question :
"My friend, when you are Cartouche, and you
take your walks in Paris, and you see the life of
Paris, what astonishes you most? Is it the tele-
THE DOUBLE LIFE
phone, or the railway, or the Mitro, or the Eiffel
Tower?"
Theophraste replied, "No, no. That which
astonishes me most when I am Cartouche is the
police force."
CHAPTER XIII
The Cat
IT seems that the destiny which controls the lives
of men, takes a diabolical pleasure in preced-
ing the worst catastrophe by the serenest of joys.
Thus is it often that we are warned of the tempest
by the calm.
Thus in the beginning of the misfortunes of
Theophraste, Marceline and Adolphe, there was
something which was not of very great importance
in itself the strange behavior of a small black
cat.
I have not yet described in detail the apartment
occupied by the household of Longuet in the Rue
Geronde. It is now necessary to do so. It was a
small apartment, rented for twelve hundred francs
a year, on passing through the folding-doors of
which one entered a vestibule of restricted dimen-
sions, all the furniture of which consisted of a
polished oak trunk, which seemed to fill the whole
125
126 THE DOUBLE LIFE
vestibule. Besides the front door, four doors
opened into the vestibule : the kitchen door, the din-
ing-room door, to the left; the parlor door, and
that of the bedroom, on the right. The parlor and
bedroom windows looked out into the street, and
those of the kitchen and dining-room looked out
into the court. The window of the little room in
which M. Longuet had made his office, opened on
the street also. This room was between the bed-
room and the dining-room, and could be entered
by doors from either of these. As to the furni-
ture in this apartment, that in the office is all that
need be described. There was a small desk against
the wall.
These great misfortunes of Theophraste, Mar-
celine and Adolphe centered around something
which was not of great importance in itself : it was
only an ornament in the form of a small black cat,
which was placed over the patent lock with which
the small desk was fastened, thus hiding it.
This little black cat was nothing more than an
ingenious silken cushion, which served the double
purpose of pin-cushion and pen-wiper. There was
also a tea-table in this room.
Upon returning from their trip, Adolphe ac-
companied Theophraste up the stairway, and as it
was late he announced his intention of leaving at
THE CAT 127
once. He ordered his friend to go to bed so that
he might get up early the next day to make fur-
ther researches. He shook his hand with a show
of sincerity, and as he went downstairs, looked up
to Theophraste, who was holding the lamp for him,
and murmured, "Good-bye, till to-morrow."
Theophraste closed the door of the apartment
with the greatest care, and as he made the second
turn to the latch, he said to Marceline, "Now that
we are very often in the country, we ought to have
extra bolts for safety."
Theophraste and Marceline searched the apart-
ment before going to bed. They went into the
kitchen, into the dining-room, into the parlor, and
into the office. Nothing unusual had happened
during their absence. Everything was in its usual
place.
Having gone to bed, Theophraste lay awake for
some time. He amused himself by thinking of
Cartouche and all the wonderful things he had
done. While he tried to fall asleep, his mind kept
continually going back to the same theme. Sud-
denly he opened his frightened eyes in the dark-
ness, and laid his hand on his wife's arm, waking
her. Then, in a voice so low that he alone knew
he had spoken, he said, "Do you hear anything?"
Marceline woke with a start, and they both
128 THE DOUBLE LIFE
strained their ears. They heard something in the
apartment. It was a peculiar sound like the pur-
ring of a cat. It seemed as if it came from the
office, and they listened intently for some minutes,
too frightened to move.
Theophraste, as we have said before, was not a
brave man, and he would have given a hundred
thousand francs for it to have been daylight.
Marceline whispered in his ear, "Go and see what is
the matter. You must, Theophraste. Take the
revolver from the table drawer." Theophraste
just had the strength to answer, "You know very
well it is not loaded."
They listened again, but the noise had stopped.
Marceline hoped that they had been mistaken.
Theophraste, quaking with fear, then got out of
the bed, and taking the revolver, softly opened the
door which led into the office.
The night was clear, and the moon shone across
the large blue table-cloth which was spread on the
table. Theophraste recoiled. He pushed the door
to by pressing his back against it, as if he would
hinder whatever he had seen from entering the
room. "What is it ?" demanded Marceline, raising
herself from the pillows. Theophraste, with chat-
tering teeth, answered, "It does not purr any
more, but it has moved. It is on the tea-table."
THE CAT 129
"What is on the tea-table?"
"The cat!"
"Are you sure it was in its right place last
night ?" asked Marceline.
"Perfectly sure. I put my scarf-pin on it when
I was going to bed."
"Oh, you only think that you did it," said Mar-
celine. "Shall I light the lamp?"
"No, no. We can escape in the darkness. If
I open the door on the landing we can call the
conciergerie."
"You are not afraid, then?" asked Marceline,
who, now that she heard it was the cat, was re-
covering her senses. "It was an illusion that we
had. You must have changed his place last
night."
"After all it is very possible," said Theophraste.
He only wanted to get back to bed.
"Put it in its place," insisted Marceline. Theo-
phraste decided to do so. He went into the office,
and with a hasty, trembling hand took the cat
from the tea-table and put it on the desk, and soon
found himself back in bed. By this time they had
recovered their composure.
They even smiled in the darkness to think that
they had been afraid. However, a quarter of an
hour elapsed, and they were frightened to hear
130 THE DOUBLE LIFE
again the rattle of the ornament. "Oh, it is not
possible," cried Marceline; "we are the victims of
hallucination. There is nothing to astonish us
after what has happened at the Conciergerie."
It was Marceline who got up this time. She
pulled open the door of the office, and came back
at once towards Theophraste, and said with a
voice so weak that it seemed far away, "You did
not, then, put the cat back on the desk?"
"But I did," growled Theophraste.
"Well, but it is back on the tea-table."
"My God !" said the man hiding his head under
the coverings.
Marceline was convinced that, in the disordered
condition of his mind, he had left the cat on the
tea-table. She took it, holding her breath, and
put it on the table. The cat rattled audibly again
as she did it, but neither Marceline nor Theo-
phraste saw anything in this. Marceline went
back to bed again.
Another quarter of an hour passed, at the end
of which they again heard the same noise. Then
an incredible thing happened. Theophraste
turned like a tiger and cried out, "What is it? It
is only too true, something unusual is happening."
CHAPTER XIV
Petlto Loses His Ears
WE will now go downstairs to the flat below,
into the apartment occupied by Signer
and Signora Petito. Signora Petito is saying, "I
do not understand M. Longuet's conduct at the
dinner at all. He spoke such vague, peculiar
words."
"Well," answers Signer Petito, "he has this
treasure which may be found in the environs of
Paris, and he is thinking of it. It is certainly
very interesting, and I would like to find it myself.
According to the document, my opinion is that one
ought to look either at the side of Montrouge, or
at the side of Montmartre. I am inclined to think
that it is Montmartre, on acount of the 'Coq.'
There was a castle 4 Coq de Percherons* there.
You will find it if you look at this plan of old
Paris."
They looked at the plan, and after a short
131
THE DOUBLE LIFE
silence Signor Petito added, "It is still very vague.
For myself, I think that one ought to attach im-
portance to the words 'Le Four.' "
"My dear, then it is more and more vague,"
said his wife, "for there are many furnaces around
Paris. There were plaster furnaces, and quick-
lime furnaces, and many others."
"My idea," said Signor Petito, "is that Le Four
does not mean 'the furnaces.' I remember that
there was a space after the word 'Four,' on the
paper. Pass my dictionary." Signora Petito,
noiselessly, and with great care, brought him the
lexicon. They looked over all the words begin-
ning with the syllable 'Four.' On account of the
article, le, they decided not to pay any attention
to feminine words.
Just then the clock on the mantel-shelf struck
midnight. Signora Petito got up, and said to the
Signor, "Now is the time. We will find some use-
ful information on the floor above. They cannot
hear you in your stockinged feet. I will watch
behind their door at the head of their stairway.
You know there is no danger, they are still in the
country."
Two minutes later a form glided over the land-
ing at M. Longuet's door, put a key into the lock
stealthily, and went into the vestibule. M. Lon-
PETITO LOSES HIS EARS 133
guct's apartment was arranged exactly like Sig-
ner Petito's, and so the latter easily found his way
into the dining-room. He acted with perfect com-
posure, believing the apartment to be uninhabited.
He pushed the office door open. As it was evident-
ly the lock of the desk that he wished to reach.
Signer Petito took the ornament which incon-
venienced him and placed it on the tea-table. Then
he quitted the room noiselessly, and entered the
dining-room, from there into the vestibule, for he
seemed to hear a voice on the stairway. He was
without doubt mistaken, for he listened intently
for some time without hearing a sound. When he
came back into the office, he found the cat again on
the desk, and purring. His hair seemed to stand
on end, for the horror which had seized upon him
was not to be compared to the horror which had
seized upon those in the next room.
Signer Petito remained immovable in the bluish
moonlight. With a timid hand he seized the little
black cat. The movement caused by this made the
cat purr again. Now he understood that in the
cat's pasteboard body there was a little ball, bal-
anced in such a manner that it ingeniously simu-
lated the purring of a cat when it was moved.
How frightened he had been ! He felt a fool.
All was explained. Did he not remove the cat be-
134 THE DOUBLE LIFE
fore returning to the vestibule? Instead of hav-
ing placed the cat on the table, as he thought, he
must have replaced it on the desk. That was a
simple explanation, and he paid the strictest atten-
tion this time when he placed it on the table.
While he was doing this there was a fresh noise
on the stairway. It was only Signora Petito, who
had very incautiously sneezed.
Signer Petito went hurriedly and silently back
into the vestibule, and when he was reassured, went
back into the office again.
The black cat had been returned to the desk
again !
He thought that he would die of fright. A
miraculous intervention had arrested him on
the verge of a great crime, and he uttered a hur-
ried prayer in which he promised heaven never to
do it again. However, another quarter of an hour
passed, and he attributed these surprising events
to his conscience, and returning, placed the cat
back again on the table.
Just then the door of the room was violently
opened, and Signor Petito fell into the arms of M.
Longuet, who did not express the least astonish-
ment.
M. Longuet threw Signor Petito on the floor in
disgust, and picking up the ornament, opened the
PETITO LOSES HIS EARS 135
window, and threw it out into the street. During
this time, Signor Petito, who had gotten up, could
hardly compose his features, for Mme. Longuet,
in her chemise, was threatening him with a re-
volver. He could only stammer, "I beg your par-
don, I really thought that you were in the coun-
try."
M. Longuet went up to him, and taking him
by one of his ears, said, "Now, my dear Signor
Petito, we must talk."
Marceline lowered the barrel of her revolver,
and felt pleased at seeing her husband show such
courage.
"You see, my dear Signor Petito," continued
Theophraste, "that I am calm. A little while ago
I was getting angry, but it was only at that little
cat which was keeping me from going to sleep,
and which I have thrown out of the window. But
be assured, my dear Signor, I shall not throw you
out of the window. You have not kept me from
sleeping, you have even taken the precaution to
put on slippers. Many thanks. But why, my
dear Signor, do you make that ridiculous grimace?
It is without doubt on account of your ear. I have
some good news to tell you which will perhaps put
you at ease about your ears. YOUR EARS will
make you suffer no more."
136 THE DOUBLE LIFE
Having finished his sarcastic talk, Theophraste
begged his wife to pass him a cloth, and ordered
Signor Petito to go into the kitchen. "Do not be
surprised that I receive you in the kitchen. I prize
my carpets very much, and you will probably
bleed like a pig."
M. Longuet drew towards him a white wooden
table, which he placed in the middle of the kitchen.
He asked Marceline to place an oil-cloth
over the table, and get him a large bowl. He then
asked for a carving set, which he said she would
find in the dresser drawer, which stood in the din-
ing-room. Marceline tried to ask for an explana-
tion, but her husband looked at her so coldly and so
strangely, that, shuddering, she could only obey.
Signor Petito, in a cold perspiration, tried to
reach the door of the kitchen, but M. Longuet
stood between him and the means of exit, and com-
manded him to be seated.
"Signor Petito," said he, in a tone of the most
sarcastic politeness, "you have a face which dis-
pleases me. It is not your fault; but then it is
not mine, either. Certainly you are by far the
most cowardly and the most despicable of thieves.
But what does that matter? But do not smile, Sig-
nor Petito." It is certain that Signor Petito had
no intention of smiling.
PETITO LOSES HIS EARS 137
"You have ridiculously large ears, and surely
with such ears, you dare not pass by the corner
of the Guiliere."
Signor Petito clasped his hands and stammered,
"But my wife awaits me."
"What are you doing, Marceline?" Theophraste
cried impatiently. "Do not you see that Signor
Petito is in a hurry ? His wife is waiting for him.
Have you the carving set?"
"I could not find the fork," answered Marceline
in a trembling voice. (The truth was, Marceline
did not know what to say, for she believed that her
husband had become completely insane, and be-
tween Signor Petito the house-breaker, and Theo-
phraste mad, she was in anything but an enviable
position.) She had hidden herself behind a cup-
board door, and her distress was so extreme, that
in turning suddenly, when Theophraste hurled a
volley of insults at her, she upset her favorite
vase, which made a loud noise, thus adding to the
confusion.
Theophraste resorted once more to oaths and
insults, and called Marceline in such a tone that
she ran to him in spite of herself. The spectacle
which awaited her in the kitchen was atrocious.
Signor Petito was lying on the wooden table, his
eyes bursting from their orbits, a handkerchief
138 THE DOUBLE LIFE
in his mouth, which nearly suffocated him. Theo-
phraste had had the time, and was possessed with
the extraordinary strength to tie his hands and
ankles with cords. Signer Petito's head hung a
little beyond the edge of the table, and under it
there was a bowl which M. Longuet had placed
there to prevent soiling anything. The latter with
palpitating nostrils had caught Signor Petito by
the hair with his left [hand. In his right he
clasped the handle of a notched kitchen knife.
Gnashing his teeth, he cried out, "Strike the
flags."
As he said this he made the first cut at the right
ear. The cartilage resisted. Signor Petito's
muffled groans could just be heard. M. Longuet,
who was still in his night-shirt, worked like a sur-
geon bent upon a difficult operation. Marceline's
strength failed her, and she fell upon her knees.
Signor Petito, in attempting to struggle, threw
the blood from his ears across the kitchen, and
Theophraste, letting go his hair, struck him a blow
across the head. "Be a little careful," said he,
"you are splashing the blood all over everything."
The cartilage still resisted, so taking the right
ear in his left hand, with a strong blow with the
notched knife he tore it away. He placed the
ear in a saucer which he had previously placed on
PETITO LOSES HIS EARS 139
the sink, and allowed the water to flow over it.
Then he came back to the second ear. Marceline
groaned very loudly, but he silenced I ,ith a
glance. The second ear was cut off much more
easily, and with more dispatch.
By this time Signor Petito had swallowed half
of the handkerchief, and was suffocating. Theo-
phraste took the handkerchief out of his mouth
and threw it out into the clothes-basket near by.
He then untied his ankles and wrists, and signed to
him to leave the apartment as soon as possible.
He had the forethought to wrap his head in a
dish-cloth, so that the blood would not stain the
stairway or the janitor's family. As Signor
Petito passed by, in agony, Theophraste put the
washed ears into his vest pocket.
"You forgot something," he said. "What
would Signora Petito say if you went back with-
out your ears ?" He closed the door. Looking at
Marceline, who was on her knees, paralysed with
horror, he wiped the bloody knife on his sleeve.
CHAPTER XV
r Adolphe Consulted
HEOPHRASTE, the next day, seemed to
-* have forgotten all the incidents of the night
before, or at least to attach very little importance
to them.
As to Marceline, she was far too agitated to
make any direct mention of it. However, she knew
Adolphe would be calling at noon and she was re-
solved to find out the cause of Theophraste's ac-
tions before he came so that she could tell Adolphe
the best to act. The thing that struck her most
was Theophraste's sudden show of courage and
strength. Before he had shown excessive lack of
courage, and he was naturally physically weak.
Suddenly, to be seized with all the nerve necessary
to meet a burglar and then to have the strength to
gag and bind him and cut off his ears, was un-
natural. He had always recoiled from the sight of
blood, and here he was fairly reveling in it. What
140
ADOLPHE CONSULTED 141
could all this mean ? He had suddenly turned from
a quiet, inoffensive citizen to a ghoul.
It was with these thoughts that she approached
Theophraste and demanded an explanation. He
at first was loath to tell her, but her entreaties
prevailed, and he eventually told her that it was
the spirit of Cartouche that had seized him and
forced him to do these horrible actions. He told
her with a sort of bravado that there had been
more than one hundred and fifty assassinations
laid to his account.
Marceline was in a terrible state of mind and
shrank from him. She declared that nothing in
the world would make her live with him. She
would apply for a divorce. She thought she had
married an honest man, and now she had discovered
him to be a thief and murderer. Here were enough
grounds for a separation, and she declared her in-
tention of securing it.
At this Theophraste became very melancholy,
and entreated her to think of his side of the calam-
ity. He told her how necessary her help was to
him, and with Adolphe's and her assistance he
thought he could throw off this evil influence. By
this time he had become quite rational, and they
decided to consult Adolphe, and if necessary, have
him live with them. It can be well understood that.
THE DOUBLE LIFE
Marceline readily acquiesced in this suggestion.
Adolphe arrived about 1 o'clock, and she took him
into the sitting-room and was soon in earnest and
animated council with him. Theophraste went
into his office and waited anxiously for them to
join him. After some time they returned, and
Marceline insisted that Theophraste should do all
that Adolphe should ask of him, which he readily
consented to do, having confidence in his friend.
Later on in the afternoon Theophraste and
Adolphe went for a walk into the city. Theo-
phraste immediately began asking questions as to
Adolphe's progress in the search for the treasures.
He, however, was in no mood to tell much. Mar-
celine's story of the night before had driven all
thoughts of the treasure out of his head, and he
answered somewhat abruptly that nothing of im-
portance had been found, and that he must think
of Theophraste's health first, before taking any
further steps.
It was obvious to Theophraste that Adolphe
was evading the subject, and he was determined to
find out more of the matter.
He felt that Adolphe had more information, and
so pressed him to speak. Adolphe then told how
he had discovered that after the war most of the
soldiers who had been serving with Cartouche had
ADOLPHE CONSULTED 143
been discharged, and were left with no means of
livelihood, and so, recognizing him as having the
talent of a leader, they formed themselves into a
party of bandits, and placed him at their head.
At this time the police force of Paris was quite
inadequate to cope with the many crimes; there-
fore Cartouche and his comrades resolved to turn
their attention to this. He divided his men into
troops, and gave them each a quarter, to guard
over which he placed an Untelligent lieutenant.
When anybody was found out after curfew he was
politely accosted and requested to turn over a sum
of money, or if he had no money on him, to part
with his coat. In exchange for this he was given
a pass which entitled him to walk through Paris in
perfect security at any time he pleased. He would
have nothing to fear from Cartouche's men. If
he showed any resistance he was immediately killed.
Cartouche had the clergy on his side, and was
often able to make good use of them. One priest
named Le Ratichon, was even hanged for him.
On reaching the Hotel de Ville, Adolphe stopped
and asked Theophraste if he cared to cross the
Place de 1'Hotel de Ville.
He answered, "If you wish, certainly we will."
"Have you often crossed the place?" said
Adolphe.
144 THE DOUBLE LIFE
"Yes, very often," replied Theophraste.
"And nothing unusual has happened? Is there
any place in Paris which you have some difficulty
in passing?"
"Why, no, of course not. What is there to
hinder me from going anywhere?"
However, Adolphe's look made him reflect, and
then he recalled having several times walked up
the Place de POrdson, and when in front of the In-
stitute he changed his mind and retraced his steps.
He accounted for this rather by his absent-minded-
ness than by anything unusual. He recalled that
he had never passed through the Rue Mazarine or
crossed the Pont-Neuf. Neither had he crossed
the Petit Pont. He had always turned at the
corner of the Rue Ville du Temple, near the house
with the grated windows.
"Why," Adolphe asked, "can't you pass these
places?"
"I think it is because the paving stones are red ;
and I dislike that color."
"You remember the Place de Grere ?"
"Why, yes. It was there that the pillory and
scaffold were erected. The wheel was placed there
on execution days in front of the Rue Vanniere.
There was the old coal harbor. I never passed
that place without counselling my comrades to
ADOLPHE CONSULTED 145
avoid the wheel. However, I will wager not one
profited by it."
"Nor you either," said Adolphe. "It was there
that you suffered the final torment. It was there
that you were racked and expired by the tortures
of the wheel."
