Fantômas

by Pierre Souvestre and Marcel Allain

  XV. THE MAD WOMAN'S PLOT

  When Dr. Biron built his famous private asylum in the very heart ofPassy, intended, according to his prospectus, to provide a retreat forpeople suffering from nervous breakdown or from overwork orover-excitement, and to offer hospital treatment to the insane, in orderto secure a kind of official sanction for his institution, he took thewise precaution to proclaim from the housetops that he would enlist theservices of ex-medical officers of the hospitals. The idea was a shrewdand a successful one, and his establishment throve.

  Perret and Sembadel were having breakfast, and also were grumbling.

  "I shouldn't curse the meanness of the management quite so much if theydidn't put us on to all the jobs," said Sembadel. "Hang it all, man, weare both qualified, and when we undertook to assist Dr. Biron we did so,I presume, in order to top off our theoretical training with somepractical clinical experience."

  "Who's stopping you?" Perret enquired.

  "How can we find the time, when besides all our actual work with thepatients, we have to do all this administrative work, writing to peopleto say how the patients are, and all that? That ought to be done byclerks, not by us."

  "Isn't one job as good as another?" Perret retorted. "Besides, we arethe only people who know how the patients really are, so it's commonsense that we should have to write to their friends."

  "They might let us have a secretary, anyhow," Sembadel growled.

  Perret saw that his friend was in a bad temper, so did not try to carryon the argument.

  "Say," he said, "you ought to make a special note of that case of No.25, for your thesis. She was in your ward for about six months, wasn'tshe?"

  "No. 25?" said Sembadel. "Yes, I know: a woman named Rambert; age aboutforty; hallucination that people are persecuting her; anaemic, withalternate crises of excitement and melancholia, punctuated by fits ofpassion; treatment: rest, nourishment, anodynes."

  "You evidently remember the case distinctly."

  "She interested me; she has marvellous eyes. Well, what about her?"

  "Why, when she was moved into my pavilion the diagnosis was bad and theprognosis very bad: she was supposed to be incurable. Just go and seeher now: her brain is restored: she's a new woman." He came to the tableand picked up some notepaper. "I wrote to her husband a day or two agoand told him he might expect to hear that his wife had recovered, but Iimagine my letter miscarried, for I've had no answer. I have a good mindto write to him again and ask for permission to send her to theconvalescent home. The mischief of it is that this Etienne Rambert maywant to remove her altogether, and that would mean one paying patientless, which would put our worthy director in a bad temper for a month."

  He turned to his correspondence, and for some minutes the silence in theroom was only broken by the scratching of pens on paper. Then anattendant came in, bringing a quantity of letters. Perret picked them upand began to sort them out.

  "None for you," he said to Sembadel. "Not one of those little mauveenvelopes which you look for every day and which decide what your temperwill be. I must look out for storms."

  "Shan't even have time to grouse to-day," Sembadel growled again. "Youforget that Swelding pays us an official visit to-day."

  "The Danish professor? Is it this morning that he is coming?"

  "So it seems."

  "Who is the fellow?"

  "Just one of those foreign savants who haven't succeeded in becomingfamous at home and so go abroad to worry other people under a pretext ofinvestigations. That's why he wants to come here. Wrote some beastlylittle pamphlet on the ideontology of the hyper-imaginative. Never heardof it myself."

  The conversation dropped, and presently the two men went off to theirwards to see their patients, and warn the attendants to have everythingin apple-pie order for the official inspection.

  * * * * *

  Meantime, in the great drawing-room, elaborate courtesies were beingexchanged between Dr. Biron and Professor Swelding.

  Dr. Biron was a man of about forty, with a high-coloured face and anactive, vigorous frame. He gesticulated freely and spoke in an unctuous,fawning tone.

  "I am delighted at the great compliment you pay me by coming here, sir,"he said. "When I started this institution five years ago I certainly didnot dare to hope that it would so soon win sufficient reputation toentitle it to the honour of inspection by men so eminent in thescientific world as yourself."

  The professor listened with a courteous smile but evinced no hurry inreplying.

  Professor Swelding was certainly a remarkable figure. He might have beensixty, but he bore very lightly the weight of the years that laid theirsnows upon his thick and curly but startlingly white hair. It was thishair that attracted attention first; it was of extraordinary thicknessand was joined on to a heavy moustache and a long and massive beard. Hewas like a man who might have taken a vow never to cut his hair. Itcovered his ears and grew low upon his forehead, so that hardly avestige of the face could be seen, while, further, all the expression ofthe eyes was concealed behind large blue spectacles. The professor wasenveloped in a heavy cloak, in spite of the bright sunshine; evidentlyhe was one of those men from the cold North who do not know what realwarmth is and have no idea of what it means to be too thickly clothed.He spoke French correctly, but with a slight accent and a slowenunciation that betrayed a foreign origin.