CHAPTER XVI
On Private Ground
AMONG all the paper that I found in the oaken
chest, those which related to the death of
Cartouche were by far the most curious, and pre-
sented the highest interest, in that they partly con-
tradicted history. They denied with such persua-
sive strength, and such undeniable logic, that it is
difficult to see how the great historians could have
overlooked the real details, and the generations
which have succeeded since the year 1721, should
not have suspected the truth. History teaches us
that Cartouche, after having suffered the rack in
its most cruel form, during which he confessed
nothing, not even a name or a fact, this Car-
touche, who had only to die, and nothing to gain
from his confession, nothing to soften his last
moments, was brought to torment in the Place de
la Grere, and it was there that he decided to speak.
That they took him back to the Hotel de Ville, and
ON PRIVATE GROUND 14*7
that it was there that he betrayed his principal
accomplices, after which he was racked and fast-
ened to the cross, where he expired.
Immediately after this 360 persons were ar-
rested, with the result that they were tried, and
judicially massacred, the last one of them being
executed two years after Cartouche.
Now in following the papers of Theophraste,
we are not doing full justice to Cartouche. While
Cartouche was an object of terror, he was at the
same time an object of admiration. His cour-
age knew no bounds, and he proved it at the time
of his torture. At the moments when his suffer-
ings were greatest, he did not speak. It was said
that he only wished to die bravely. The great
ladies of the court and of the city had hired win-
dows and points of vantage from which to wit-
ness his death, and he did not wish to show them
en the scaffold, a cowardly dastard, but the most
daring and bravest of bandits. It is an historical
fact that of the 360 persons who were arrested
after his death, it was found that Cartouche was
loved by all. The official report showed women
throwing themselves in the arms of L'Enfant at
the Hotel de Ville, even after the denunciation.
It is not necessary to mention all the protests
that M. Longuet made against the dishonorable
148 THE DOUBLE LITE
death attributed to Cartouche, but some of the
preceding lines seem to show that he was right.
It was while conversing on this question that
Theophraste and his friend arrived at the Rue de
le Petit Pont, without passing over the bridge.
"My dear friend," said Theophraste, "look at
that house at the side of the hotel, which has the
sign, 'To the rendezvous of the Maraiches,' and
tell me if you find anything remarkable about it."
They were then in front of a low, narrow and
dirty old house, a hotel. The door on the ground
floor disclosed a counter for the sale of drinks.
Above the door was a notice, "To the rendezvous
of the kitchen-gardeners." The hotel was leaning
against a vast building of the eighteenth century,
which Theophraste pointed out with his green um-
brella. This building had a balcony of iron,
wrought in a delicate design of the period.
"I observe a beautiful balcony, of which the
feature in the design seems to be the quiver of the
god of love."
"Anything more?" asked Theophraste.
"I do not notice anything further," said
Adolphe.
"Do you notice the large gratings on the win-
dows? There was a time, my dear Adolphe, when
windows that had gratings on were very much in
ON PRIVATE GROUND 149
vogue. There were never so many grilled windows
in Paris as in the year 1720, and I would swear
that these were placed there the day after the
affair of the Chateaux Augustins. The Parisians
always protected their ground floor, but this did
not trouble us very much, for we had Simon
L'Auvergnat."
Adolphe took the opportunity of asking Theo-
phraste exactly who this Simon L'Auvergnat was.
He was always referring to him, and without any
obvious reasons.
"He was a very useful person," said Theo-
phraste, "he was the base of my column."
"What do you mean by the 'base of your
column' ?"
"You do not understand. Wait, and you soon
will. Imagine yourself to be Simon L'Auvergnat.
Stand like this," and he indicated the position,
against the wall of the house, that Adolphe was to
take. He spread his legs and lowered his head,
and raising his arms, leaned against the wall. "I
will place you here," said he, "on account of the
cornice which is to the left. I remember that it
was very convenient. Now, since you are the base
of my column, I lean on that base and then "
Before M. Lecamus had had time to see what was
going to happen, Theophraste gripped his should-
150 THE DOUBLE LIEE
ers, leaped on the cornice of the hotel, from there
to the balcony of the hotel at the side, and entered
a room of which the window had been opened.
M. Lecamus, stupefied, looked up into the air,
and was wondering to himself how on earth his
friend could have disappeared in such a way, when
suddenly piercing cries came from the room, and
a voice yelled out, "Help! Robbers! Murder!
Help!" Fearing some dreadful act, Adolphe
rushed into the hotel. The passers-by were stop-
ping in the street, and before long a crowd had
collected. He leapt over the vast stairway with
the agility of a young man, and arrived on the
first landing at the moment the door opened, and
Theophraste appeared, hat in hand. He
was bowing to an old lady, whose teeth were chat-
tering from fright, and whose hair was all done
up in curl papers. "Dear madame," he was say-
ing, "if I had believed for one instant that I would
have caused you such surprise, I would have re-
mained downstairs. I am neither a robber, nor an
assassin, my dear madam. All this is the fault of
my friend Adolphe, who wanted me to show him
how Simon L'Auvergnat could serve me as the base
of a column."
Adolphe had already seized his arm, and was
drawing him toward the stairway. He made signs
ON PRIVATE GROUND 151
to the lady from behind Theophraste trying to
make her understand that his friend was off his
head. Thereupon, she fell unconscious into the
hands of a chambermaid, and the stairway was
soon filled with a crowd.
Adolphe profited by this to take Theophraste
away. They passed through without hindrance,
and were soon in the street again. Adolphe seemed
not to hear Theophraste's protests. With one
hand he dragged him towards the Rue Huchette,
and with the other dried the sweat which was run-
ning down his forehead.
"Where are you taking me to?" asked Theo-
phraste.
"To the house of one of my friends in the Rue
Huchette."
When they reached the house in the Rue
Huchette, they passed under a red porch, and into
a very old house. Adolphe seemed to know the
people, for he did not wait to be ushered in. He
made Theophraste climb half a dozen stone steps
which were extremely worn, and pushed open a
thick door which was at the end of the court.
They were now in a sort of vestibule, lighted
by a large lamp in the shape of a huge ball, sus-
pended by iron chains from the stone ceiling.
"Wait for me here," said Adolphe, after having
152 THE DOUBLE LIFE
closed the door by which they had entered. He
promised not to be long and disappeared.
Theophraste seated himself in a large arm-
chair, and looked around him. What he saw on
the wall amused him. There was an incredible
quantity of words painted in black letters. They
seemed to cover the whole surface of the wall, in
no sort of order at all. He spelt some of them.
There was Iris, Thabet, Rush, Jakin, Bokez,
Thebe, Paracaler, and the word "Iboah," which
appeared in many places. Turning toward the
other wall, against which he had been leaning, he
saw a Sphinx and the Pyramids.
An immense arch arose, and in the center of this
was Christ, His arms extended out into a circle
of flowers. On the arch were the words, "Amphi-
theater of the wise eternal son of Truth." It was
the arch of the "Rose Cross." Below was this
inscription, "There are none so blind as those who
will not see." Looking around he came across an-
other inscription, in letters of gold : "As soon as
you have won a fact, apply yourself to it with your
whole mind. Look for the salient points in it.
Behold the knowledge which is in it. Give way to
the hypothesis. Hunt for the fault in it." (In-
structions to the clinic of the Hotel Dieu, Prof.
Trousseau.) Besides this he saw figures of forles
ON PRIVATE GROUND 153
and vultures and jackals, men with birds' heads,
beetles, and the emblem of Osiris an ass, and an
eye. Finally he read these words in blue letters:
"The more the soul is rooted in her instincts, the
more will she be forgotten in the flesh, the less
consciousness she will have of her immortality, and
the more she will remain a prisoner in living
corpses."
Impatient at the absence of his friend, and be-
coming 1 a little frightened, he attempted to raise
the drapery behind which Adolphe had disap-
peared. But as he ascended the step his head
struck an object which was suspended in the air,
and looking up he found it was a skeleton.
We have said that M. Lecamus had applied
himself to the occult sciences, and practiced spirit-
ualism, but from what we know of M. Lecamus'
character, we feel that he was only an amateur in
these things. He only practiced spiritualism for
show, for snobbery, and to make an impression at
the parties which he used to frequent. He believed
no more in spiritualism than he believed in love.
The day came, however, when his heart gave way,
and when his spirit humiliated itself. It was the
day that he met Marceline and M. Eliphaste de
St. Elm. He met Marceline at a seance, where
they had made him the father spirit. At this
154* THE DOUBLE LIFE
seance M. Eliphaste was recognized as the chief.
However, this gentleman was rarely seen. He led
a most retired and mysterious life at the foot of
the Rue Huchette.
Marceline had attended this seance by the will
of M. Longuet, who, having been to the Salon
Pneumatics, insisted that Marceline should be pre-
sented there. He thought that it was a kind of
worldly society, where such subjects as pneuma-
tology were discussed.
The day that Marceline made her entrance to
the Salon M. Eliphaste de St. Elm was to read a
paper on the Gourse. Mme. Longuet found her-
self by chance next to M. Lecamus, and after
discussing a good many points in the lecture, they
found that they had a great many things in com-
mon, and by a curious chance M. Lecamus dis-
covered that he was an old college chum of M.
Longuet's. It was thus that he became welcomed
into the family circle of M. Longuet.
This preamble is necessary for us to under-
stand the presence of M. Lecamus and Marceline
together in the house of M. Eliphaste de St. Elm,
at the foot of the Rue de Huchette, while Theo-
phraste was waiting for him wearily in the vesti-
bule. The visit was the result of a conversation
between M. Lecamus and Mme. Longuet, early
ON PRIVATE GROUND 155
that morning. She had hidden nothing from him
regarding the events of the nights before, and
the history of Signor Petito's ears showed to M.
Lecamus the necessity of taking precautions
against the spirit of Cartouche. At the bottom
of his heart M. Lecamus felt to a certain extent
guilty for the follies of Theophraste, and he
had been asking himself, lately, just how far he
could let this reincarnated soul go, for M. Le-
camus was a novice at spiritualism, and it was
his intention to experiment with Theophraste and
Cartouche.
He was no sooner assured of having in his
hands a reincarnated soul, than his curiosity
aroused in him a desire to make use of it. This
was exactly what he had done in putting the re-
incarnated soul of Cartouche before his portrait,
without taking any precautions, and now he did
not know how he could stop that which he had un-
consciously set in motion. He knew how to arouse
such a spirit, but he did not know how to stop
it.
It was for this reason that he and Mme. Longuet
had come this morning to beg M. St. Elm to
exercise his influence, for there was not a cleverer
guide for reincarnated souls in Paris.
156 THE DOUBLE LIFE
In the meantime, Theophraste had been locked
up in the vestibule, and when he struck his head
against the skeleton, he began to think that it
would be more tranquil in a mound at St. Chau-
mont. The corridor in which he found himself
did not have a single window. A red gloom lighted
it from one end to the other. It came from the
cellar, and penetrated the thick pavement glass.
The corridor had crevices and angles. He came
to a corner and stopped abruptly. He was im-
patient to go ahead, and went into one of the
two branching passageways which ran from the
corridor. Five minutes later he found himself
at the same cross passage. Then he went up the
first corridor again, taking the direction that he
had followed in coming out to the vestibule, but
to his great surprise he could not find the vesti-
bule. He wandered about for what seemed to him
several hours, and he was just giving up hope
of ever getting out of this labyrinth, when he
saw Adolphe in the distance. He ran up to him
and was on the point of reproving him for having
kept him waiting so long, when Adolphe said to
him sadly : "Come, Marceline is in there ; we are
going to present you to a good friend."
Theophraste found himself in a large, dark
room, where his attention was attracted by a great
ON PRIVATE GROUND 157
light which fell on the figure of a man. But
strange to say, the light did not seem to fall on
the man, but rather to radiate from him. In
fact, when the figure moved it seemed to carry
the light with it. Before the flambeau a woman
was standing in a humble attitude, with clasped
hands and bowed head.
Then Theophraste heard a voice, a friendly
voice, a manly voice, a voice sweeter than the
sweetest voice of woman, which said to him : "Come
to me without fear."
That which astonished M. Longuet above all
else was the astral light which showed up the
noble features of M. Eliphaste de St. Elm. He
was a person of divine elegance, as elegant as a
Christ on the Tripoli.
"I do not know where I am," said Theophraste,
"but it gives me confidence to see my friend
Adolphe, and my wife, Marceline, at your side.
However, I should like to know your name."
"My dear sir," said the harmonious voice, "I
am called M. Eliphaste de St. Elm."
"Well," said Theophraste, "my name is Car-
touche. But it has been believed for a long, long
time that this name was given to me as a nick-
name."
"You are not Cartouche," said Eliphaste.
158 THE DOUBLE LIFE
"Your name is Theophraste Longuet. You will
pardon me, but there is no longer any need for
confusion; you were formerly called Cartouche,
but now you are called Theophraste Longuet."
M. Theophraste then recalled a number of per-
sonages with whom he had, in the spirit of Car-
touche, been speaking. They were all of the
eighteenth century Gatelard, Marie Antoinette
Neron, and others, and it was evident that his
mind was dwelling on that period, and he was
living in the present a life of the past.
Theophraste was still talking of these times,
when the half shadows which seemed to envelop
him were suddenly dissipated, and the room ap-
peared in the splendid brightness of day. He
looked around with evident satisfaction, first at
his wife, and then at Adolphe, and finally at M.
Eliphaste. Eliphaste had entirely lost his super-
natural aspect, his astral mantle had disappeared,
and if his features had still their sublime and un-
usual pallor, he seemed, nevertheless, a man like
other men.
"Ah, this is better," said Theophraste, sighing.
"It is not necessary for you to think any more
of old Paris," said M. Eliphaste. "You have
nothing more to do with it. You are Theophraste,
and it is the year of grace, 1899."
ON PRIVATE GROUND 159
"Possibly," replied Theophraste, who was ob-
stinate; "but the question is, what about my
treasure? I have a perfect right to look at a
plan of old Paris, for I can follow the place where
I buried it formerly, and find the place where I
must look."
Eliphaste, speaking to Lecamus, said, "I have
often witnessed the crises of Karma, but never has
it been given to me to study one of such strength."
Eliphaste reflected, and then leading Theo-
phraste to the right, he brought him before a map
of real Paris. "Behold," said he, "the exact point
where Le Fouches de Mount Faxons were. As to
the mouth of the Choppinettes, and of the Coq,
they were at those two points of the Monte St.
Chaumont. The forks were found on a small
eminence on the side of the principal mound, but
far to the right of where the Protestant of the
Rue de Crimee stands to-day. To find your
treasure again, my friend, it will be necessary to
search in that triangle. The mounds, as you say,
have been the remains of a filled-in ditch, and I
doubt very much if your treasure could still be
found there. I specified for you the old space
on a modern plan to disillusion you. You must
clear your mind. Think no more on your treasures.
Do not live in the past. You must live in the
160 THE DOUBLE LIFE
present, and for the future. You must drive
away Cartouche, because Cartouche is no more.
It is Theophraste Longuet who is."
M. Eliphaste pronounced these words with
great force.
CHAPTER XVII
They Decide to Kill
MELIPHASTE had been reasoning with
Theophraste, and using all the argu-
ments of spiritualists to persuade him to make
an effort to rid himself of the spirit of Cartouche.
"However," said Theophraste, "I thank you for
the interest you have taken in me, and for your
sympathy ; but I tell you, you can do nothing for
me. You say I am sick, but I am not. If I were
you could cure me. You also say that I am to
drive away this Cartouche; but, though that is
easily said, I can assure you that it is not so
easily done. It is impossible, my dear M. Eli-
phaste."
"And yet," said M. Eliphaste, "it is necessary.
For if we do not succeed in driving him out, we
must kill him. That is an operation the result
of which I cannot vouch. It is a delicate opera-
tion, and full of dangers."
161
162 THE DOUBLE LIFE
M. Eliphaste had hoped that this obsession of
Cartouche was only imaginary, and so by reason-
ing he could drive it away. But, alas, the reality
of it was only too true, and Theophraste, while
willing to help him, could not get himself to
believe M. Eliphastp's arguments.
"You understand," said M. Eliphaste, "your
case is most extraordinary. Everybody in the
world has lived before, and will live again. This
is the Law of Karma. It may be possible to find
some one who was a friend of Cartouche's. The
true object of that wonderful evolution of souls
through the bodies, is to develop and qualify them
to enjoy the perfect happiness which will finally
be the inheritance of the fortunate ones who will
enter into the Kingdom of Heaven. It is thought
that at each birth, the personality differs from
the preceding one, but it is only the veritable,
divine and spiritual I. These divers personalities
are in some measures only the links of the infinite
chain of life, which constitutes, throughout the
ages, our immortal individuality."
The admirable wisdom of the teaching appealed
to Theophraste immensely. Eliphaste had shown
himself so much the master of his thoughts, that
he could not understand why he had remained
ignorant so long, without even having suspected
THEY DECIDE TO KILL 163
these wonderful truths. He saw the great differ-
ence between Eliphaste and Adolphe, the differ-
ence, as he said, "between the Man of Reason
and the Learned Ape."
Eliphaste continued: "When one is persuaded
of this great truth, one need not be astonished
at the wonderful things that happen in the pres-
ent if they recall events of former times. But
to live according to the Law of Wisdom, one must
live in the present, and not look behind."
Theophraste had too often looked behind. His
mind had occupied itself with thoughts of the past.
If this had continued, in a very short time Theo-
phraste would have gone quite mad.
And so Theophraste thought: "I must either
forget Cartouche, throw him off completely, or
develop all his characteristics."
M. Eliphaste told them that what men call voca-
tions to-day were only a latent revelation of the
past, and they could only be explained that way.
He told them that what was called facility among
men to-day was nothing else but retrospective
sympathy for some objects that they knew better
than others, having studied them better before the
real and actual life. He said that we even assume
the gesture of the past without knowing it. He
himself had seen, on the eve of the Battle
164 THE DOUBLE LIFE
of the Bourget, two young men fall near him,
handsome as demigods, brave as Castor and
Pollux, and who succumbed with grace that the
heroes showed in dying at Salamis, Marathon, or
at Platies. M. Eliphaste then pressed Theophraste
to his heart, breathed on his forehead and his
eyes, and then asked him if he was quite persuaded
of the truth. He said that to be happy we must
seek to give an account of ourselves, as to the
perpetual changes of our condition, and that by
this we learned to live in the present, and to com-
prehend that the future belonged to us entirely.
Are we not the children of the Eternal, in whose
eyes a thousand years are as a day, and a day as
a thousand years?
Theophraste said to him that he was not at all
astonished at having been Cartouche it seemed
so natural to his mind that he would never more
dwell on it, and he declared that at present
Cartouche was driven away.
Thereupon Marceline asked what time it was,
and Adolphe told her it was eleven o'clock, and
so they rose to take their leave. However, just
before leaving, an incident occurred which went
to prove too clearly that the spirit of Cartouche
had not left Theophraste.
Upon Adolphe's declaring that it was eleven
THEY DECIDE TO KILL 165
o'clock, Theophraste took out his watch and con-
tended that it was half after eleven, and after a few
words, he said, "You can cut off my right hand
if I am wrong."
Turning to M. Eliphaste, that gentleman con-
firmed M. Lecamus' statement, whereupon Theo-
phraste picked up a small knife which was lying
near, and would have severed his right hand but
for M. Eliphaste, who, grasping the situation,
seized Theophraste's uplifted hand with dexterity
and incredible strength. He ordered him to drop
the knife, and told him that he was not keeping
to the compact. M. Eliphaste felt that it was no
good arguing with him on the matter of the spirit
of Cartouche, and despaired of ever ridding him
of the spirit by reasoning. He turned to Adolphe
and said, "Let us go. It is too late. There
is nothing to do but to kill him."
CHAPTER XVIII
The Operation .
THIS savage onslaught, which but for the pres-
ence of mind of M. Eliphaste would have
terminated in the amputation of M. Longuet's
hand, proved to them that the sanguine imagina-
tion of Cartouche had so completely invaded the
brain of M. Longuet that it seemed to them the
only remedy for such a misfortune was the death
of Cartouche.
M. Eliphaste did not hesitate. He had reasoned
with him in vain, and had even hoped at one time
that he had been victorious, but this incident un-
doubtedly proved otherwise. He rose and looked
at Theophraste, giving him a long, steady glance,
which seemed to pierce the uttermost depths of
his soul. Theophraste sighed several times and
began to tremble violently, when M. Eliphaste
cried, "Cartouche, I order you to sleep." Theo-
phraste fell as if stricken on the armchair which
166
THE OPERATION 167
stood behind him, and did not make another move.
His respiration was so silent that they doubted if
he still lived. Marceline ran to him alarmed, but
M. Eliphaste restrained her, saying, "All is well.
The operation of the death of Cartouche has
begun."
Adolphe knew, from several examples, that there
is always a great risk when one wishes to kill a
reincarnated soul that is to say, to throw it back
toward the past. There is a risk of killing the
body in which it is reincarnated. And so he knew
that trying to kill the soul of Cartouche without
killing Theophraste was a great undertaking.
It needed all the authority, and all the science
of M. Eliphaste, to calm them in the extremity
in which they found themselves. He was the most
intellectual and scientific spiritualist of the day.
He had the most absolute and domineering will
that the world had seen since Jacques Molay, to
whom he had succeeded, by the supreme direction
of the secret order of Temphis. He had made an
allegorical demonstration of his last treatise on
"Psychic Surgery," and had analyzed the subject
in his pamphlet on "Astral Scalpel."
It is necessary to enumerate all the accomplish-
ments of M. Eliphaste, for it gives Adolphe a
chance of refuting in advance the reproach put
168 THE DOUBLE LIFE
upon him for letting him treat his best friend with
the utmost severity. The criminal eccentricities
of M. Longuet, of which Signer Petito was the
first victim, made him dread the most irremediable
catastrophes, and it was for this reason that he
was led to consider the operation of Cartouche
as a benefit, not only possible, but probable, with-
out too great a risk to Theophraste. As to Mme.
Longuet, her faith in M. Eliphaste was so great
that at first she only made a few remarks, so as
to relieve her of any responsibility, and then the
terror that she had of sleeping with Cartouche
made her, over and above everything, desire his
death.
M. Eliphaste told Adolphe to take Theophraste's
heels, and he took and held him under the arm-
pits, and they carried him into the sub-cellar,
where a laboratory had been fitted up, which was
lighted in the day by gas, with large, red, hissing
flames.
Mme. Longuet followed. They placed Theo-
phraste on a bed, and bound him down with straps.
He was still under the mesmeric influence. M.
Eliphaste stood over him, watching him closely,
for a quarter of an hour, during which time there
was a deep silence in the room. At length a
THE OPERATION 169
voice was heard. It was M. Eliphaste praying.
The prayer began in this way:
"In the beginning there, was silence. Oh, age
Eternal, source of all ages "
When the prayer was ended, M. Eliphaste took
Theophraste by the hand and seemed to command
him without speaking. He questioned Theo-
phraste by the strength of his domineering spirit
only by the answers Theophraste made could
they understand what he had been commanded to
tell. Theophraste said, without effort, "Yes, I see.
Yes, I am. I am M. Theophraste Longuet ; in an
apartment of the Rue Gerondeau." M. Eliphaste
turned toward Adolphe and Marceline. "The
operation is a bad one," he said in a deep voice.
"I have put Cartouche to sleep, and Theophraste
answers me. He is sleeping in the present. We
must not precipitate matters. It will be danger-
ous."
"I am in the Rue Gerondeau in the apartment
under mine and I see stretched on the bed a man
without ears. In front of him a woman ; a dark
woman she is pretty she is young her name
is Regina the woman is saying to the man, 'Sig-
nor Petito, as true as I am called Regina, and
that you have lost your ears, you will cease to
see me in forty-eight hours if you have not found
170 THE DOUBLE LIFE
the means to give me a little comfort, to which
I have a right. When I married you, you basely
deceived me, both as to your fortune and as to
your intelligence. Your fortune rested only in
hopes which have not been realized. What are you
going to do?'
"Signer Petito replies, 'My dear Regina, you
puzzle me. Leave me in peace to find a trace of
the treasures that the imbecile above is incapable
of snatching from the profound depths of the
earth.' "
Theophraste made them understand, in his
sleep, that the imbecile referred to was Cartouche.
M. Eliphaste turned toward them, saying, "I ex-
pect that word to make him quit the present. Now,
madam, the time has come. I am going to tempt
God." And then he spoke in a commanding voice,
in a voice that it seemed impossible not to obey.
"Cartouche," said he, extending his hand above
the strapped bed with a commanding majesty,
"Cartouche, where wast thou on the night of the
first of April, 1721, at ten o'clock?"
"On the night of April first, 1721, at ten o'clock,
I struck two light blows on the door, with the
intention of making them open the door of the
Tavern Reine Margot. I never should have be-
THE OPERATION 171
lieved that I could have reached the ironmonger's
shop so easily. But I had killed the horse of the
French guardsman, and I had thrown those who
had followed him into the Seine. At the Reine
Margot I found Paleton, Gatelard, and Guenal
Noire. La Belle Laittiere was with them. I re-
lated the story to them while emptying a bottle
of wine. I had confidence in them, and I told
them that I suspected Va de Bon Cceur and per-
haps Marie Antoinette of having whispered
something to the spies. They cried out, but I
cried out louder than they. I announced to them
that I had decided to deal summarily with all
who gave me cause to suspect them. I became
very angry, and La Belle Laittiere told me that
I was no longer bearable. Was it my fault?
Every one had betrayed me. I could not sleep
two nights consecutively in one place. Where,
then, were the days when all Paris was with me?
Where, then, was the day of my wedding to Marie
Antoinette, when we sang the air of 'Tout joli
belle menniere, Tout joli moulin'? Where was
now my uncle Taton? Shut up in a castle. And
his son? Killed by me because he was going to
denounce me. I had done it quickly. A pistol
shot, and his corpse was under a pile of rubbish.
Then I was sure of his silence. I killed the robber
172 THE DOUBLE LIFE
Pepin, and the police officer Huron. I did not
ask anything, only that they leave me alone to
police Paris for the security of everybody. My
great council," this he murmured to himself, "did
not pardon me for having Jacques le Febrere exe-
cuted. I am no longer bearable, and that is
because I wish to live. After that which had
come to pass," continued Theophraste in his hyp-
notic sleep, "and the miraculous way in which I
escaped in spite of treachery and the precautions
taken by the spies, I did not conceal from Gate-
lard or from Guenal Noire that I had decided to
leave them.
"I soon left them and opened the door of the
Reine Margot. Not a soul in the ironmonger's
shop. I was saved. I did not even stop Magdelen,
whom I passed while walking along the walls of
the cemetery, where I was going to sleep that
night. Truth was, I was going to pass the night
like a robber in my hole in the Rue Amelot. It
was pouring with rain."
It would be difficult to describe the strange tone
in which this narrative was related. The undula-
tion of the phrases, their stops and their stations,
then the peculiar monotone in which the words
fell from Theophraste's lips while he was in the
THE OPERATION 173
hypnotic sleep. His face sometimes expressed
anger, sometimes contempt, and sometimes terror.
M. Lecamus, who had seen Cartouche's portrait,
recalled that at certain times there was a striking
resemblance to that of Theophraste. Just as he
was relating the incident of passing Magdelen,
and the downpour of rain, Theophraste's face
showed a most peculiar expression, changing from
joy to most overwhelming despair.
M. Eliphaste, leaning over the bed, asked him:
"What then, Cartouche?"
Theophraste replied in a rattling voice: "I
killed a passerby."
The operation continued, but it was only by
degrees that M. Eliphaste wished to bring Car-
touche to the hour of his death. Before making
him live his death, it was necessary to make him
live a little of his life. That was the reason that
M. Eliphaste had thrown the spirit of Cartouche
back to the month of April, 171.
Though the minutes following were terrible for
the onlookers, they were worse for Cartouche, who
was passing through the end of his career the
second time.
It was not until October 11, 1721, that the
treason bore fruit.
174 THE DOUBLE LIFE
Coustard, sergeant in the company of Cha-
bannes, took forty men and four sergeants with
him, all of whom were designated by Duchatelle,
Cartouche's lieutenant, who had betrayed him.
This little army, in citizen clothes, concealing its
arms very mysteriously, surrounded the house
pointed out by Duchatelle.
It could not have been more than nine o'clock
in the evening when they arrived in sight of the
tavern, Au Pictolet, kept by Germain Tassard and
his wife, near the Rue des Trois Bornes. Tassard
was smoking his pipe on the doorstep, when
Duchatelle came up and demanded, "Is there no-
body upstairs? No? Where are the four ladies ?"
Tassard, who expected this question, said, "Go
up."
The little troop rushed in, and when they came to
the room above, they found Boloquy and Car-
touche drinking wine before the fireplace. Gaillard
was in bed, and Cartouche was seated on the bed,
mending his breeches.
They rushed upon him. The attack was so
sudden that he had no time to make any resistance.
They tied him with strong ropes, and, placing him
in the coach, took him prisoner to Monsieur the
Secretary of State. Then he was taken to the
Grande Chatelet.
THE OPERATION 175
He was in his shirt, having had no time to put
on his breeches. He kept cool, congratulating the
lieutenant who had betrayed him on the fine livery
he wore.
As the coach passed down the road, it nearly
crushed some poor wretch who was in the way,
and Cartouche, seeing his plight, shouted to him
that phrase which he seemed to have affected, "It
is necessary to look out for the wheel."
All the people ran out to see him on his way to
the house of M. the Secretary of State. They
cried out, "It is Cartouche! It is Cartouche!"
only half believing it, as they had so often been
deceived.
While in the prison awaiting trial, Cartouche
received many illustrious visitors. The Regent
came; the courtesan Emilie and the Mme. le
Marechale de Boufflers followed one after the other
to pay the prisoner small attentions. Some one
had composed a play, and Quinnato, the famous
actor of the time, who filled the principal role in it,
came to ask him for suggestions about the chief
scene.
When Cartouche had been sufficiently amused,
he began to think of making his escape. He in-
tended doing this in spite of the very close watch
that was being kept over him.
176 THE DOUBLE LIFE
After getting out of his dungeon, and just as
he was pushing the last bar which separated him
from the street and liberty, he was discovered
and caught.
Thinking that the Grande Chatelet was not
strong enough for so ingenious a man, he was
bound securely in chains and taken to the Con-
ciergerie, in the most formidable corner of the
tower of Montgomery.
CHAPTER XIX
The Torture Chamber
IT is only the basest of literature that describes
without adequate reason the weird, the horri-
ble. However, many authors find it necessary to
dilate upon the most satanic personalities of men,
and the worst cruelties imaginable.
Therefore, it is only with the knowledge that
the recital of the misfortunes of Theophraste is
destined to throw a light on the most obscure prob-
lems of psychic surgery that the author of these
lines proceeds with this description of the most
frightful tortures, moral and physical, that have
ever been endured by man.
The operation to be performed was a singular
one, and full of the gravest of dangers. How-
ever, M. Eliphaste was in the habit of performing
the most complicated of psychic operations, and
the delicacy of his astral scalpel was universally
acknowledged. But the difficulty was the delay.
177
178 THE DOUBLE LIFE
Had M. Lecarrms brought Theophraste earlier, the
danger would have been less, but now M. Eliphaste
recognized the gravity of the case, and he said
that to kill Cartouche without killing Longuet
was to tempt God. It was the gravest responsi-
bility.
However, he knew how to lead M. Longuet's
mind quietly and without haste to the subject of
his death, and thus he prepared him for death.
He made him live his death the moment that he
made him die his death. Then, at the psychological
moment, he made a certain gesture, the double sign
which precipitated in death the spirit of the dead,
and brought back to life the living mind.
These were the details of the operation to be
performed, and the preliminaries, which consisted
in making Theophraste live through the last
months of Cartouche's life, having been started,
M. Eliphaste began asking Theophraste a series
of questions. The latter was lying, groaning, on
the bed in the laboratory, which was lighted by
the hissing scarlet flames.
M. Lecamus and Mme. Longuet sat on a low
bench at one side of the room. M. Eliphaste stood
beside the bed.
"Where did they take you, Cartouche?"
"In the torture room. My trial is ended. I ain
THE TORTURE CHAMBER 179
condemned to die on the wheel. Before the torture
they wish me to confess the names of my accom-
plices, my friends, my mistresses. I should rather
die on the wheel twice ! They shall know nothing !"
"And now, where are you, Cartouche?"
"I am going down a small stairway, at the end
of the 'Walk of the Pillory.' I open a grating.
I am in the dark cellars. These dungeons do not
frighten me. I know them well! Ah! Ah! I
was shut up in that dungeon under Phillippe le
Bel!"
Then with a terrible power M. Eliphaste cried
out, "Cartouche ! Thou art Cartouche ! Thou art
in the dungeons by order of the Regent." Then
he repeated to himself, "Phillippe le Bel?" and
then to Theophraste again, "Where are we going?
Where are we ? My God ! We must not lose our
way! And now where are you, Cartouche?"
"I advance in the darkness of the cellars. There
are about me, walking in the dark, so many guards-
men that I cannot tell the number. I see below,
far, far below, a ray of light that I know well.
It is a square ray of light that the sun has for-
gotten since the beginning of the history of
France. My guards are not French guardsmen.
They mistrust all French guardsmen. My guards
180 THE DOUBLE LIFE
are commanded by the Lieutenant of the Short
Robe of the Chatelet."
"Where art thou now, Cartouche?"
"I am in the torture chamber. There are before
me men clothed in long robes, but I cannot distin-
guish their faces. They are my commissioners, who
have been entrusted with the verifications, as ap-
peared to be the custom. But why do they call
it verifications? The thought makes me smile."
(Theophraste really smiled as he said this.)
"Where are you now, Cartouche?"
"They put me on the criminal stool. They have
put my legs in backings. With incredibly strong
cords, they have bound small planks about my
legs. I believe truly that the rascals wish to make
me suffer to the limit, and the whole day's work
will be rough. But I have a heart hardened by
courage. They shall not break it !" At this point
M. Longuet, on his strapped bed, uttered a fearful
cry. His mouth was wide open, and he groaned
incessantly. Adolphe and Marceline leaned over
him and asked with horror when that howling
would cease, and when that mouth would close.
But M. Eliphaste only said, "The torture has
begun. But if he howls like that at the first blow
of the mallet, there is going to be trouble." M.
Eliphaste was not expecting those groans. He
THE TORTURE CHAMBER 181
paid no attention to the howling. He calmed M.
Lecamus and Mme. Longuet with a supreme ges-
ture. He spoke to Theophraste, something they
never knew, for the howling prevented them from
hearing anything.
At last the howling became groaning, and even-
tually the groaning itself stopped. Theophraste's
face had become comparatively placid.
"Why do you cry out in that way, Cartouche ?"
"I scream because it is a punishment that I
cannot denounce my accomplices. I have their
names on the end of my tongue ! They do not see
that if I do not denounce them it is because I
cannot move the end of my tongue ! I cannot ! I
cannot! I cannot! And they struck with their
mallet again! And they sunk the pieces of wood
into my legs again! It is unjust! I cannot
move the end of my tongue!"
"What are they doing to you now, Cartouche?"
"The doctor and the surgeon are leaning over
me and feeling my pulse. They are congratulat-
ing themselves on having chosen that kind of
torture, which is, they are saying to the commis-
sioners, the least dangerous to life and the least
susceptible to accidents."
"And now, Cartouche, what are they doing to
you?"
182 THE DOUBLE LIFE
"They are doing nothing to me, and I regret it,
for they have decided to bury the second wedge
in me only a half hour after the first, and let
the pain which it produced pass away, and the
sensibility be entirely restored. I am looking at
my judges. They have black mouths. I like the
face of the executioner better. He is no more
amused than I. He wants to be somewhere else.
But there he comes with the second judge. They
are all around me. They are over me ! Ah ! Ah !
Ah! Ah! . . ."
Never had Theophraste looked so terrible. His
mouth was wide open, and his tongue seemed para-
lyzed. Foam was around his lips, and his eyes
seemed to start out of his head.
M. Lecamus looked across to M. Eliphaste, who
said, when the second howl had died away, "Why
do you scream, Cartouche?"
"Because these torturers will not listen to the
names that are on the end of my tongue."
"But you have not told us any names. You
have only screamed."
"It is Cartouche they are torturing and Longuet
who screams," answered Theophraste.
M. Eliphaste was taken aback by this last re-
sponse. He turned toward the two silent onlook-
THE TORTURE CHAMBER 183
ers and said in a low, trembling voice, "Then it
is he who is suffering 1 ."
There was no room for doubting this truth.
The fearful expressions on Theophraste's face
as he imagined the executioner forcing the wedge
in, showed too plainly that though it was Car-
touche whom they tortured, it was Theophraste
who really suffered.
M. Eliphaste seemed very concerned. Never
before had such a case come before his astral
scalpel. The identity of the soul had been proven,
and suffering Cartouche had cried out in distress
after two centuries. This cry had waited to come
from the lips of Theophraste.
M. Eliphaste leaned his head on his hands and
prayed. After a short silence he turned to M.
Lecamus and said, "We are only at the second
wedge, and there are seven of them."
"Do you think my husband will have the strength
to bear them?" asked Marceline.
M. Eliphaste leaned over the prostrate form of
Theophraste and examined his head, just as the
doctor had done to Cartouche in the torture
chamber.
"The man is all right," said he. "I don't be-
lieve there is anything to fear now. We must
kill Cartouche."
184 THE DOUBLE LIFE
"I think so, too," said Lecamus. "It is neces-
sary for the future security and definite happiness
of M. Longuet."
M. Eliphaste then continued his interrogations :
"And now what are they doing to you, Car-
touche?"
"They are questioning me. I cannot reply.
Why doesn't that man in the corner of the dungeon
do his duty? I have not yet seen his face. He
turned his back to me and made a noise with
old irons. The executioner is very quiet. He is
leaning against the wall, yawning. There is a
lamp on the table which gives light to two men,
who write incessantly. Behind the man who is
making the noise I see a little red light. The
executioner's assistant has loosened the knots in
the cords a little, which gives me a relief for which
I am grateful. . . . But . . . but . . . but the
assistant on the other side pulls and pulls. If he
continues to pull the cords so he will cut my legs
off. They bring a crucifix for me to kiss. Be-
hind the man who turned his back on me I hear
something like crackling embers, and there are
small red flames which lick the stone walls. Be-
tween the two men who are writing there is a
man who makes a sign. The executioner has a
kind face. I sign to him for some water. I could
THE TORTURE CHAMBER 185
bear the pain better if I had not such a thirst.
The executioner raises his mallet ! I swear I can-
not say the names which are at the end of my
tongue. They will not leave me. I cannot speak !
Oh ! why cannot you hear them ? Take them from
me!"
By this time his mouth had become closed, but
the lips were opened in such a way as to make it
appear that he had no lips. The teeth were
locked and welded together tightly. A muffled cry
of suffering came from the throat, but could not
escape through the closed teeth. Suddenly there
was a sharp grinding, and his teeth began to break
under the great pressure of that closed jaw.
Pieces of teeth w r ere scattered over the bed, and
blood issued from his mouth. His horrible groan-
ing continued, and Theophraste showed signs of
weakening under the great strain.
At this horrible spectacle M. Eliphaste declared
wearily that he had never assisted or suspected
that he could assist at such suffering. He con-
fessed that until to-day he had never operated on
a reincarnated soul of less than five hundred
years. It was obvious that in spite of all his
science and all his experience the illustrious medium
was nonplussed.
M. Eliphaste did not try any longer to dissimu-
186 THE DOUBLE LIFE
late his anxiety. He could have stopped the
operation there if he had had time. But they
buried the wedges in so rapidly that it did not
even permit him to question M. Longuet.
During this last performance M. Longuet's
toothless mouth opened again. Other cries issued
from it which were not like human cries at all.
They were so curious and so weird that all three
onlookers leaned over him, trembling with terror
to see how such a cry could be made by a human
mouth.
Mme. Longuet wanted to run away, but in her
fright she fell. When she arose the cries had
ceased. M. Eliphaste commanded her to be quiet,
recalling to her with a severe look her responsi-
bility in the operation.
M. Theophraste now reposed peacefully on his
strap-mattress. That peacefulness, following im-
mediately the horrors of such suffering, was ex-
traordinary. He was not in pain. He remem-
bered none of it. After the torturing was over
he ceased to think of it, and consequently this
was how he could reply to M. Eliphaste in the
intervals of torture, in the most natural way,
without physical emotion.
M. Eliphaste again began to interrogate him:
"And now where are you, Cartouche?"
THE TORTURE CHAMBER 187
"I am still in the torture chamber. Ah! they
hold me! They hold me tightly! They hold my
arms ! What are they going to do ? The man
in the center says, 'By order of the Regent we
must have the names. So much the worse if he
dies for it! Are the tongs ready? Begin with
the breasts! . . .' Oh! Oh! The man kneel-
ing before the burning coals gets up, making a
noise with the irons. He hands the red tongs to
the executioner. They uncover my right breast!
Oh ! Oh ! It is dreadful ! I cannot live through
it!"