  "I was really anxious, sir, to observe for myself the measures you havetaken which have set your institution in the forefront of establishmentsof the kind," he replied. "I have read with the very greatest interestyour various communications to the transactions of learned societies. Itis a great advantage for a practitioner like myself to be able to profitby the experience of a savant of your high standing."

  A few further compliments were exchanged and then Dr. Biron suggested avisit to the various wards, and led his guest out into the grounds ofthe institution.

  If Dr. Biron did not possess that theoretical knowledge of insanitywhich has made French alienists famous throughout the world, he wascertainly a first-rate organiser. His sanatorium was a model one. It wassituated in one of the wealthiest, quietest and airiest quarters ofParis, and stood in a vast enclosure behind high walls; within thisenclosure a number of small pavilions were built, all attractive indesign, and communicating by broad flights of steps with a beautifulgarden studded with trees and shrubs, but further subdivided into aseries of little gardens separated from one another by white latticedpalings.

  "You see, Professor, I rely entirely on the isolation principle. Asingle block would have involved a deleterious collocation of varioustypes of insanity, so I built this series of small pavilions, where mypatients can be segregated according to their type of alienation. Thesystem has great therapeutic advantages, and I am sure it is theexplanation of my high percentage of cures."

  Professor Swelding nodded approval.

  "We apply the system of segregation in Denmark," he said, "but we havenever carried it so far as to divide the general grounds. I see thateach of your pavilions has its own private garden."

  "I regard that as indispensable," Dr. Biron declared. He led his visitorto one of the little gardens, where a man of about fifty was walkingabout between two attendants. "This man is a megalomaniac," he said: "hebelieves that he is the Almighty."

  "What is your treatment here?" Professor Swelding enquired. "I am awarethat the books prescribe isolation, but that is not sufficient byitself."

  "I nurse the brain by nursing the body," Dr. Biron replied. "I build upmy patient's system by careful attention to hygiene, diet, and rest, andI pretend to ignore his mental alienation. There is always a spark ofsound sense in a diseased brain. This man imagines he is the Almighty,but when he is hungry he has to ask for something to eat, and then wepretend to wonder why he has any need to eat if he is the Almighty; hehas to concoct some explanation, and very gradually his reasoning poweris restored. A man ceases to be insane the moment he begins tocomprehend that he is insane."r />
  The Professor followed the doctor, casting curious eyes at the variouspatients who were walking in their gardens.

  "Have you many cures?"

  "That is a difficult question to answer," said Dr. Biron. "Thestatistics are so very different in the different categories ofinsanity."

  "Of course," said Professor Swelding; "but take some particular type ofdementia, say, hallucination of persecution. What percentage of curescan you show there?"

  "Twenty per cent absolute recoveries, and forty per cent definiteimprovements," the doctor replied promptly, and as the Professor evincedunmistakable astonishment at so high a percentage, Dr. Biron took himfamiliarly by the arm and drew him along. "I will show you a patient whoactually is to be sent home in a day or two. I believe that she iscompletely cured, or on the very point of being completely cured."

  A woman of about forty was sitting in one of the gardens by the side ofan attendant, quietly sewing. Dr. Biron paused to draw his visitor'sparticular attention to her.

  "That lady belongs to one of the best of our great merchant families.She is Mme. Alice Rambert, wife of Etienne Rambert, the rubber merchant.She has been under my care for nearly ten months. When she came here shewas in the last stage of debility and anaemia and suffered from the mostcharacteristic hallucination of all: she thought that assassins were allround her. I have built up her physical system, and now I have cured hermind. At the present moment that lady is not mad at all, in the propersense of the term."

  "She never shows any symptoms of reverting to her morbid condition?"Professor Swelding enquired with interest.

  "Never."

  "And would not, even if violently upset?"

  "I do not think so."

  "May I talk to her?"

  "Certainly," and Dr. Biron led the visitor towards the seat on which thepatient was sitting. "Madame Rambert," he said, "may I present ProfessorSwelding to you? He has heard that you are here and would like to payhis respects."

  Mme. Rambert put down her needlework and rose and looked at the Danishprofessor.

  "I am delighted to make the gentleman's acquaintance," she said, "but Ishould like to know how he was aware of my existence, my dear doctor."

  "I regret that I cannot claim to know you, madame," said ProfessorSwelding, replying for Dr. Biron, "but I know that in addressing you Ishall be speaking to the inmate of this institution who will testifymost warmly to the scientific skill and the devotion of Dr. Biron."

  "At all events," Mme. Rambert replied coldly, "he carries his kindnessto the extent of wishing his patients never to be dull, since he bringsunexpected visitors to see them."

  The phrase was an implicit reproach of Dr. Biron's too ready inclinationto exhibit his patients as so many rare and curious wild animals, and itstung him all the more because he was convinced that Mme. Rambert wasperfectly sane. He pretended not to hear what she said, giving someorder to the attendant, Berthe, who was standing respectfully by.