CHAPTER XX
In the Charnel House
THE recital which follows is the integral re-
production of what came out of the mouth
of Theophraste while plunged in hypnotic sleep,
from the moment that he submitted to the torture
until he died. This part is of the highest im-
portance, not only for the experimental spirit of
science, but for history, for it destroys the legend
of the wheel and shows to us, in an indisputable
fashion, the real death of Cartouche. I have not
found this part stored in the oaken chest, but in
the papers and statements which have been read
in the Spiritual Congress of 1889. It is all from
M. Eliphaste's hand.
Theophraste, or, rather, Cartouche in the power
of M. Eliphaste, said, "I do not know exactly
what has happened to me. I have died, I have
hidden the document, and I have not met a single
person. When I re-opened my eyes (I had them
188
IN THE CHARNEL HOUSE 189
closed then, and I was without doubt falling from
a feebleness that seemed like death) I did not
recognize at first a single one of the objects which
surrounded me, and I did not know the place into
which they had carried me. Certainly I am no
longer in the torture room, nor in my dungeon
in the tower of Montgomery. Am I only in the
Conciergerie again ? I do not know. Where have
they imprisoned me after the torture, whilst wait-
ing for my death? Into what new prison have
they thrown me ? The first thing that I distinguish
is a bluish light which flitters across some heavy
bars which are covered with a grating. The moon
visits me. It descends two or three steps. I try
to make a movement, but I cannot. I am an inert
thing. My will does not control my legs any
longer, nor a single one of my muscles. It is as
if they had severed all relations between my will
and my flesh. My brain is no longer the master
of seeing and comprehending. It is no longer
master of my actions. My poor legs ! I feel them
scattered around me. I ought to have attained
a degree of suffering I kneel on one, as I have
explained, so that I shall not suffer more. But
where am I? ... The moon descended two more
steps, and then two more. ... Oh ! Oh ! What is
this that the moon lights ? It is an eye ! A large
190 THE DOUBLE LIFE
eye! But the eye is empty; that large eye is
empty, and the other eye at its side which is also
lighted now is covered again with its green eye-
lid. I see the whole head! It had no skin on
the cheeks, but it had a beard on the chin. The
moon advances continuously. It halts gently in
the holes of the nose. It has two holes in the
nose, two on a head. . . . They threw me, then,
into a common ditch ! The moon shone on me. . . .
I have two legs of a corpse across my stomach. I
recognize those steps now, and this ditch, and
this moon. ... I am in the charnel house of
Montfanon! ... I am afraid! . . . When I went
up to the Cleopimetes by the Rue des Morts on
junketing days I used to look at that charnel
house through the grating. I looked at it with
curiosity because I already saw my carrion there,
but the idea never occurred to me that when a
carrion was there it could look from the other
side of the grating. And now my carrion sees !
They threw me there because they thought me
dead, and I am buried alive, with the corpses of
the persons hanged. My fate is entirely miserable
and surpasses all that the imagination of men
could invent! The saddest reflections assail me,
and if I ask myself first of all, by what artifice
of fate I am reduced to such an extremity, I
IN THE CHARNEL HOUSE 191
am obliged to confess that fate had nothing to
do with this affair, but my pride only. I should
have continued quietly to be the 'chief of all the
robbers' if I had remained alive. But La Belle
Laittiere was right when she said in the tavern of
the Reine Margot that I was no longer fit to
live. I was pleased to play the potentate, and I
ended by having a mania for cutting up in pieces
all those whom I suspected. My lieutenants ran
more danger in serving me than in deserting me.
They betrayed me, and that was logical. The
beginning of my bad luck was the affair of the
Luxembourg. It should have opened my eyes, but
my pride hindered me from seeing clearly. This
is a good time for these reflections, now that I
am in the charnel house.
"I am living in the charnel house with the dead,
and for the first time in my life I am afraid. But
I am not afraid of the dead; I am afraid of the
living, for there is one near me alive! I know
that he moves. It is strange that at this moment,
when I am upon the limit of life and death, my
senses perceive things that they ignored in good
kealth, and while my ears do not hear any more,
on account of the boiling water with which they
were filled, I know there is some one alive near
me. Shall I be then not the only one to live in
192 THE DOUBLE LIFE
this domain of putrefaction? I recall that the
Vache-a-Paniers told me that the Count de Chara-
lais had caused some women who had resisted him
to be buried alive in the little ditches near the
earthen mound of Montfan9on, but I, Cartouche,
have no desire to think of such a crime. I know
very well that he bathes himself in the blood of
young virgins whom he had killed, to cure himself
of a terrible disease which ate into his flesh, but
to bury women alive in ditches, that I do not
believe. And yet there is on my left side a woman
who moves in one of the ditches. I do not hear
her, I feel her. The moon had lengthened its ray
of light as far as myself. Its ray is divided into
three by the bars of the grating. This makes
three blue bands, by which I see, first of all, the
hole of the eye, and the three holes of the nose,
and then a wonderful mouth, which sticks its
tongue out at me. Then there are three bodies
without heads. In the left side of the third body
I distinguish very plainly the putrefied wound in
which was buried one of the rings from which
the headless one was hanged. He could not be
hanged by the neck, as he had no head. As I do
not feel the woman at my side in the ditch move
any more, I collect my wits a little and I employ
myself in remembering the bodies which fill the
IN THE CHARNEL HOUSE 193
charnel house. I begin to see those which are
entirely in the shadows. There are some! There
are some more sounds. They bring all the exe-
cuted criminals here from the city. There are
some fresh ones, there are some decayed ones,
there are some well preserved ones, and all dry;
but the others are not presentable they are fall-
ing into ruin. I will soon be a ruin like them.
However, all is not said, all is not finished, since
I exist. Hope is not dead. One finds hope even
in the depths of a charnel house. Oh, if I could
move! The dead men are moving! I will end by
moving also. I have turned my eyes as far as
it is possible in the right corner of the orbit. I
have seen that the corpse which is on my stomach
does not move its head. It slides on my stomach.
I begin to be afraid again, not because the dead
one moved for the charnel house belongs to the
dead, who do there what they wish, but because
they pull the dead man by the legs. I turn my
eyes in the other corner. In the left corner I saw
a dead man's leg in the air. This leg ought to
be held by something, pulled by something. The
moon rises the length of the wall, with the leg as
far as one of the holes. And my eyes look so
much to the left that they see a living hand. The
living hand which came out of the hole holds the
194 THE DOUBLE LIFE
dead foot. I feel, I know that there is a woman
eating in the ditch at the side. And now I cannot
take my eyes from the hole for fear of seeing the
live hand come back and seeing it reach out. But
I hope on my salvation. I hope that the hand
will not be long enough. Suddenly the moon ceases
to light up the hole, and I turn my eyes toward
the grating where the moonlight enters. Then I
see between the moon and me a man on the steps
of the charnel house. A living man. I am saved
perhaps. I wished to cry out with joy, and I
should have, perhaps, if the horror of that which I
feel and know all at once had not suddenly closed
my throat. I feel, I know, that that man has
come to rob me of my bones ! . . . On account of
the Courtesan Emilie ! . . . The Regent is remem-
bered with the Duke of Orleans and Jean sans
Peur.
"The Courtesan Emilie would not see him again.
The devil meddled with the affair, and carried a
bone of Cartouche, who was beloved by Emilie, to
place in her bed between her chemise and her
skin. I know this, my eye has read this in the heart
of the man who descends the steps of the charnel
house. He comes there to take my bones from
me. . . . He lights a lantern. He goes straight
to my corpse. He does not see, then, that the
IN THE CHARNEL HOUSE 195
eyes of my corpse are moving! . . . He draws out
from under his cloak a steel blade sharp and red
in the rays from the lantern. He puts the lantern
down, he catches me by the shoulders and leaves
me half sitting against the wall, under the hole.
He took my left hand with his left hand, and
with his right hand he buried the steel blade in
my wrist. I do not feel the blade in my wrist,
but I see it. It turns around my wrist. It is
going to cut it, already it has detached it. Now
I commence to feel the blade ! Life has come back
into my wrist! Oh, yes, my wrist! . . . Oh, yes,
my wrist ! . . . One last blow with the blade and
my left hand remains in his left hand. Oh, my
poor wrist! ... Yes ! Yes! Yes! The life!
The life ! The life of a nerve ! I tell you that it
sufficed for the life of a nerve ! Oh ! Oh ! Oh !
The man howls and breaks his lantern with a kick.
My hand is partly in the man's hand, but by a
great miracle of the ebbing life in my wrist, my
hand, at the moment it leaves my arm, has seized
the hand of the man ! And the man cannot rid
himself of my hand, which is stiffening in death,
and which holds him ! Ah ! he moves about, he
shakes, he howls, he shakes my hand, which holds
him which holds him. He pulls my hand with
his right hand, but he cannot free himself thus
196 THE DOUBLE LIFE
of the wrist of a dead man's hand! I see him as
he flees from the charnel house, howling, bounding
over the steps in the moonlight like a fool, like a
madman, gesticulating with my wrist.
"At this moment, above my head, a hand that
I do not see, but which I feel, comes out of the
wall and takes me by the hair! It pulls me,
pulls me by the head. Oh, to cry out! To cry
out! To cry out! But how can I cry out with
those living teeth staving me in the neck and
throat?"
"And now, Cartouche, where art thou?"
"I go into the darkness radiant in death."
CHAPTER XXI
The Result of the Operation
AS soon as Theophraste had pronounced these
words, M. Eliphaste made a sweeping ges-
ture with his right arm. He leaned over the
prostrate form, and blew impatiently on his eye-
lids.
He said to him: "Awake thou, Theophraste
Longuet !"
This was repeated three times, each time with
greater earnestness. However, Theophraste never
moved. His immobility was deathlike, and his
toothless mouth and bloodless lips made the silent
onlookers believe that he had followed Cartouche
in the shadow of death. His corpselike pallor
seemed to them to be already turning green, and
his hair, having become suddenly white, gave him
the appearance of a very old man. Was he already
dead? Was he decomposing already?
M. Eliphaste repeated the gestures, and in his
197
198 THE DOUBLE LIFE
intense earnestness appeared like a madman. He
blew again on the eyes, and parted the eyelashes,
again crying out: "Theophraste Longuet, awake
thou ! Awake thou, Theophraste Longuet !"
Just at the moment when they believed that
Theophraste Longuet would never return to life
again, a slight tremble shook his frame, and draw-
ing a deep breath, he turned his face toward them.
At first he breathed with difficulty, but quickly
recovering, he opened his eyes and said: "Car-
touche is dead!"
M. Eliphaste's face lit up with emotion. "Let
us thank God," he said, "that the operation has
been successful," and he began his prayer again :
"In the beginning thou wast silent! Eon!
Source of all ages! . . ."
Mme. Longuet and M. Adolphe threw them-
selves on Theophraste, while thanking God from
the bottom of their hearts. They felt that the
death of Cartouche had not been too dearly
bought. The operation had certainly been a rough
one, but he had only lost his teeth, and his hair
had turned white. Mme. Longuet put her arms
around her husband, and helped him rise from
the couch. "Let us go. We have stopped here
too long already," she said.
"Speak louder," said Theophraste, with strange
IN THE CHARNEL HOUSE 199
enunciation. "I have something in my ears. I
cannot move, either."
"It is natural that you should be a little be-
numbed, my dear," said Mme. Longuet. "You
have been stretched on that bed for a long time.
But make an effort."
"Speak louder, I tell you. I can move my arms
now, but I cannot stir my legs. They won't move,
and my feet pain me very much."
He then put his hand to his mouth and said:
"Why, what have you done with my teeth? You
put me to sleep to fix my teeth, and you have
taken them from me."
It was curious that while he was asleep, even
after he had lost his teeth, he spoke distinctly.
It was evident that he could not move, and Mme.
Longuet removed the clothing to rub his stiff
limbs. To her sorrow she found his clothes all
torn, and on looking closer saw all the flesh on
his limbs lacerated. His legs and feet were boiled.
The flesh was torn away in some places, and
burned horribly in others. M. Eliphaste, with
trembling hands, removed the clothing from his
chest, and there they saw, over the heart, two
spots of black blood. His biceps bore fresh marks
of frightful torture.
Mme. Longuet sobbed loudly, and sat with low-
200 THE DOUBLE LIFE
ered head, looking at the horrible sight. Adolphe
ran to get a carriage. It was evident that Theo-
phraste could not walk or move. On his return,
Theophraste was still complaining of the pain.
Adolphe, with the assistance of the carriage
driver, carried him out into the street. They
lifted him carefully on the mattress, and walked
slowly out, followed by the weeping Marceline.
M. Eliphaste prostrated himself on the ground,
and with his hands clasped and elbows on the
floor, cried out with a voice full of sorrow: "My
beloved! My well beloved! I believed that I was
Your son. Oh, my well beloved ! I have taken
Thy shadow for Thy light. Thou hast crushed
my pride. I am in the dark, at the bottom of
an abyss I, the man of light and I have hated
it. I am only the son of silence. Eon ! Source
of Eon! Oh, life! To know life! To possess
life!"
And thus, as they went out into the pure air,
they left him praying.
CHAPTER XXII
Visits to a Butcher's Shop
THEOPHRASTE'S bones were not broken,
and it only took six weeks to heal, although
he was obliged to keep to his bed for two months,
when he regained the use of his legs. During all
this time he did not make a single allusion to the
past. Cartouche was dead quite dead. The
operation had been successful, although very pain-
ful. So much so, that every one dreaded that he
would remain a cripple to the end of his life; but
he had recovered marvelously. He had obtained
a new set of teeth, and was able to speak quite
plainly, but it was a more difficult thing to rid
himself of the effects of the boiling water in his
ears, and at times he was perfectly deaf.
After a while Theophraste thought of occupy-
ing his mind by going back into business. He
had retired when young, being able to live on the
income derived from several inventions which he
had made for the use of rubber stamps.
201
THE DOUBLE LIFE
However, they were all very thankful for the
result, and this slight inconvenience did not worry
them.
It was his habit to rise early, and after break-
fast he would go out for a little walk to strengthen
his legs. He soon found their old elasticity, and
regained their full use. On these occasions
Adolphe used to follow a short distance behind
in order to watch his movements and report to M.
Eliphaste.
At first he noticed nothing abnormal in his be-
havior, and in his report contented himself with
stating this unimportant fact, that he stopped
quite a while before a butcher's stall. If this had
occurred only once, it would have passed the watch-
ful Adolphe unnoticed. However, it became a
regular thing for Theophraste to stand looking
at the bloody meat, and spend some time talking
to the butcher, a square-shouldered, florid fellow,
always ready with a jest.
One day, when M. Lecamus had decided that
Theophraste had spent too much time at the
butcher's shop, he came up to him, as if by chance,
and found him, with the butcher, decorating all
the fresh meat with curl papers. This was inno-
cent enough. Thus judged M. Eliphaste, al-
though he wrote in the margin of the report:
VISITS TO A BUTCHER 203
"He may look at the meat in the butcher's shop.
It is good to let him see blood sometimes. It is
the end of the crisis, and can do no harm."
This butchery was a small one, and had its spe-
cialty. M. Houdry sold among other ordinary
meats a special quality of veal. The secret of
this quality lay in the way it was killed. The
majority of Paris butchers obtain their meat from
the abattoirs, but M. Houdry always bought his
alive, and killed it himself, in his own way. He
was not satisfied to knock the calf in the head, as
they did at the abattoirs. He bled it after the
Jewish manner, with a large knife which he called
the bleeder, and so dexterous had he become in
this art that he never had to cut the same wound
twice. He had gained some reputation as a good
butcher.
M. Houdry had explained the case about his
veal to M. Longuet, with the greatest mystery,
and he had evidently taken great pleasure in it
so much so that Theophraste, after having lis-
tened to the theory, had shown the desire to assist
at a practical lesson. In a small court adjacent
to the store, M. Houdry had a secret abattoir.
On a certain morning, Theophraste, who happened
there at a much earlier hour than was his custom,
found his man at the abattoir with a calf. The
204 THE DOUBLE LIFE
butcher begged him to come in, and to close the
doors behind him. "I shut myself up every day
thus with a live calf," said M. Houdry, "and
when the doors of the abattoir are opened again,
the calf is dead. I lose no time; I have operated
in twenty-five minutes."
Theophraste congratulated him. He asked him
many questions, interesting himself in all the ob-
jects which struck his attention. The bellows
with its large arms drew his attention. He also
saw a windlass. He learned that that strong
oak cross-bar, with pegs in it, supported the wind-
lass and the bucket. He admired the solid oak
hand-barrow also. A chopper which was drawn
up was called a "leaf." But that which interested
him more was a set of tools hung on the walls in
the shop. In this "shop," which was sort of
saddle-bags for cutlass, he saw first of all the
bleeder, and was pleased to pass his finger over the
long, strong and sharpened edge. Then there
was a much smaller knife, called the "Moutoniner,"
used ordinarily to cut up mutton, as the name
indicates, but which was used there to cut certain
parts of veal. Then some other small knives,
among which was the canut, used in "flowering"
the veal. "Flowering" the veal consists in making
VISITS TO A BUTCHER 205
light, artistic designs on the shin of the veal, as
soon as it is bleached.
The first day M. Longuet received instructions
about the tools. But in the following days he
learned the art of the whole operation, and entered
into each detail with little repugnance. He used
to say, some days, in going away, jestingly: "You
kill a calf every day ; you must be careful, my
dear M. Houdry, you see it will end by its becom-
ing known to the other calves."
Theophraste was not idle, either. Whenever
he had an opportunity he would help M. Houdry
in these killings. One day the assistant did not
come, and Theophraste helped rope up the calf
for killing. As he was doing this, M. Houdry
remarked on the evil of killing the calf by striking
him on the head, as they did at the abattoir.
Theophraste declared it was a crime, and most
inhuman. "It is much finer to do it with the
bleeder. One blow is sufficient, and the head is
off. What a fine death. How the blood flows, and
with what dispatch does he die."
"Ah," said Theophraste, who had killed the
calf, "see the calf's eyes, as the blood flows. How
they stare at you. They are dead, but they look
at you !"
"What is the matter with the calf's eyes?"
206 THE DOUBLE LIFE
demanded M. Houdry. "They are like the rest.
Ah, you think it is a joke? Well, well, you are
not so used to it as I."
M. Houdry then prepared the meat for selling,
and while he was doing so Theophraste took the
head, cleaned it and cut out the eyes. The sight
of the blood had excited him beyond control, and
M. Houdry was amused when he desired to take
the head and feet home with him.
In parting he said: "Au revoir, M. Houdry,
au revoir. I will take the head away with me, but
I leave you the eyes. I do not like eyes to stare
at me. You must not laugh at me, though. You
do not understand me. However, it is my affair,
and you must be glad that you are not afraid
of dead eyes staring at you."
And so he returned home, and when he appeared
at the door of his house with the calf's head under
his arm, Adolphe and Marceline smiled, saying:
"He is amusing himself with some innocent prank."
CHAPTER XXIII
A "Newspaper Report
IT had become their habit in the Longuet flat to
play dominoes in the evening. M. Adolphe
was a good player, and always he used the Nor-
man provincial names. When he played the double
six, he would call the "double negro" ; the five was
"the dog that bites," and so on. Marceline was
always amused by these terms, and was always
ready to play.
It happened on this particular evening that
Theophraste lost his game, and after a short
argument he began to sulk, and refused to play
more. Seating himself in a chair near the window,
he began reading the paper. He had strong
political opinions.
Suddenly he was attracted by a strange head-
line. He read it and re-read it, and could not
resist an exclamation, "Strange! Is not Car-
touche dead, then?"
207
208 THE DOUBLE LIFE
He could not help smiling. This hypothesis was
so absurd. Then he ran over the first lines of the
article and said: "My dear Adolphe, have you
read this article? 'Is not Cartouche dead, then?'
It is a strange, a surprising article."
Adolphe and Marceline could hardly prevent a
start, and looked at him with uneasiness.
Theophraste began to read the article aloud,
as follows:
" 'For some days the police have been occupy-
ing themselves with one of the greatest of mys-
teries that have occurred in Paris, and with a
series of odd crimes. They are endeavoring to
hide from the public the most curious sides. Those
crimes and the manner in which their perpetrator
escapes from the police at the moment they think
they have him, recall, point by point, the manner
in which the celebrated Cartouche committed his
crimes. If he was not enacting a thing so repre-
hensible, one could admire the perfect art with
which the model is imitated. It is Cartouche to
a finish! The police themselves have never dealt
with a more mysterious bandit. Nevertheless, the
administration, very mysteriously, but, we admit,
very intelligently, has sent by some of them an
abstract of Cartouche's history, compiled from
the manuscripts of the National Libraries. They
A NEWSPAPER REPORT 209
thought, subtly, that the history of Cartouche
would be useful to them, not only in the present
task, which is to prevent the criminal outrages
of the new Cartouche, and to arrest him, but also
that Cartouche's history ought to form a part
of the general instruction to all the agents of
police.
" 'Finally the news was brought to us that M.
Lepine, Prefect of Police, has ordered them to
devote several evenings in the Prefecture to listen
to lectures on the authentic history of the illus-
trious bandit.'
"What do you say to that?" demanded Theo-
phraste with merriment. "It is a merry farce, and
the journalists are great fellows to issue such
fibs. 5 '
Neither Adolphe nor Marceline smiled. Mar-
celine's voice trembled slightly when she begged
Theophraste to continue. He began to read again
quietly :
" 'The first crime of the new Cartouche did
not at all present the horror that we shall find in
some of the others. It was a polite crime. Let
us say at once that all the crimes of which we
have any knowledge, and which they attribute to
the new Cartouche, have been accomplished in the
last fifteen days, at the North, and always from
#10 THE DOUBLE LIFE
eleven o'clock in the evening to four o'clock in the
morning.' "
Mme. Longuet rose, very pale. M. Lecamus
made her sit down again, by a knowing skake of
the head, and commanded her to be silent.
Theophraste said: "What is this that they
want to tell with their new Cartouche? As for
me, I only know the old one. After all, let's see
the gallant polite crime," and he read it over
more and more calmly:
' 'A pretty woman, well known in Paris, where
her literary salon is frequented by all those who
interest themselves with debates and with matters
spiritualistic, was proceeding, toward morning,
with her toilette for bed, and preparing to take a
well-earned rest, following the fatigue which had
wearied her that evening there with the disorder
of a conference at home of the most illustrious
of our pneumatics, when suddenly the casement
of her balcony was opened quickly by a man with
a figure a little over the medium, still young and
vigorous (this last is in the report of the police),
but with perfectly white hair. He had in his hand
a brilliant nickel revolver.
" ' "Madame," said he to the terrified woman,
"compose yourself. I do not wish to do you any
evil. Consider me the most humble of your serv-
A NEWSPAPER REPORT
ants. My name is Louis Dominique Cartouche,
and I have no other ambition than to sup at your
side. By the tripes of Mme. de Phalaris, I have
the hunger of all the devils!" and he began to
laugh.
" 'Mme. de B. let us call her Mme. de B.
believed that she was dealing with a crazy man,
but he declared he was only determined to take
supper with her, which peculiar favor he had long
desired. That man was much more dangerous
than a crazy man, for it might be necessary to
kill him on account of the brilliantly nickeled
revolver.
ci "Go," said the man, "and call your people,
and tell them to bring here to you a good supper.
Do not give them a single explanation which
would be likely to cause me any embarrassment
or trouble, for if you do you will be a dead
woman."
" 'Mme. de B. then took her departure, for she
was brave, with a mind sufficiently elevated to en-
able her to face the most unexpected adventures.
She rang for the chambermaid, and a quarter of
an hour later the man with the white hair and
Mme. de B. were seated opposite each other in
proper style, and apparently the best of friends.
The supper was prolonged through the night (we
THE DOUBLE LIFE
do not wish to affirm anything as to this point,
which is so interesting but are a little skeptical
as to the veracity of this story), so that the man
did not descend by the sheet from the balcony
until about sunrise. The beautiful Mme. de B.
had not had supper, and so she did not complain
about that forced supper, which she ended by
partaking of in very good grace, nor had she
seen the necessity of reporting her adventure to
the Police Commissioner. And we see what the
circumstances were. Some days later the Com-
missioner was announced at Mme. de B.'s. He
told her that the ring that she wore on her finger,
in which a magnificent diamond glittered, was the
property of Mile. Emily de Bescancon. Mme. de B.
was of course ignorant of its value or where it
came from. It had been presented to her. But
Mile. Emily de Besancon, who had seen it on the
finger of Mme. de B. the day before at a charity
sale, claimed it formally as hers. She had fur-
nished all sorts of proofs of it, and the diamond
was set in such a unique way that there could be
no doubt of it. Mme. de B. was infinitely troubled,
and was obliged to relate the adventure which had
befallen her. She spoke of the unknown, of the
balcony, of the supper, of the gratitude he had
shown her for his supper, and his placing the
A NEWSPAPER REPORT 213
magnificent diamond on her finger, which he had
obtained, he said, from a woman he had loved
very much, a Mme. de Phalaris, who had been
dead for some time. Mme. de B. could not be sus-
pected. She furnished a proof the nickel-plated
revolver that the unknown had left on the table
that night. Finally she begged the Commissioner
of Police to take away from her house the hundred
bottles of champagne of every choice brand that
the unknown had sent to her the day after the
eventful night, under the pretext that the supper
had been exquisite, and that the only thing that
could have been desired was champagne. She
feared that the champagne, as well as the ring,
had been stolen. The Commissioner acquitted the
beautiful Mme. de B. He could do nothing at
the time, the news being in everybody's mouth, as
the world at large would henceforth interest itself
in the new Cartouche.
" 'This little adventure, which is the least im-
portant of those we have to relate, is the repro-
duction of what happened on the night of the 13th
of July, 1721, at the house of Mme. la Marechale
de Boufflers. She also was occupied in making her
toilette. The young man, who came unexpectedly
by way of the balcony, had no revolver in his hand,
but he carried six English pistols. He demanded
THE DOUBLE LIFE
supper after presenting himself as Louis Domi-
nique Cartouche, and the widow of Louis Francis,
Duke of Boufflers, peer and Marshal of France,
one of the heirs of Lille and of Malplaquet, supped
with Cartouche, and late at night.
" 'Cartouche only complained of the champagne,
and Mme. de Boufflers received a hundred bottles
of it the next day. She had them taken, by her
butler Patapon, into the cellars of a great
financier.
" 'Some time after that one of Cartouche's
bands stopped an equipage in the streets of Paris.
Cartouche leaned into the carriage to recognize
the faces. It was Mme. la Marechale de Bouf-
flers. He turned toward his people. "Give them
liberty to pass on, now and always, Mme. de la
Marechale de Boufflers !" ordered he in a ringing
voice, and he bowed very low to the Marechale,
after he had slipped on her finger a magnificent
diamond that he had probably stolen from Mme.
de Phalaris. M me. de Phalaris never saw it again.
" 'Now let us pass on to the crime in the Rue
du Bac.' "
CHAPTER XXIV
The Murder m the Rue Guenegaud,
MARCELINE got up as much to hide her
feelings as to find out if the nickel-plated
revolver was in its usual place in the drawer.
Upon her return she was greatly agitated, and
told them that the revolver had been removed.
Theophraste advised her to calm herself, say-
ing there was nothing of importance in that ; and
he proceeded to read about the crime in the Rue
du Bac, saying that the journalist who wrote the
narrative was more intelligent, and had made his
report more interesting than the first one.
"However," said he, "there are a few inaccu-
racies and omissions in his narrative. Accord-
ing to him one is led to think that Cartouche in-
dulged in amorous proceedings with Mme. de
Bithigne after supper. However, such a thing
should not be allowed to get abroad, as no such
thing happened. He had no other intention than
to take supper with the lady.
215
216 THE DOUBLE LIFE
"Why, my dear Marceline, if I had intended
otherwise, my reputation would have suffered, and
Mme. la Marechale de Boufflers would have scorned
me when I met her on July 13th, 1721.
"These gentlemen also relate that I outraged
Mme. la Marechale de Boufflers. This is all wrong.
I am very fond of her on account of her intellect,
and our intercourse was most polite, as well as
virtuous. If they had only studied more, these
journalists would have known that Madame in
1721 was over sixty years old, and I dare say
Cartouche knew many younger women to play
such tricks on."
Theophraste then took up the paper:
" 'The history of the Rue du Bac is much more
simple. The Prefect of Police had received a
note which ran : "If you dare, come and find me ;
I am always at the inn in the Rue du Bac, with
Bernard." It was signed "Cartouche." The thing
had occurred after Mme. de Bithigne had told her
story. The Prefect thought over his case and
laid his plans.
" 'That same evening, a quarter of an hour
after midnight, half a dozen policemen raided
the tavern in the Rue du Bac. They were met on
the stairs by a man, who, although still young,
had perfectly white hair. He was endowed with
THE MURDER 217
almost superhuman strength, and, on seeing the
police, he picked up a chair near by and started
striking them. Three of them were stunned, and
the others only just had time to drag the pros-
trated bodies of their companions into the street
to prevent them from being burned by a fire
started on the first landing by this man with white
hair. The man saved himself by jumping from
roof to roof over spaces more than thirty feet
high.
" 'The new Cartouche,' continued Theophraste,
amid the scared silence of Marceline and M. Le-
camus, 'the new Cartouche has taken possession
of the Rue Guenegaud. Several days ago they
found in a vault-like passage there under the floor
the body of a young doctor, who had been active
at the death of Mme. de Bardinoldi, the mystery of
which had baffled the police and press. The police
had not confided to any one the fact that pinned to
the young doctor's tunic was a card on which some
one had written in pencil: "We will meet each
other in the other world, M. de Traneuse." This
was without doubt a crime of the new Cartouche,
for the old one did in fact assassinate at this
place an engineer named Traneuse. Cartouche
had knocked him on the head with a stick, and the
218 THE DOUBLE LIFE
young doctor had had his skull fractured with a
blunt instrument.' '
Theophraste laid down the paper, and, looking
at Adolphe and Marceline, remarked that they
both looked as if they were expecting a like
catastrophe.
"Why, my dear Adolphe," said he, "it is ridicu-
lous for you to be angry at such pleasantries. I
take the opportunity of telling you that I often
frequent the Rue Guenegaud. That history of
M. de Traneuse was to me the beginning of one of
the prettiest farces that ever I played with M.
d'Argenson's spies. Following the death of M. de
Traneuse (who had allowed some very improper
talk about me), I was followed by two patrols of
the guard, who covered me and rendered all re-
sistance impossible. But they were ignorant that
I was Cartouche, and satisfied themselves by con-
ducting me to the Ford 1'Avegne, which was the
easiest prison in Paris. In this prison they put
debtors, drunks, and disorderly people, and the
people who have not paid their fines. They were
sure that they had taken Cartouche on the 10th
of January, but on the evening of the 9th Car-
touche had made his escape, and took the direction
of his police. It was time, for everybody was now
searching the streets of Paris.
THE MURDER 219
"My dear Marceline, and my dear Adolphe, you
look as if you were at a funeral. That article
does not lose its quota of a certain amount of
wit. At first I thought it only the j est of a cheap
journalist, but I see now that it is very serious,
believe me. Wait for the history of the calf ! Ah !
We have not done yet with the affair of the Petits
Augustines ! Listen !"
Theophraste picked up his paper, adjusted his
gold spectacles, and began again:
" 'That which was the most extraordinary in
this adventure was that several times during light
days they have been on the point of capturing this
modern Cartouche, and that he always escaped
just as the other did, by way of the chimneys.
History teaches us that the true Cartouche de-
signed on the llth of June, 1721, to sack the
Hotel Desmarets, Rue des Petits Augustines. It
was one of his men, Le Ratichon, who had given
him the idea. But Cartouche and Le Ratichon
had been imprisoned by the police. As soon as
Cartouche was in the house, the bailiffs hastened
there and the place was invaded. He tranquilly
closed the doors of the salons and extinguished the
lights, undressed himself, climbed into the chim-
ney, descended by another way into the kitchen,
where he found a scullion, killed the scullion, dis-
THE DOUBLE LIFE
guised himself with the dead man's clothes, and
went out in fine form from the hotel, killing two
bailiffs with two pistol shots because they asked
him news of Cartouche. Well, what will you say
when you know that our Cartouche was surround-
ed the day before yesterday in a confectioner's
shop in a quarter of the Augustines, escaped by the
chimney, after having put on over all his effects, to
prevent soiling them, the pastry cook's blouse,
which had been found on the roofs, also his panta-
loons. As to the pastry cook, they found him
half buried in his bake oven. But, before putting
him there, as a humane precaution, the murderer,
Cartouche, had assassinated him.' '
Here Theophraste, interrupting himself again,
cried :
"Previously, previously. I had previously as-
sassinated him. . . . But why do you fly into the
corners? Are you afraid? Let us see, my dear
Adolphe, my dear Marceline, a little coolness
you will need it for the history of the calf."
CHAPTER XXV
The Calfs Revenge
NEVER had Mme. Longuet or M. Lecamus
been so upset before at the reading of a
newspaper. The account of the atrocious murder
did not seem to disturb Theophraste a bit. When
he came to the part where Cartouche had placed
the baker in the bake oven, Mme. Longuet groaned
and could not sit still. M. Lecamus was no less
disturbed, and they both rose and looked to Theo-
phraste in amazement.
He then began to read the account of M.
Houdry's calf:
" 6 M. Houdry was a head butcher on one of
the small streets. Everybody came to him to buy
veal, which was his specialty. This report ex-
plained itself by a fact so unusual that we can
believe it only on the affirmation of M. le Com-
missioner of Police Mifroid, who conducted the
first inquest. We know that all the butchers of
221
THE DOUBLE LIFE
Paris get their meat from the abattoirs. It was
against the law for them to kill anything at home.'
"That is accurate," said Theophraste, "that is
exactly right; M. Houdry explained that to me
several times, and the confidence that he placed
in me by telling me the mystery of his abattoir
astonished me not a little. Why should he con-
fide to me a fact which was not known to his wife,
his private clerk, a foundling whom he considered
as one of the family, and his brother-in-law, who
brought the calf to him each night? Why? Ah!
No one knows. Perhaps it was because he couldn't
help it. You know very well that no one can
escape his fate. As for me, I said to him : 'Take
care, you might end by being one of the calves!'
I resume my reading: 'That calf was brought to
him secretly each night by his brother-in-law, and
as his abattoir was on a little court, behind which
was the open country, no one ever saw a live calf
at M. Houdry's.
" 'The inquest will tell us from whence the calf
came. M. Mifroid, the Commissioner of Police,
has decided to sift the matter to the bottom, and
penetrate the whole mystery.
" 'It appears that M. Houdry had his special
way of killing his calf, a way that gave quality
THE CALF'S REVENGE
to the veal. He used to cut the calf's throat with
a bleeder.'
"Is it necessary for me," said Theophraste, "to
show you what a bleeder is ?"
Going to the drawer of the sideboard, he took
out the carving knife, and while explaining that a
bleeder was twice as large as that, he passed it
up and down M. Lecamus' face to make him un-
derstand the method of killing the calf. He tried
to get M. Lecamus to hold the knife, but by this
time he was too frightened, and had retreated into
a corner of the room, fearing that Theophraste
would do something violent. However, he laughed
at their temerity and sat down to read the further
account.
" 'Yesterday, leaving early, monsieur shut him-
self in his abattoir as usual with his calf. He was
aided by his clerk in tying the calf to the hanger.
The calf being tied, the clerk busied himself in
rinsing the casks before the abattoir, which the
butcher always kept shut when killing.
" 'Ordinarily, M. Houdry took from twenty to
thirty minutes to kill his calf, gut it and bleach
it. Thirty-five minutes passed, and the double
doors of the abattoir were not opened. The clerk,
who had finished rinsing, noticed it with the great-
est astonishment. Often M. Houdry had called
THE DOUBLE LIFE
him to scald the head, scrape the hairs off, and
clean the ears. That particular day his master
did not call him. Meanwhile, Mme. Houdry, the
butcher's wife, appeared at the door of the court.
" * "What is the matter there?" she asked. "Is
he not finished yet?"
" ' "It is true, madame, he is a very long time."
"'Then she called, "Houdry! Houdry!" No
response. She crossed the court and opened the
abattoir door. The calf immediately escaped, and
began gracefully jumping around her. She looked
at the calf at once with emotion, for at that time
the calf should have been dead. Then she struck
a single blow on the double door, and called again
to her husband, who did not answer her. She
turned toward the clerk. "M. Houdry is not
there," she said. "Are you sure he has not gone
out?"
" ' "Oh, madame, I am perfectly sure of it. He
has not come out and no one has gone in. I have
not left the court," replied the clerk, springing
at the calf's head as it continued running around.
"I am sure he is there. He is just hiding to
frighten you."
" 4 "It will be better to hide the calf. Houdry !
Houdry!"
" 'The clerk, with a turn of the halter, had tied
THE CALF'S REVENGE 225
the calf. Entering with Mme. Houdry he uttered
a cry of surprise and said: "Oh, that is queer!
When we came in there was only one calf, a single
calf, madame, a calf which was tied to the hanger,
and which gambols in the court now, and here
is another calf on the crossbeam." Yes, indeed,
there was another calf on the tinel.
" ' "I see it now," said Mme. Houdry. "What
a small calf ! But you are foolish ; there should
be two calves."
" ' "Never, madame, never."
" ' "Well, you see perfectly the calf on the
beam?"
" 'The little clerk and Mme. Houdry drew near
to the beam, which was in the shadow, and how
astonished they were to see the kind of white meat
which was hanging from the beam. They had
never seen such white meat, and this meat was
arranged exactly like the calf's. They accounted
for this finally by deciding that it was not veal
meat.
" ' "What a curious calf," the clerk continued
to repeat.
" ' "It is not a small calf," said Mme. Houdry.
"No ! no !"
" ' "All the same, madame, they have decorated
the skin on the stomach with the lancet. See!
226 THE DOUBLE LIFE
What pretty patterns! There are two hearts,
some arrows, some flowers. . . . Ah! those
beautiful flowers." The clerk raised up the lungs
from which hung the heart.
"'"It is a beautiful pluck," said he, "and
has not been trufled. The heart is good."
" ' "Yes, he had a good heart !" groaned Mme.
Houdry, who was all at once terrified at what she
had said.
" 'Thereupon the clerk began to weep, and with-
out knowing why, dipped his hands in a pail of
cold water which was placed beside the boiler,
looking for the head of the animal, and he drew
out a head. But when she saw the head, Mme.
Houdry fainted, for she had recognized the head
of her husband.
" 'Mme. Houdry had immediately recognized
her husband's head, and the clerk himself exam-
ined it more closely, to be sure that it was the
head of his master. It was a well-cut head well
refined, well scalded, well scraped. The mous-
tache and hair had been shaved, as they should be,
and but for something unforeseen, if need be, the
head of the butcher would have passed for the
head of a calf.
" 'The clerk in his turn fainted, and let the
head of M. Houdry roll away.
THE CALF'S REVENGE 227
" 'Some minutes later the tragedy was discov-
ered, judging from the disturbance in the quarter.'
"The journalist," said Theophraste, "was not
of the opinion that the calf had decapitated the
butcher, and that also was put before Cartouche's
name that poor Cartouche." He shrugged his
shoulders once more, and then, having raised his
eyes above the paper, he sought in the two corners
of the dining-room, where M. Lecamus and his
wife had taken refuge. They had disappeared.
He called them and they did not answer. He tried
to open the door of the landing, and it would not
open. He then rushed to the chimney, which was
large enough for him to get up, and scaled it
with the same facility as he had descended the
chimney when the boiler was beginning to boil at
M. Houdry's, the same morning that he had decapi-
tated that unfortunate man.
CHAPTER XXVI
Theophraste Again Hears of His Treasures
fin HE clamber over the roofs of the Rue Ge-
* rondo on a cold rainy night had a physical
and moral effect on Theophraste. He had taken
cold and was suffering in consequence. From a
moral point of view it had made him change his
whole view of these events. While he had been
reading the accounts of these crimes with which
the new Cartouche had been terrifying Paris, he
had shown a callous indifference, but now he com-
menced to hold himself responsible for many of
the atrocities, and especially for the murder of
M. Houdry, which he had before facetiously
blamed on the calf.
He often recalled nocturnal visits by the route
he was now following, and several bloody crimes
came back to his memory, disgusting him, and
making him weep bitter tears of useless remorse.
It was, however, too late. In spite of all his
228
THEOPHRASTE'S TREASURES
sufferings, in spite of M. de la Nox's invocations,
and the torture they had submitted him to, Car-
touche was not dead.
And that evening, then, like many other criminal
evenings, he led his damned soul over the roofs of
Paris. He wept. He cursed that mysterious, ir-
resistible force, which from the depths of cen-
turies commanded him to kill. He cursed the
influence which made him kill. He thought of
his wife of Adolphe. He bitterly regretted the
hours of passed happiness between those two be-
ings so dear to him. He excused them for running
away. He pardoned them for their terror. He
resolved never again to trouble their peaceful days
with his bloody incoherencies. "Let me disap-
pear," he said to himself. "Let me hide my shame
and my original defect in the midst of the desert.
They will forget me. I shall forget myself. Let
me profit by these logical moments, when my brain,
released momentarily from the Other, discusses,
weighs, deduces, and concludes and sees in the
present."
It was not Cartouche who spoke, it was Theo-
phraste, who cried to Cartouche: "Let us fly!
Since I love Marceline, let us fly! Since I love
Adolphe, let us fly! One day they will be happy
without me! There is no longer happiness with
230 THE DOUBLE LIFE
me ! Adieu ! adieu ! Marceline, adored woman,
faithful wife! Farewell, Adolphe, precious, con-
soling friend! Farewell! Theophraste tells you
farewell!" He wept. Then he said aloud: "I
come, Cartouche!"
Then he plunged into the darkness, going from
gutter to gutter, from roof to roof, sliding from
high walls with safety, protected, like a somnambu-
list, by Providence.
And now who is that man who, with his head
lowered, his back curved, his hands in his pockets,
swayed like a poor wretch in the wind and rain
which fell profusely all the tedious way? He fol-
lowed the road which skirts the railroad. It is
a straight road, bordered by small, weak trees,
plain common broom-straw sad ornaments for
a departmental road running along the side of
the railroad. Whence comes this man, with his
hands in his pockets, or, rather, this shade of a
man? The plain extends to the right and the left
without an undulation, without the rising of a
hillock, without the hollow of a riser. All this
can be seen, for this is not a night scene; it is
broad daylight, on the track, straight on by the
side of the road.
Trains pass each other from time to time, local
trains, fast trains, freight trains, rattling along
THEOPHRASTE'S TREASURES
with an occasional ceasing when one hears in the
wind the ting, ting, ting of the bell of the disks at
the station. There is one station before, and one
behind. They are small stations, and are five kilo-
meters apart. Between the two stations there is
a straight double track, but no viaduct, no tunnel,
no bridge, not even a culvert.
As I said before, from whence came the sad
shade of a man?
It is Theophraste. He has resolved to fly no
matter where far from his wife.
After a night passed from gutter to gutter,
not knowing where to direct his steps, and not
caring at all, he goes into a railway station. He
gets into a train without a ticket, gets out of the
train at another station.
How often does it happen that the control
registers of railway stations are badly made on
account of the number of travelers.
Behold him, then, on the road at the entrance
of a village which follows the railroad track. And
who is it that watches him as he crosses the thresh-
old of a little house at the entrance of a village?
Mme. Petito herself !
It was the first time that Mme. Petito had seen
M. Longuet since he cut off the ears of her
husband. Upon seeing him, Mme. Petito became
THE DOUBLE LIFE
highly indignant, and commenced upbraiding
Theophraste.
After all sorts of imprecations the result of
the barbarity of Theophraste Mme. Petito in-
formed Theophraste that Signer Petito had found
the treasures of the Chopinettes, that he had put
them in a safe place, and that the treasures were
the richest on earth, treasures which were worth
more than two ears. They were as good as the
ears of Signor Petito, and so they were quits.
Theophraste, in the course of this discourse,
found it difficult to say very much, but this did
not disturb him. He was glad of the anger of
Mme. Petito, for having furnished him with such
valuable information, and he said : "I have found
my treasures, for I have found Signor Petito
again."
Mme. Petito burst into satanic laughter.
"Signor Petito," she exclaimed, "is in the train."
"In which train?"
"In the train which will pass under your very
nose ! It will carry my husband beyond the fron-
tier. Get in, then, my dear monsieur ; climb in if
you wish to speak to him. But hurry, for he
passes by in an hour, and they do not distribute
tickets at the next station," and her laugh became
more satanic still, so much so that Theophraste
THEOPHRASTE'S TREASURES 233
almost wished that he was deaf again. He saluted
her and walked away rapidly along the railroad
track. When he was alone he said : "Come, come !
I must get some information about my treasures
from Signor Petito himself. But how? He is
in the train which will pass under my nose. . . .'*
CHAPTER XXVII
The Express Train's Disappearance
IT is necessary now for us to relate the extraor-
dinary events which happened on the railway.
At this part of the track, which is double, there
were two stations about four miles apart, through
which the express trains ran quite frequently. In
the evening after Theophraste had been speaking
to Mme. Petito, the express train had passed
through the first station, and the station master
was waiting for the signal from the second sta-
tion, when suddenly a message came through say-
ing that the train had not arrived yet. The
station master could not understand it. The train
had passed through his station fifteen minutes
before, and would not have taken all that time to
go the short distance to the other station. He
went out and looked up the track. There was
no sign of the train, and all was quiet. Again
the signal came back, and the second station master
234
THE EXPRESS TRAIN 235
said that he would walk along the track to see if
he could find the cause of the delay. The first
man said he would do the same, and they both
started running down the track, followed by other
men in the stations. Although it was broad day-
light, nothing could be seen of the train, and
the two parties met on the track. The first station
master was greatly agitated, and wrung his hands
in despair. He knew the train had passed through
his station. He was sure of it. The report of
his assistant confirmed it. Where could it have
disappeared to? The excitement and fear was
too much for him, and without any warning he
fell dead at their feet with heart failure.
The men ran hither, thither, on both sides of
the tracks, but no sign of the train was there.
At last they gave up the search, and placing the
dead body of the station master on a rough bier
of sticks and leaves, they made their way sadly
back to the station.
They had not gone far when one of the party
cried out : "Look ahead, there's the train !"
And there, a few yards outside the station, on
the very track they had traveled on, was a wagon
and baggage car of the disappeared train!
They were all very astonished, and were run-
ning, shouting, toward the train, when they sud-
236 THE DOUBLE LIFE
denly stopped. Peering out of the doors of
the train was a peculiar head. It had no ears,
and appeared as though the door had been shut
violently, catching the man's neck. They called
to him as soon as they saw him, but he did not
answer. The head just swayed from one side
to the other, rocked by the wind, which was blow-
ing in great gusts. Upon the head was curly
hair, and the cravat around the white neck was
untied, floating in the wind.
On approaching, they saw the door of the coach
was covered with blood, and on examination saw
that the man's head was held to the door by a piece
of rag. He had evidently opened the door and
poked his head out, when somebody must have
shut the door again and decapitated him. The
two men who carried the dead body of the station
master uttered a cry of dismay, and placing their
burden on the track, made an examination of the
trucks. They found no one in the first one, and
opening the door of the second, found that it
was empty save for the dead man's body, which
had been stripped of all its clothing.
The news of this fantastic horror spread rapidly
in the villages on the road, and an enormous crowd
gathered at the little station.
The police were sent for, but they were unable
THE EXPRESS TRAIN 237
to get any clue as to who the strange man was,
or where the train with all its travelers had gone
to.
They were, however, very quiet about it, and
only at the inquest did the facts become known.
As it has been said, the tracks between these
stations contained no bridge or tunnel, but ran
through a flat, desolate country, marked by no
hills. The only thing to break the line of the
track was a short side line which ran into a dis-
used quarry, which had been used as a sand quarry
by a glassmaker. This had been abandoned many
years ago, and had not been used since.
On looking at the plan one would at once think
that the presence of this branch line was an ex-
planation of the train disaster. But this was
not so, as subsequent events will prove. In fact,
so simple a solution of the problem would soon
have been discovered by the station men.
Wandering along the road which followed the
track, Theophraste had noticed the little side
track, and he had seen that the switch had been
left unlocked. This would have had no signifi-
cance to him before he had the interview with Mme.
Petito, but now he saw an excellent opportunity
of getting at Signor Petito, who was on the train.
He of course could not get on the train while it
THE DOUBLE LIFE
was in motion. He would open the switch and
wait for the train to come up. The engineer
would be sure to see it and stop his train. Here
was his opportunity.
This was simple enough, and he did as he in-
tended. He turned the switch, and, going along
the track, hid behind the bushes to await the ex-
press. He waited and waited for a long time,
but no express came. He became impatient, and
looked up and down the track, hoping to hear it,
or see its smoke.
However, after half an hour, he rose, and, al-
though tired of waiting, went down the track to
see what had happened. He had gone about half
the distance to the station, when he met a train-
fitter who was going along the track to look for
the train. Asking him what had become of the
train, he turned back up the line, and arriving
at the point where he had been hiding, he discov-
ered the baggage car and carriage which were to
be found a few minutes later by the trainmen
from the station.
In his astonishment he asked how they could
have got there without passing him. He had not
left the track, so it could not have passed him.
Suddenly he saw the head of a man at the car-
riage door ; the head had no ears, and so he quickly
THE EXPRESS TRAIN 239
recognized it as that of Signer Petito. He
climbed up into the carriage, all excitement, and
searching the carriage, suddenly had an idea. He
would disguise himself in Signor Petito's clothes !
He quickly undressed, and stripping the dead
body of all its clothes put them on, and tied his
own up in a bundle. He then descended from the
carriage, and fumbling in the pockets of the dead
man's clothes, drew out an old pocketbook. He
became feverishly excited as he searched through
the papers, seeking some trace of his treasures.
But he found nothing, and he found it difficult
to hide his disappointment, for Signor Petito had
carried the secret of the treasure to the grave.
Mme. Petito was unable to give him any infor-
mation, for soon after hearing of her husband's
death she became insane, and remained so to the
end of her days.
CHAPTER XXVIII
Not To Be Explained!
A S Theophraste was searching through the
** pocketbook of Signor Petito, he had wan-
dered unconsciously away from the track into
the fields. Upon returning, he was astonished to
find the carriage had disappeared. He looked
up and down the track, but could find no trace of
it. Which was the most astonishing, the disap-
pearance or the apparition of the train? He
could not make it out, and the events had thrown
him into a state bordering on prostration.
He went down the track, examined the switch,
and put it back in its original position and locked
it, taking the key with him.
He walked on to the upper station, but with
the exception of the signalman everybody had gone
out in search of the train. He interrogated him,
but could only learn that the train had been re-
ported but never came.
240
NOT TO BE EXPLAINED!
Theophraste insisted. "They certainly did re-
port the express to you from the preceding sta-
tion?"
"Yes, sir. I am certain. Look at my signal.
It is still put to allow the train to pass. The
station master and all the men of the station pre-
ceding saw the express pass and telegraphed to
us. In short, monsieur, you see my little yellow
arm. A catastrophe between the preceding station
and this one is not possible; there is not a single
bridge or viaduct. I was mounted on the ladder
that you see leaning against that great vat. From
there one can see the whole line, as far as the
other station. I saw our people gesticulating on
the line, but did not see the train."
"Strange, very strange !"
"Yes, indeed. You must trust my little yellow
arm."
"Inexplicable."
"There is nothing more inexplicable."
"There are things more inexplicable still than
that which have happened."
"What, then?"
"A carriage without a locomotive appeared and
disappeared, and no one could tell from whence it
came. It disappeared, as it appeared. . . . Did you
THE DOUBLE LIFE
not see a carriage with a man at the door pass
by here?"
"Monsieur," said the signalman angrily, "you
mock me! You are exaggerating because you
do not believe the story of the express which did
not come. But look, monsieur, at my signal ; that
is proof enough. It cannot make a mistake."
M. Longuet replied to the signalman : "If you
did not see the express, neither did I."
In that "neither did I" commenced the inward
thoughts of M. Longuet, who went away in Signor
Petito's clothes. M. Longuet had an idea. His
misfortune was so extreme and so incurable that he
resolved to die for the others. With a little cun-
ning this was possible, since he had reclothed him-
self in Signor Petito's clothes. Nothing would
hinder him from leaving his on the bank of the
first river he came to.
This would constitute a suicidal act, according
to the law.
M. Longuet was moved to the thought of ad-
dressing a letter to Marceline and Adolphe. On
the banks of what river would he put his clothes?
How could he re-enter Paris? However, these
thoughts passed through his head momentarily,
for there was only one thing which was really of
NOT TO BE EXPLAINED!
importance to him, and that was the explanation
of the disappearance of the train.
This explanation was given to Theophraste by
M. Mifroid, under the circumstances which we
shall now report.
CHAPTER XXIX
M. Milford Recognizes Cartouche
AT midnight an artisan was singing in a square
in Paris, at the side of the ancient Quarter
d'Enfer, the hymn which several months later be-
came so popular, the "International." That arti-
san was working with several companions repair-
ing the track, which had sustained certain
damages, following the construction of a new
drain. The track was bent in certain places, and
even a house in that situation, a heavy new house
of seven stories, was leaning. The city engineers
were much concerned by this state of affairs.
They knew that in this quarter the catacombs
projected their innumerable tunnels, their thou-
sands of drains, and that certain buildings were
in a very precarious state.
There are ancient Gallic-Roman quarries under
those tottering walls, and so they determined on
some work to make these houses secure.
244
CATOUCHE RECOGNIZED
The day which interests us saw the end of this
work. The artisan who sang the "International"
had, with his companions, completed the stopping
of a hole in the subterranean vault that they had
previously strengthened with very heavy pillars,
several meters high.
It was just about twilight when they relin-
quished their work, and the workman who sang the
"International" had almost finished stopping up
the hole at that hour.
At the same hour, not far away on the square,
in front of an electrical lamp store, a few people
stood about on the pavement, and M. Mifroid
was buying a few lamps for his men. He had
paid for them and was just leaving the store with
his package, when he saw in front of the store
a young man with white hair. He was so taken
aback that he slipped into his pockets, without
having paid for them, several electrical lamps.
Always courageous, M. Mifroid bounded toward
the man, crying: "It is Cartouche!" He had
recognized him, for since the revenge of the calf,
all the commissioners of police had the portrait
of Cartouche in their pockets. We should add
that Mme. Longuet herself, and M. Lecamus, im-
mediately after the reading relative to the calf, had
shut M. Longuet up, with the design of sending
246 THE DOUBLE LIFE
an urgent communication to the nearest Com-
missariat.
Then M. Mifroid, who had known our hero as
Theophraste, when he had dined with him, and
who recognized him as Cartouche, cried out in
bounding toward him: "It is Cartouche!"
Theophraste had known for days what the
police wanted with him, and when he saw Mifroid
and heard the words "It is Cartouche !" he said to
himself: "It is time for me to get out of this."
And he ran down the street.
The commissioner ran on behind him, and was
just grabbing him by the collar, when they both
fell down the hole which the workman was filling.
The man had left for a few minutes to drink
with his companions at the saloon near by, and
on his return he completed his work, not knowing
that the two men had fallen, and so they were
imprisoned.
CHAPTER XXX
M. Mif raid's Theory
WHEN M. Mifroid recovered sufficiently
from the shock of his fall, the first thing
that worried him was that he would be "out of
the game." Even at the moment of his fall his
presence of mind did not fail him, and he knew
that he was falling into one of the thousand-year-
old quarries, which crossed under Paris in their
intricate meanderings. He experienced that feel-
ing accompanied by a light, painful torpor which
follows a swoon caused by shock.
He was in the catacombs !
His first thought was to try and find the lights
which he had just bought, and so find out how
the passage lay. He felt sure that they must
have fallen through the hole with him. The dark-
ness seemed to weigh heavily on his eyelids, and
a great feeling of depression came over him.
Without getting up, for by an imprudent move-
247
248 THE DOUBLE LIFE
ment he would lose the knowledge of the exact
place where he had fallen, he spread his hands
about him and was relieved to find his package
again. He feared at first that the lamps would
be broken, but soon felt that it was not so ; and
breaking open the package, he pressed the button
on one of the lamps. The cavern was lighted with
a fairy brightness, and he could not keep from
smiling as he thought of the unfortunates who,
shut up in some cavern, generally drag them-
selves along, holding their breath, behind a paltry
snuff of a candle, which at any moment might
flicker out.
He got up then and examined the vault. He
knew of the work of repairing the track, and knew
that they neared the end, but when he saw that
the hole through which he had fallen was closed,
a feeling akin to fear came over him.
Now some meters of earth separated him from
the outside world, unless it was possible for him
to get up to this place which they had filled in.
He, however, flashed his light around, and after
surveying the walls and the vaults, he came across
a prostrate body. The sight at first gave him a
shock, but on examination he found it to be the
body of M. Longuet the body of the new Car-
touche. He examined it and noticed that it did not
M. MIFROID'S THEORY 249
Dear a single trace of serious wounds. The man
was stunned, as he had been himself, and without
doubt he would not be slow in coming out of that
swoon. He recalled that M. Lecamus had pre-
sented him to his friend in the Champs Elysees,
and behold, he was now mixed up with him like
the worst kind of assassins.
Just then M. Longuet breathed a sigh, stretched
his arm, and complained of some pains. He arose,
and, saluting M. Mifroid, asked him where they
were. M. Mifroid told him. He did not seem
at all distressed, but drawing forth his portfolio,
he traced some lines which resembled a plan, and
showed them to M. Mifroid, saying:
"M. le Commissioner, we are at the bottom of
the catacombs. It is an extraordinary event. How
we are going to get out I do not know, but that
which is distressing me most at the present mo-
ment is what has happened to the express train."
M. Mifroid demanded some explanation, and M.
Longuet related to him, with the closest detail,
the disappearance and re-appearance of the car-
riage and the train. For the better understand-
ing of the track he drew a plan out as follows :
A H D C B
250 THE DOUBLE LIFE
This he showed to M. Mifroid.
He explained how the train had disappeared
between A and B. How he had turned the switch
at H and waited at D for the train to pass on
to the side track. He described how the train had
never come, and how the carriage had appeared
and disappeared.
M. Mifroid became greatly interested, and
begged him to repeat the story. "And when did
this happen?" asked he. "It has not yet been
reported to me."
"It happened several hours ago," said Theo-
phraste, "and it should have been reported by
now."
M. Mifroid examined the plan for about five
minutes, and after reflecting for a while, asked
Theophraste a few questions. Suddenly he burst
out laughing and said: "Why, what a difficult
problem. I have solved it in five minutes.
"You said there were five men at A and five
men at B. It passes through B, but not A. You
were at D, and because you did not see, it did not
pass? Consequently, your train vanished. Well,
I say the train exists between A and B, and must
be somewhere between B and I, that is sure; the
train is in the sandhill."
"I swear not!" said Theophraste. "I was at
M. MIFROID'S THEORY 251
D expecting the train, and I did not leave the
track."
"It can be nowhere else, for five men saw it pass
B and the five men at A are equally certain it
didn't pass them. Therefore I say that as only
you were at D it passed that point, and undoubt-
edly switched off on I, since it could not be other-
wise. By a necessary chance, while the first cars
of the train were engulfed in the sand hillock,
which covered it up (imagine that the line H is
too short for the engineer to have had time to
avoid the accident), the yoke chain of the last car
was broken, and so the last carriage was forced
by the baggage car to descend as far as D, on the
track, which was slightly up-grade, since it went
into a sand hillock. Then after going down to
H and back to D, you saw the carriage and
Signer Petito in the doorway. Your Signor
Petito opened the carriage door, perhaps to throw
himself out, as soon as he was aware of the im-
minent catastrophe, and as the latter caused a
shock, it closed the door on the head of your
Signor Petito.
"Now, having despoiled Signor Petito of his
clothing, you walk into the fields to read his
papers. When you return the carriage is no
longer there. Now, then. Since there was a de-
THE DOUBLE LIFE
clivity, and since there was a wind, the carriage,
after having rolled as far as H, is found on the
line A B, where the trainmen certainly have found
it by this time. Do you understand now? Do
you understand all except that you did not see the
train pass D? You are deaf sometimes, M.
Longuet?"
"I have already had the honor of telling you
so."
"Imagine that you were deaf while you were
waiting for the train at D. You did not hear
then?"
"No, but I should have seen it."
"Already you did not hear it. That is much.
Possibly you turned your head for three seconds.
Three seconds, that is to say, one second and
thirty hundredths longer than is necessary to see
an express train of four carriages pass before
you, which, being late, made 10 to the hour. M.
Longuet, the train disappeared, or, rather, seemed
to disappear, because you were deaf and turned
your head for a brief space of time."
M. Longuet raised his arms to the limit toward
the vaults of the catacombs.
CHAPTER XXXI
Lost in the Catacombs
WHEN M. Longuet had recovered from the
emotion that M. Mifroid's explanation
of the train had caused him, he went through his
pockets and handed over to M. Mif roid a revolver
and a large knife that he had found in Signor
Petito's pocket.
He was now perfectly rational and felt free
from the influences of Cartouche. He, however,
dreaded the return of these fancies, and asked M.
Mifroid to accept these articles in order to defend
himself should he again be possessed with this
evil spirit.
Continuing the search through his pockets, he
produced seven lamps like those of M. Mifroid,
and so between them they had thirteen of these
lights, which would give them 520 hours of con-
tinuous light. They, however, worked out that
they could do ten hours a day without light on
253
THE DOUBLE LIFE
account of sleep, and their calculations gave them
fourteen hours of light per day.
"M. Longuet," said M. Mifroid, "you are won-
derful. Cartouche himself could not have done
better; but what is the good of carrying them
around with us? They will only be a nuisance.
Are you hungry, M. Longuet? How long do you
think you could remain without food?"
"I am sure," he declared, "that I could remain
this way forty-eight hours."
"Well, you will have to remain like this for
seven days, perhaps. I will throw these ten lamps
away, as after the third one I am afraid we shall
not have much need of the rest."
"Where are you going?" asked M. Longuet.
"No matter where," answered his companion ;
"but we must go anywhere rather than stay here,
for there is not a ray of hope here. We will reflect
while walking. Walking is our only salvation,
but by walking seven days we will risk all chance
of arriving anywhere, unless we make a plan."
"W T hy not make an exact plan?" asked M.
Longuet.
"Because I have observed in all the stories of
the catacombs there were always marked plans
which the unfortunate wanderers have lost. They
were confused by the marked places, and not un-
LOST IN THE CATACOMBS 255
derstanding anything about it, they became over-
whelmed with despair. In our situation it is
necessary to shun all causes for despair. You are
not without hope, M. Longuet?"
"Oh, by no means, M. Mif roid. I will add, even,
that were I not so hungry, your pleasant society
aiding, I should not at all regret the roofs of the
Rue Gerondo. You must tell me some stories of
the catacombs, M. Mifroid, to let me forget my
hunger."
"Why, certainly, my friend. There is the story
of the 'Jailer,' and the story of the 'Four
Soldiers.' "
"With which will you begin?"
"I am first going to tell you of the catacombs
in general ; this will make you understand why it
is necessary to walk a long time to get out of
them."
Here M. Longuet interrupted him, asking why
in ending his sentences he always made a gesture
with the thumb of his right hand.
"That means, M. le Commissioner, that the ges-
ture has become a habit with you putting on
thumb-screws ?"
M. Mifroid declared that that was not the
reason. He often gave himself up to sculpture,
and he explained to him that it was the habit of
856 THE DOUBLE LIFE
a modeler. He buried his hand in his discoveries,
just as he did in his clay."
M. Longuet expressed astonishment that a
police commissioner should interest himself in
sculpture. However, it afterward transpired that
M. Mif roid's knowledge of this art was the means
of their final escape from the catacombs.
M. Mifroid, in reporting the events of the
catacombs, wrote as follows :
"The way that we were following was a vast
passage of four or five meters high. The walls
were very dry, and the electric light which lit
our way allowed us to see a hard stone, devoid of
all vegetation, even of moisture. That proof was
not one to rejoice M. Longuet's heart, for he
was beginning to be very thirsty. I knew that
in the catacombs there were some threads of run-
ning water. I thanked heaven for not putting
us on one of these threadlike streams, for we
should only have lost time in imbibing there, and,
moreover, as we could not carry away any water,
it would only have made us more thirsty.
"M. Longuet objected to the idea that we were
walking without caring where. I resolved to make
him understand the necessity of walking on any-
where, in relating to him that which was the truth,
that the engineers, when repairing the track, had
LOST IN THE CATACOMBS 251
descended into the catacombs, and had sought in
vain to discover their limits, and to find an outlet
they were obliged to give it up, and they built
those pillars as supports, and built the arch with
masons' materials ; they descended directly into
the hole, before closing it finally over our heads.
Not to discourage M. Longuet, I informed him
that, to my knowledge, we could count on at least
520 kilometers of catacombs, but there was not a
single reason why they should not have had more.
Evidently, if I had not warned him immediately
of the difficulty of getting out of there, he would
have manifested his despair the second day of the
walk.
" 'I think, then,' I said to him, 'that they have
dug this soil from the third to the seventeenth
century. For during 1400 years, man had re-
moved from under the soil the materials that were
necessary to construct above. If at any time
there was not enough above, there was always
more below. That above returns below, and goes
out thence,' and as we still found ourselves under
the ancient Quarter d'Enfer, I recalled to him
that in 1777 a house in the Rue d'Enfer was swal-
lowed up by the earth below. It was precipitated
to 28 meters below the soil in its court. Some
months later, in 1778, seven persons met death
259 THE DOUBLE LIFE
in a similar caving in. I cited still several more
recent examples, dwelling upon the accident to
persons. He understood, and said to me: 'In
short, it is often more dangerous to walk above
than below.'
"I kept on, seeing that he was impressed, and
he spoke no more of his hunger, and forgot his
thirst. I profited by it to make him lengthen his
step, and I burst into the most entrancing song
which came into my mind. He took it up, and
we sang in chorus:
" 'Au pas, comerade, au pas,
La route est belle!
J'aura du f rictiti la bas,
Dans la gamelle !'
*'It was this which made him keep step.
"One gets tired of singing very quickly in tEe
catacombs, because the voice does not carry; so
when we had got tired M. Longuet asked a hundred
more questions. He asked me how many meters
there were over our heads. I told him that that
could vary, from the latest reports, from 5m.8
and 79 meters. Sometimes, I told him, the crust of
earth was so thin that it was necessary to extend
the foundations of the tombs as far as the bottom
LOST IN THE CATACOMBS 259
of the catacombs. So that we might, in the course
of our peregrinations, encounter the pillars of
Saint Sulpice de St. Etienne du Mont, of the
Pantheon of the Val de Grace, of the Odeon. These
monuments are erected in some way on the sub-
terranean pilings.
" 'Really, in the course of our peregrinations
we risk encountering some of these subterranean
pilings.' But he had his own fixed idea.
" 'And in the course of our peregrinations, is
there any chance of our coming upon an exit? Are
there many ways out of the catacombs?'
" 'There are not,' I replied ; 'there is need of
them. First of all, there are egresses into the
quarter.'
" 'So much the better,' he interrupted.
" 'And other ways out that some know of, but
by which none are ever admitted, but which exist,
nevertheless, in the caves of the Pantheon, in
those of the College of Henry IV, of the Hospital
of the Undi, of some houses in the Rue d'Enfer,
of Vangirard, of the Tombe Issoire at Passy, at
Chaillot, at Saint Maur, at Clarenton, at Gen-
tilly more than sixty. In order to safeguard
building construction, an ordinance was made
which closed all the openings to the catacombs.
260 THE DOUBLE LIFE
It is that ordinance, my dear M. Longuet, which
has almost walled us in.'
"At that moment we struck an enormous pillar.
I examined its construction, and said without stop-
ping: 'Here is a pillar which was used by the
architects of Louis XVI in 1778, then of the Con-
solidation.'
"'Poor Louis XVI !> said M. Longuet. 'He
had better have consolidated royalty.'
"M. Longuet had taken the electric lamp from
my hands, and did not cease to throw the rays to
the right and left, as if he was looking for some-
thing. I asked him the reason of this, which would
fatigue the eyes.
" 'I am looking for some corpses,' he said.
*' 'Some corpses !'
" 'Skeletons. I have heard that the walls of
the catacombs are hung with skeletons.'
" 'Oh, my friend' I already called him friend,
his serenity in such a serious emergency delighting
me so much 'that ghastly tapestry is only a
little longer than a kilometer. That kilometer
justly called an ossuary, on account of the
skulls, the radius, the cubitus, tibias, shin-bones,
phalanges, the thorax, and other small bones which
were made into unique ornaments. But what or-
naments! Ornaments of three million skeletons,
LOST IN THE CATACOMBS 261
that were brought from the cemeteries and acropo-
lis of Saint Midard Clucy, Saint Lamdry of the
Carmelites, the Benedictines, and of the Innocents.
" 'All bones, the little bones well sorted, ar-
ranged, co-ordinated, classified, labeled, which
made on the walls and in the cross passages, roses,
parallelopipides, triangles, rectangles, volutes,
crevices, and many other figures of marvelous
regularity.
" 'Let us wish, my friend, to reach that domain
of the dead. It will be life. For there there are
always a number of people. It is much frequented.
But we are not there. What is one kilometer of
dead men's bones in five hundred?'
" 'Clearly ! How many kilometers do you think
we have made, M. Mifroid?'
" 'We have made nine.'
" 'What are nine kilometers in five hundred ?'
"I induced M. Longuet not to make these use-
less calculations, and he begged me to tell him the
story of the 'Jailer' and that of the 'Four
Soldiers.'
"That made two histories which were not very
long in telling. There were only a few words in
the first. There was once a jailer of the cata-
combs who became lost in the catacombs. They
found his corpse eight days later. The second
THE DOUBLE LIFE
related to four soldiers of the Val-de-Graces, who
were descending, by the aid of a cord, into a well
of eighty meters. They were in the catacombs,
and as they did not reappear some drummers were
sent down, who made the greatest noise that they
could with their drums, but in the catacombs
sound does not carry, and no one responded to
the rolling. They hunted, and at the end of forty
hours they found them dying in a blind alley.
" 'They had no moral courage,' said Theo-
phraste.
"'They were foolish,' I added. 'Whoever is
foolish enough to wander into the catacombs de-
serves no pity.'
"We were by this time come to a crossway, and
M. Longuet turned to ask which way we would
follow.
"I could answer him without delay. I said:
" 'Here are two galleries ; which are you going
to take? One goes almost directly back to our
starting-point, the other directly away from it.'
As our design was to go away from our starting-
point, M. Longuet showed me the first gallery.
" 'I was sure of it !' I exclaimed. 'But you dis-
regard the entire principle. The experimental
method has for centuries demonstrated that at
the bottom of the catacombs all individuals who
LOST IN THE CATACOMBS 263
wish to come back to their point of setting out (to
the entrance of the catacombs) go away from it;
then the whole logic of it is, to go away from one's
point of starting out, one must take the way which
apparently brings one back to it.' And so we
decided on the gallery which seemed to us to bring
us back over our steps, so we were sure of not
having made a useless trip. That system was
excellent, for it led us into a certain region of
the catacombs that no one had visited before, since
the fourteenth century, otherwise it would have
been known."
CHAPTER XXXH
T A Dissertation on Fish
MLONGUET had from the first been com-
plaining of his great hunger. He was
getting very weak, and the end of the thirty-sixth
hour saw him cursing their misfortune. How-
ever, what would have been the good of a little
food? They were buried alive, and food would
have been like a buoy to a shipwrecked sailor,
alone in the middle of the ocean. It could only
serve to prolong the agony.
M. Mifroid was more philosophical. He said
that if there had been anything to eat to give them
strength to continue their way, he would have been
the first to suggest their stopping. But, with the
exception of some mushrooms, probably poisonous,
that his watchful eye had seen, there was nothing,
30 he urged M. Longuet to tramp on. M. Longuet,
however, was unreasonable ; he said he was hungry,
and yet did not seem able to exert himself to get
out of the catacombs.
264
A DISSERTATION ON FISH 265
He asked M. Mifroid question after question as
to the catacombs and what he could eat to stay
his terrible hunger. M. Mifroid tried to keep him
interested by telling him of a visit he had made
to the laboratory in the catacombs of M. M.
Edwards. He told him of the fauna and the flora
in obscure and cavernous places, of which, if
necessary, he could make a meal.
Although the conversation was in vain, as far
as its effects on Theophraste were concerned, M.
Mifroid kept on. Hungry men are always eager
to talk of things to eat, and although he didn't
wish to acknowledge his hunger, he spoke of these
things, and in endeavoring to put spirit into Theo-
phraste allayed his own feelings.
"My dear friend," said he to Theophraste, "it
may be that even if we don't get out of the cata-
combs we will not die of hunger. There is a
stream somewhere here, and I have heard that
there are certain fishes therein. They are not
large fish, but there are incalculable quantities of
them. They are of different sizes, and are not
unpleasant to taste."
"Have you seen them?" asked Theophraste.
"No ; but my friend, M. Edwards, told me about
them when I visited the Fountain of the Fanaise-
tan."
266 THE DOUBLE LIFE
"Is that far from here?"
"I can't tell you just now all that I know is
that this fountain was constructed in 1810 by M.
Hericourt de Thury, engineer of the subterranean
quarries. This fountain is inhabited by the cope-
podes."
"Are they fish?"
"Yes, they present some very singular modifi-
cations of tissues and colorative. They have a
beautiful red eye. That is why they are called
cyclops. That this fish has only one eye ought
not to astonish you, for the asellus aquaticus,
which lives as well in the running water of the
catacombs, is a small isopode aquatic, which often
has no eyes at all. Many species have, instead of
an eye, only a small red pig snout; others have
not a trace of one. They do not need to see clear-
ly, since they live in darkness. Nature is perfect,
and never found wanting. It only gives eyes to
those who can use them, and does not give them
to those to whom they are unnecessary."
Theophraste was struck by M. Mif roid's words.
"Then," said he, "if we continue to live in the
catacombs we will end by not having eyes !"
"Evidently we will commence to lose the use of
our sight and eventually become blind."
Then Theophraste insisted upon M. Mifroid
A DISSERTATION ON FISH 267
continuing his talk on these fish that could be
found in the catacombs, and which they would,
perhaps, have to eat. He was thus induced to
give a sort of lecture on the modifications of the
organs, and their excessive development, or their
atrophy, following the ways frequented by indi-
viduals.
He continued: "So the fish of which I speak
have no eyes. Their sense organs present modi-
fications. For instance, the asellus aquaticus, even
of the normal species, is armed with small, flat
organs, terminated by a pore, that are considered
olfactory organs. They are veritable olfactory
cudgels, and these very fish which do not see know
the space around them as well, possibly better,
than if they could see in the light, so perfectly
developed are these olfactory and tactile organs.
Yes, my dear Theophraste, there are circumstances
in the lives of some living things where the nose
takes the place of the eyes, and the nose can thus
acquire perfectly incredible dimensions. In the
wells of Padirac there was found an asellide which
possessed olfactory cudgels of an amazing length."
"Are there none in the running waters of the
catacombs?" demanded Theophraste.
"No, none at all. Yet there are found many
sorts of cavernical fish, such, for example, as the
268 THE DOUBLE LIFE
niphugus puleamus, and this is found in great
abundance. Their ocular organs are atrophied."
This, however, did not interest Theophraste, who
had got his own idea.
"Do you know how they fish for them?" he
asked.
"I cannot say," said Mif roid ; "but we can surely
get some sort of bait from the surrounding vege-
matter."
In a little while they both fell asleep, dream-
ing of this water which was to bring them relief.
However, though their dreams were pleasant
enough, there were surprises for them when they
awoke.
CHAPTER XXXIII
The Meeting of the Talfa
THEY had been sleeping on a soft soil or
decayed vegetable matter, the sight of
which had drawn from M. Mifroid the re-
mark that it was a good omen for the
near future. Their travels up to the present
had been without incident, except for some
differences of opinion between them. The sub-
terranean galleries, lit up by the electric lamps,
were sometimes vast, sometimes straight, sometimes
rounded out like the vault of a cathedral, then
square and regular, and so narrow that they had
to crawl on their knees to get through. They had
by this time become silent, except for a remark
or two upon the variety of the strata they were
passing through. Here was rock, here clay, here
sand, and so on.
It could not, however, last much longer. For
forty-eight hours they had been walking, without
269
270 THE DOUBLE LIFE
coming across any water. M. Mifroid, however,
hoped on, and we will soon see how justified he
was. He hoped at least to come across some water
or vegetation.
They estimated it to be about four o'clock in
the afternoon, when Theophraste rose, and, tight-
ening his belt, prepared to start on another tramp.
This time he did not speak of his hunger or
thirst, but walked on in that silence which weak-
ness brings on men. They had been walking about
an hour when it was noticed that the temperature
had become much higher, and they both involun-
tarily took off their coats. Soon the perspiration
began to pour off their foreheads, and they began
to wonder how this change could have come about.
Were they going toward the center of the earth?
How could it be accounted for? In two hours
the temperature had risen from 60 to 90 degrees
Fahrenheit. M. Mifroid knew of some galleries
79 meters below the ground, but who could esti-
mate what depth they were at now?
Their electric lamps spread their brilliancy
around them as they advanced, now discussing the
cause of this phenomenon. Suddenly the walls of
the galleries spread out, and they found themselves
in a cave of such large dimensions that even with
their strong lights they could not see the farther
MEETING OF THE TALFA 271
ends. What was their joy and amazement when
they found before them a beautiful lake, the banks
of which were covered with a thick carpet of moss,
and in the crystal transparency of which they
saw fish with beautifully colored scales. The fish
had no eyes, and did not appear timid. They
disported themselves in the water, coming quite
close to where the two astonished men stood. They
could easily catch them by leaning over. A flock
of ducks were swimming about in the enchanted
water.
M. Theophraste wept with joy on seeing this
wonderful sight, and cried out softly, for he was
afraid of disturbing them : "My friend, what did
I say? Isn't this better than all earthly scenes?"
M. Mifroid felt somewhat humiliated at not
knowing this before, but soon regained his in-
fluence over Theophraste, who was beginning to
get excited over this wonderful sight. He made
him sit down on the bank, so as not to frighten the
ducks, and began explaining to him that what
they saw was quite natural. He explained that it
was caused by the soil, and that the water had
collected here by the action of the heat.
Theophraste was for throwing himself into the
water at once, and would have done so if they had
not suddenly seen a sight which riveted them to
THE DOUBLE LIFE
the very ground. Neither them spoke. Their
tongues were paralyzed. Their electric light re-
vealed, far ahead of them, but not far enough for
them to lose a single detail, the figure of a woman.
She was quite naked, and had her back toward
them. Never before had they seen a form so ele-
gant and so graceful.
This first view, however, lasted only an instant,
for she threw herself into the water and swam
away with the grace and ease of a swan.
The apparition had the effect of making them
forget the ducks, and they both forgot the hunger
which gnawed at their vitals. They had hoped
that she would not vanish, and that their presence
would remain unnoticed.
After several plunges, the nymph, shaking the
pearly drops from her beautiful body into the
sleeping waters, emerged not far away from where
they stood, but always with her back turned.
What quarry of Carrara ever gave to the world
more precious or purer a marble? By what
miracle of the divine fires can we contemplate
those lines of definitive beauty? It was the form
of a Greek statue, and her arms were as graceful
as one could wish to imagine on the Venus de
Milo.
They waited in silence for her to turn around,
MEETING OF THE TALFA 273
while she disported herself on the green moss.
Soon their curiosity was satisfied, and she sudden-
ly turned. Neither of them could restrain a cry
of horror, which made the Venus plunge back into
the water. She had no eyes, and there was nothing
in their place. Her ears, which were hidden from
their sight by the profusion of hair, stood out
like horns. But that which terrified them most
was her enormous, snout-like red nose.
They had hardly recovered from their first sur-
prise when another young female, clothed in a
light tunic, came unexpectedly on the bank, hold-
ing in her arms a long gown. She also had a
nose like the other, and no eyes.
The Venus came toward her companion on the
bank, and the latter said: "They are silent now,
and not saying a word."
"Ha, Saint Mary, they shall have no pardon !
They are traitors. Do you know what our people
are doing? Go and find out; I want to know."
She spoke in the purest French of the fourteenth
century, and the delicacy and sweetness of her
voice was like the rippling water of a brook. The
two men watched and listened in amazement. They
stood still and stared before them. They felt that
a great miracle was being wrought.
Suddenly they were surrounded by thirty or
THE DOUBLE LIFE
more men, who seemed to have come from out of
Ihe very rocks. They stood around them, gesticu-
lating and talking vehemently, but in very low
Voices. They too had no eyes, but their ears were
developed to a surprising size. On each of their
hands they had ten fingers, and they had ten toes
to each foot. As they came into the glare of the
electric light, they held their hands up to their
red snouts, as if they had smelled a disagreeable
odor. They all mumbled in half -audible tones:
"Lady Jane de Montfort, Demoiselle de Coucy,"
and it was easy to see that they referred to the
ladies who had been disturbed. As they passed
they felt the faces of the two men. They just
touched them lightly, and in doing so moved away
in an apologetic way. It seemed as if they were
curiosities. They felt their eyes, their noses, and
their ears, and some of them even put their fingers
down their ears. It was evident they could not
understand the smallness of their features.
Then one of them addressed M. Mifroid, and
while apologizing for their curiosity, said he was
astonished at their want of beauty.
By this time Lady Jane de Montfort and Demoi-
selle de Coucy were dressed, and M. Mifroid and
M. Theophraste were presented to them.
The two men begged a thousand pardons for
MEETING OF THE TALFA 275
their intrusion, and were about to explain their
intrusion, when Demoiselle de Coucy took Theo-
phraste by the arm, and Lady Jane took M.
Mifroid, and they were conducted through the
vaults surrounded by the crowd of men. It was
difficult for them to prevent the men from poking
their eyes out as they fumbled over their faces.
They had been forty-eight hours without food,
and their hunger was extreme, and now they were
to be taken away from where there was food.
The two women had taken possession of their
lamps under the pretext of being troubled by the
odor.
They tried to tell the people that they were ex-
hausted, but so many questions were put to them
that no opportunity presented itself.
They had by this time reached a large chamber.
There was a dull light, and they felt the presence
of thousands of people. M. Mifroid managed to
get one of the lamps, and quickly pressing the
button, lit up the vast hall, in which were crowded
thousands of these weird men, all with the large
noses and ears, but with no eyes. Some of them
walked on all fours, and some had such long noses
that they looked like pelicans.
Finally they were informed that they were at
the entrance to the meeting hall.
CHAPTER XXXIV
M . Mifroid Performs on the Stage
ONE would never have expected to drop from
one of the numberless ways in the catacombs
into a city of twenty thousand inhabitants. How-
ever, upon reflection, one would wonder why men,
taken out of their natural environment, would not
be susceptible to the same natural changes as the
animals.
Arajo relates to us how he saw flocks of blind
ducks come out of the caverns of the subterranean
lake of Zirhnitz. One is bound to believe that these
ducks were the products of ducks which once saw
clearly, but which were shut up by some accident
in the bowels of the earth, in the midst of obscure
waters. And so there is some logic in the theory
that if the family of a man in the first years of
the fourteenth century was by accident confined
in the catacombs, it would live there and produce
offspring. At the end of the third generation they
276
M. MIFROID PERFORMS OT
would have forgotten the existence of the open
world. Of course they would continue to speak
the language, and as no strange element would
mix with it, it would preserve its purity through
centuries.
Then in the darkness they would lose the use
of their eyes, but develop their sense of touch as
blind men do. Hence the excess of digits on their
hands and feet. Then the loss of one sense always
develops all the other senses in proportion. After
centuries these super-developed senses become ab-
normal, and the nose and ears develop accordingly
in size.
And so it was with these people of the Talfa.
Their features had developed to an extraordinary
extent, and their idea of beauty in the human form
was based on the excessive development of these
features. Demoiselle de Coucy was considered the
most beautiful of all the Talfa.
They had entered the large meeting room, and
M. Mif roid attempted to again light his lamp, but
the crowd cried out in such disgust that he was
persuaded to keep it out. He endeavored to con-
verse with those near by. Their names were among
the most illustrious in France at the time of the
Battle of Crecy. But they addressed themselves
in a tone so ineffably sweet, and all the uproar they
278 THE DOUBLE LIFE
tried to make resulted in an enchanting murmur.
It was difficult to imagine that such sweet and
honeyed words could emanate from such ugly
beings.
M. Mif roid was seated on a chair next to Lady
Jane de Montfort, who continually felt his face
and touched his ears. While her curiosity was
great she approached him with such delicate grace-
fulness that he hadn't the heart to restrain her.
Soon there was a great silence, and a concert
began. To Mifroid and Theophraste nothing was
to be heard. Occasionally the people applauded
quietly, but the absolute silence of the performers
was a striking feature. Not a word was heard.
Soon there was much talking again around the
two men, and they learned that it was intended
that they should go down on the stage. This was
the reason why they had been dragged to the meet-
ing hall. They were to be exhibited as a phenome-
non. Theophraste willingly consented, as his com-
panion had promised him a good duck for dinner.
M. Mifroid was not so easily persuaded, but at
last acquiesced, and they descended to the stage.
They all clamored for a song, and M. Mifroid
started one of the old French songs of the four-
teenth century, which he had learned as a boy.
He had hardly started the first verse, when every-
M. MIFROID PERFORMS 279
body in the hall called out for him to sing
lower.
He started again, this time moderating his voice,
but again they called to him to sing lower. The
third time he could hardly hear himself, so low
was his voice, but this did not satisfy his audience,
and he left the platform with his song unfinished.
He afterward learned that the sense of hearing
of these people was so developed that they could
understand silent music.
CHAPTER XXXV!
'A New Trade
AFTER the concert the party went out of the
hall, and passed on to a striking mansion
in which a sumptuous repast was served. M.
Mifroid had by this time become quite intimate
with the Lady de Montfort. He confessed that
he was unable to withstand the allurements of the
lady. It must not be forgotten that the darkness
was most conducive to the failure of all his hon-
orable intentions. However, we will not dilate
upon what happened, but Mme. de Montfort weak-
ened him with her caresses and M. Mifroid at last
succumbed to the temptation. After a while she
slept, and he opened the door and went out.
Although they had been among the Talfa sev-
eral hours, neither M. Mifroid nor Theophraste
had had the inclination to see what kind of habi-
tation they were in. Weakness and the great
crowd of Talfa had prevented them.
A NEW TRADE 281
M. Theophraste had conducted himself in such
a manner during the meal, eating everything to
excess, that he had had to be carried out. It was
done according to the directions of Mme. de Coucy,
who, it is feared, would not at that time have
carried on her love intrigues.
Now M. Mifroid found himself alone, and he
decided to investigate. As he went out of the room,
he realized that he was in a subterranean city.
That which struck him most was the total ab-
sence of doors. All the shops were open to the
passers-by, and the most precious articles as well
as the poorest were exposed for any one to take
who wished.
He was very much amused by the profusion of
the columns, by the incredible carving in the
friezes, by the reliefs and sculptured caps to the
pillars. They were so extravagantly flowered, with
the lines so intricate, that only a master hand
could have worked them. A curious point about
all this work was that it only reached as high as
a man could touch. Above that point the design
mixed in with the vaulting of the catacombs and
was left to the imagination. But whatever was
seen of this beautiful carving could only be com-
pared with the marvels worked by the early sculp-
tors of India or the ivory-carvers of Burma.
THE DOUBLE LIFE
In the search M. Mifroid did not come upon
any large building. He had frequently heard
Mademoiselle say: "Ah, St. Mary!' r And so he
tried to find some temple in order to find out what
their religion was. His search, however, was in
vain. The only building of any size was the con-
cert hall where they had been earlier. It was cer-
tainly more wonderful than all the rest, but except
for this one example all the architectural marvels
were applied to the private buildings. The mean-
est aperture, the poorest door, were little gems of
art. There were no statues in the squares.
M. Mifroid was just starting back to his lady's
house, when he met a party of young Talf a, armed
with cross-bows. "Ah !" thought he, "here are the
guards." He was, however, quickly undeceived,
for they had smelled the odor from his lamp, and
they came up to him. They told him they were
going for a hunt. The hunting season started
every year on the rising of the waters of the great
lake. At this time there were always a lot of rats,
which were killed in thousands and used for many
different things in the Talfa households.
Thanks to the directions they had given him,
he soon found his way back to Lady de Montf ort's
house. There he found her waiting at the window,
A NEW TRADE 283
and as soon as he got near her, she waved her
handkerchief.
They were soon in conversation again, and he
found out that she was not married.
She asked him what he did on the top of the
earth, and he told her he was a commissioner of
police. She listened intently, and asked what Theo-
phraste did.
"He is a robber," said M. Mif roid.
Evidently neither a commissioner of police nor
a robber was known among the Talfa, and soon
the news spread that the two strangers had un-
known trades, and a great crowd gathered, who
begged them to show them what they did on earth*
M. Mif roid sent to fetch Theophraste.
CHAPTER XXXVI
"A Robber is Caught
WHEN Theophraste was brought up to M.
Mifroid, he was in a pitiful condition.
He had given himself up to the worst debauchery,
and was still under the influence of his excesses.
However, M. Mifroid explained to him what was
required of him. He had to demonstrate to the
Talfa people the duties of a police commissioner,
and Theophraste was to act the robber and be
arrested. However, owing to Theophraste's con-
dition, M. Mifroid had his misgivings as to the
result of this practical demonstration.
The crowd by this time had assumed enormous
proportions, and by special permission an electric
lamp was lit. All present held their noses as if
the lamp smelled.
Then M. Mifroid instructed Theophraste. He
told him to run into a store and take some things,
and run out. This was an easy matter, as none
284
A ROBBER IS CAUGHT 285
of the stores had doors, and Theophraste com-
menced to act the robber. He ran into a hatter's
and seized all sorts of rat-skin caps. He instinct-
ively put them under his coat, and hid them about
his person, looking furtively around him in a most
natural way.
All this time the people around the store looked
on noiselessly. No one said anything and not the
least sign of surprise was shown. One man at
length said : "Look at that fellow providing him-
self with hats for a year. It was then that M.
Mifroid came upon the scene, and seizing Theo-
phraste by the arm, said in his most official tone:
"In the name of the law, I arrest you !"
This did not produce the desired effect, as the
people still preserved their dumbness, and did not
appear at all impressed.
Mile, de Coucy asked M. Mifroid what he meant
by "In the name of the law." But as the Talfa
people had no law, he found it difficult to explain.
He told her how the police was an institution
to protect the person and property of peaceable
citizens. They were the guardians of the law.
He, however, could not make them understand, as
they thought Theophraste had a right to the hats.
Lady de Montfort explained that they had no
need of laws to protect the state, as they had no
286 THE DOUBLE LIFE
state, nor the property, as they had no property,
and as individuals never conflicted no law was
necessary to protect persons. All the Talf a people
did was to hunt for their food and make clothing
from the skins of rats. Marriage to them was a
prehistoric institution which appeared unworthy
of the human state. They only half believed its
existence as a sacred legend. Their unions were
of a very liberal nature, and did not require any
ceremony or oath. Consequently they lived to-
gether peacefully and happily.
A curious feature of these Talfa people was
the entire absence of any code of morals. There
was no difference made between a virtuous woman
and one of loose habits. Everybody lived on the
same footing and enjoyed the same privileges.
Things happened according to taste and tempera-
ment, and nobody thought anything about it.
Thus conflicts of passion were reduced to a mini-
mum. No one had rights, as no one possessed
anything.
Thus lived the Talfa people. No laws, no
trouble, and no police commissioners.
CHAPTER XXXVn
The Escape from ihe Catacombs
MTHEOPHRASTE LONGUET had by this
time quite forgotten the ties which bouad
him to the world above, and while M. Mif roid was
abandoning himself to the fancies of Lady de
Montf ort, he was indulging in excesses of debauch-
ery with the Talfa people.
The time came when M. Mifroid became tired
of this kind of life. They had been in the cata-
combs three weeks and had become acquainted with
the habits of all the Talfa people. M. Mifroid
longed to get into the open world, where people
had public affairs and a properly organized so-
ciety. He felt confused, and a feeling of weariness
came over him.
Theophraste was for stopping there altogether.
He said he had never had such a time before. He
had been playing the tricks of Cartouche on the
Talfa people, and he felt more free in spirits than
287
288 THE DOUBLE LIFE
he had felt on earth. He was so persistent in his
determination to stay that M. Mif roid decided to
appeal to Mile, de Coucy. He felt that Theo-
phraste was a nuisance to the Talfa, and the best
way to get him out was to appeal to the people
themselves. Theophraste had even suggested put-
ting out his own eyes to be like these people.
Upon telling Mile, de Coucy, however, he got a
totally different answer than he expected. She
told him that the Talfa people had decided to let
them go as soon as twenty thousand people had
passed their fingers over their faces. She explained
that the Talfa had forever been trying to get
into the upper world, and therefore they must all
visit these men from the coveted realms and see
what they looked like before their departure.
M. Mifroid calculated that it would take some
time to complete this ceremony, and so he devised
a plan by which they could deceive the people and
escape. They were never long alone, and all day
and all night fingers were feeling their faces and
were thrust into their eyes, nose or mouth. It was
during these operations one night that M. Mifroid
devised his plan of escape. He would utilize his
powers as a sculptor.
Obtaining some clay from the bed of the lake
he modeled two masks like those of the Talfa peo-
THE ESCAPE 289
pie, with large noses and ears. Then under the
pretense of acquiescing in Theophraste's wishes,
who dreamed only of becoming a Talfa, he put one
of the masks on his face, and the other he wore
himself. The deception was perfect, and although
they met several Talfa they were not recognized,
in spite of much finger feeling.
M. Mifroid took the precaution of providing
himself with food, and they both started out.
Theophraste laughed with delight at the bold de-
ception, and in his merriment he did not realize
that M. Mifroid had led him out of the domains
of the Talfa. They walked for five days. Their
eyes had by this time become accustomed to the
darkness, and they were able to make good head-
way. On the fifth day they came across some
human bones, and M. Mifroid uttered a prayer of
thankfulness, for here were signs of a civilized
people. They were on the outskirts of the city of
Ossarium.
Theophraste had been in a very depressed state
of mind since leaving the Talfa. He had continu-
ally reproached M. Mifroid for getting him away.
Upon coming upon the first signs of human exist-
ence, M. Mifroid drew his attention to them and
declared that in a short time they would be out in
the light of day again.
290 THE DOUBLE LIFE
Soon they came across a skull with the signs of
a candle near it, showing Catholic burial, then the
gallery seemed to dip down, the ground became
wet, and they found themselves wading through
mire. Water dripped on them from crevices above,
and the air became cold and damp. At last M.
Mifroid recognized a part of the gallery, and
again he sent a prayer up to heaven for his deliv-
erance.
There was a Latin inscription cut out of the
rock : "Ossa arida audite verbum Domini," which
M. Mifroid recognized as being near an entrance
to the catacombs.
They had not proceeded far when voices were
heard, and they found themselves in a large vault.
This was a very different place than the hall of
the Talfa, though. There were ordinary human
beings here. Through the whole length of the hall
chairs were arranged. The place was lit up by
numerous candles enclosed in human skulls. At
the end was a kind of rotunda where evidently the
musicians sat, for a large circle of music-stands
were arranged. A number of people were present
getting ready for a feast. No one took any notice
of the two strangers, as it was thought that they
were invited guests, and they strolled through,
watching the proceedings. Soon the musicians
THE ESCAPE 291
began to arrive one by one, and the people sat
around making pleasantries, and passing the time
away in talk. It was half-past one.
It was indeed a curious sight. Here down among
the dead, with coffins and bones all around, had
assembled a crowd to listen to music, and to make
revelry. Fifty musicians had assembled, among
whom M. Mifroid recognized many of the
orchestra of the Opera House.
Soon the music started, Chopin's "Dead March"
being the first piece. After listening for some
time M. Mifroid tapped Theophraste on the shoul-
der, whispering to him that it was time to go.
They hurried along, and ten minutes later they
found themselves on the earth again.
They walked together for about half an hour,
neither uttering a word. They were both thinking
what a wonderful experience they had gone
through. The Talfa nation, with its peculiar
habits, had impressed them wonderfully, and
neither wished to disturb the other in contempla-
tion of it all.
Suddenly Theophraste said: "What are you
waiting for, M. Mifroid? Do you intend to arrest
me?"
M. Mifroid had, in the emotion of the moment,
forgotten his original mission. He, however, had
THE DOUBLE LIFE
become very friendly with Theophraste in the cata-
combs, in spite of his excesses, and so, now that
he was confronted with the necessity of arresting
him, he said: "No, my friend, I shall not arrest
you. My mission was to arrest Cartouche, but
as Cartouche is no more, I cannot arrest him.
Besides, you, M. Longuet, are my friend."
They then parted at the Buci Crossway.
CHAPTER XXXVIII
An Old Friend
AFTER the footsteps of M. Mifroid had died
away, M. Longuet remained standing at
the street corner. A feeling of intense sadness
and loneliness had come over him. He could not
decide on whether to go back to his wife or to
leave her altogether. But what would he do?
If he left her he would have no home, and he would
be an outcast from the world. He wandered for
a long time through the streets, until he found
himself opposite a door in the Rue Suger. He
rang the bell and a man in a blouse and paper
cap opened the door in response.
"Good-evening, Ambrose," said Theophraste.
"Are you up at this hour? I would not have dis-
turbed you, but many things have happened since
I last saw you."
He had not seen him since the evening he came
to ask his opinion on the watermark on the old
paper.
THE DOUBLE LIFE
"Come in," said Ambrose cordially. "Make
yourself at home. How are all the folks at home ?"
"I will tell you all to-morrow. What I want
now is some sound sleep. I am tired out."
Ambrose showed him his own bed, and soon
Theophraste was stretched out and asleep.
The following day Ambrose tried to get some
news from Theophraste, who, however, observed
an absolute silence, and would not be persuaded
to say a word. He was like a dumb man. He
passed his time for two days in examining words
and papers, which filled his pockets, and in writing,
but always without saying a word.
One morning as he was preparing to go out,
Ambrose asked him : "Where are you going ?"
"I am going to see M. Mif roid about the details
of a trip we took together, and of which you
will learn when I am dead."
"You are going to kill yourself?"
"Oh, no. There is no use in doing that. I shall
die soon enough. But I shall come to your house
to die, my dear Ambrose. After going to see M.
Mif roid, I shall go to see my wife."
"I did not dare to ask about her. Your sad-
ness and silence made me fear some domestic
trouble. It is all so inexplicable."
"She still loves me," said Theophraste.
AN OLD FRIEND 295
Before letting him go, Ambrose made him
change his underclothes, and lent him a clean shirt,
as he said he could not see his wife decently in the
rags he was in at present.
"I will put it on," said Theophraste, * e for my
own sake, as my wife won't see it. I'm not going
near her. I shall only see her from a distance.
I only want to learn if she is happy."
CHAPTER XXXIX
The Final Tragedy
IT was nine o'clock in the evening, the season
was well advanced, and a heavy mist hung
over the land. M. Longuet went up the long drive
toward the "Villa Flots de Azure." His hand
trembled as he cautiously pushed open the little
garden gate. He crossed the garden step by
step, to look around. His whole demeanor was
one of evil intent. There was a light in the parlor,
and the window was half open. With short steps
Theophraste advanced, and stretching his head he
peered in.
He fell back groaning. Placing his hands over
his face, he tore the white locks on his forehead.
The sight had frenzied him, and he felt a pang
of agonizing jealousy go through his frame.
Marceline and Adolphe were there, locked in af-
fectionate embrace ! This is what he had come to
see! His wife no doubt was happy, but in quite
a different way from what he expected.
296
THE FINAL TRAGEDY 297
He sat down on the ground and wept with rage.
Rising, his curiosity forced him to get nearer and
listen.
What he heard only made him worse, and he
inwardly felt that he was about to commit a great
crime. However, he battled against this feeling,
and ran away from the house. Something com-
pelled him to return !
In a state of sanguinary expectation, compara-
ble to nothing in the history of crimes, he again re-
traced his steps, found himself in the garden again,
and without waiting to look in he bounded into
the parlor.
M. Lecamus and Marceline were taken aback,
and both uttered a cry of surprise. Their surprise
was soon turned to terror, as Theophraste, seiz-
ing some stout cord, ran to Adolphe, and with
superhuman strength and agility bound him hand
and foot. Dragging him to the hall, he tied him
to a newel post and left him. It was all done with
such lightning speed that Adolphe hadn't the time
to resist the first attack, and he was as a child in
the ferocious grip of Theophraste.
Turning around he ran to the sitting-room, and
seized an old sword that was hanging on the wall.
Marceline in her terror called to Lecamus to mind
298 THE DOUBLE LIFE
his ears. She feared that he would undergo the
same treatment as Signer Petito. However, noth-
ing was further from Theophraste's thoughts, for
turning on Marceline he struck her down with one
blow. Two seconds later he was holding her head
up to Adolphe, saying: "Haste thee now to kiss
these lips while they are still warm."
Adolphe could do nothing, so he touched the
lips of the dead woman, and then fell in a faint.
Theophraste ran upstairs, and brought down
from the garret an old trunk, and in less than
twenty-five minutes he had the body of Marceline
cut up and placed in it. He closed the trunk with
a key, and putting it over his shoulder he said
good-by to Lecamus. However, he might have
said good-by co the door-post, for Lecamus was
in a dead faint and choking from the cords around
his neck.
Theophraste and the trunk disappeared in the
darkness.
That same night one could have seen a man on
a barge in the Seine discharging the contents of a
trunk into the river. They could also have heard
him murmur : "My poor Marceline, my poor Mar-
celine ! It was not your fault."
At dawn Theophraste knocked at Ambrose's
door. Ambrose saw that he was greatly agitated,
THE FINAL TRAGEDY 299
and asked him in sympathetic tones what had hap-
pened.
Theophraste could not reply. His tongue
seemed riveted to his mouth. He crawled to the
bed, and, lying down, wept.
At last Ambrose was able to console him suffi-
ciently to get these few words from him : "I felt
the flame of murder pass through my veins. The
impulse to kill had returned to me after centuries.
The same impulse that had made me decapitate
my faithless wife, Marie Antoinette Neron, two
hundred years previously, and to throw her body
into the river. I forgive M. Lecamus. When I
am dead go and look for him and tell him that I
name him my testamentary executor. I leave him
all my worldly goods. He will know what to do
with the little oaken chest, in which is locked the
terrible secrets of the last months of my sad life."
Having said these words, Theophraste raised
himself on the pillow, for the oppression increased,
and he knew that the end was near. His look was
no longer of this world. His gaze was fixed on
some imaginary object far away, and in a doleful
voice he said : "I have seen I see I turn again
toward the square ray of light."
And he expired !
THE END
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