  "I understand, madame," Professor Swelding replied gently. "You objectto my visit as an intrusion?"

  Mme. Rambert had picked up her work and already was sewing again, butsuddenly she sprang up, so abruptly that the professor recoiled, andexclaimed sharply:

  "Who called me? Who called me? Who----"

  The Professor was attempting to speak when the patient interrupted him.

  "Oh!" she cried, "Alice! Alice! His voice--his voice! Go away! Youfrighten me! Who spoke? Go away! Oh, help! help!" and she fled screamingtowards the far end of the garden, with the attendant and Dr. Bironrunning after her. With all the cleverness of the insane she managed toelude them, and continued to scream. "Oh, I recognised him! Do go away,I implore you! Go! Murder! Murder!"

  The attendant tried to reassure the doctor.

  "Don't be frightened, sir. She is not dangerous. I expect the visit fromthat gentleman has upset her."

  The poor demented creature had taken refuge behind a clump of shrubs,and was standing there with eyes dilated with anguish fixed on theProfessor and hand pointing to him, trembling in every limb.

  "Fantomas!" she cried: "Fantomas! There--I know him! Oh, help!"

  The scene was horribly distressing, and Dr. Biron put an end to it byordering the attendant to take Mme. Rambert to her room and induce herto rest, and to send at once for M. Perret. Then he turned to ProfessorSwelding.

  "I am greatly distressed by this incident, Professor. It proves that thecure of this poor creature is by no means so assured as I had believed.But there are other cases which will not shake your faith in my judgmentlike this, I hope. Shall we go on?"

  Professor Swelding tried to comfort the doctor.

  "The brain is a pathetically frail thing," he said. "You could not havea more striking case to prove it: that poor lady, whom you believed tobe cured, suddenly having a typical crisis of her form of insanityprovoked by--what? Neither you nor I look particularly like assassins,do we?" And he followed Dr. Biron, who was much discomfited, to be shownother matters of interest.

  * * * * *

  "Better now, madame? Are you going to be good?"

  Mme. Rambert was reclining on a sofa in her room, watching herattendant, Berthe, moving about and tidying up the slight disordercaused by her recent ministrations. The patient made a little gesture ofdespair.

  "Poor Berthe!" she said. "If you only knew how unhappy I am, and howsorry for having given way to that panic just now!"

  "Oh, that was nothing," said the attendant. "The doctor won't attach anyimportance to that."

  "Yes, he will," said the patient with a weary smile. "I think he willattach importance to it, and in any case it will delay my discharge fromthis place."

  "Not a bit of it, madame. Why, you know they have written to your hometo say you are cured?"

  Mme. Rambert did not reply for a minute or two. Then she said:

  "Tell me, Berthe, what do you understand by the word 'cured'?"

  The attendant was rather nonplussed.

  "Why, it means that you are better: that you are quite well."

  Her patient smiled bitterly.

  "It is true that my health is better now, and that my stay here has doneme good. But that is not what I was talking about. What is your opinionabout my madness?"

  "You mustn't think about that," the attendant remonstrated. "You are nomore mad than I am."

  "Oh, I know the worst symptom of madness is to declare you are not mad,"Mme. Rambert answered sadly; "so I will be careful not to say it,Berthe. But, apart from this last panic, the reason for which I cannottell you, have you ever known me do, or heard me say, anything that wasutterly devoid of reason, in all the time that I have been in yourcharge?"

  Struck by the remark, the attendant, in spite of herself, was obliged toconfess:

  "No, I never have--that is----"

  "That is," Mme. Rambert finished for her, "I have sometimes protested toyou that I was the victim of an abominable persecution, and that therewas a tragic mystery in my life: in short, that if I was shut up here,it was because someone wanted me to be shut up. Come now, Berthe, hasit never occurred to you that perhaps I was telling the truth?"

  The attendant had been shaken for a minute by the calm self-possessionof her patient; now she resumed her professional manner.

  "Don't worry any more, Mme. Rambert, for you know as well as I do thatDr. Biron acknowledges that you are cured now. You are going to leavethe place and resume your ordinary life."

  "Ah, Berthe," said Mme. Rambert, twisting and untwisting her hands, "ifyou only knew! Why, if I leave this sanatorium, or rather if the doctorsends me back to my family, I shall certainly be put in some othersanatorium before two days are past! No, it isn't merely an idea that Ihave got into my head," she went on as the attendant protested. "Listen:during the whole ten months that I have been here, I have never onceprotested that I was not insane. I was quite glad to be in this place!For I felt safe here. But now I am not sure of that. I must go, but Imust not go merely to return to my hu
sband! I must be free, free to goto those who will help me to escape from the horrible trap in which Ihave spent the last few years of my life!"

  Mme. Rambert's earnest tone convinced the attendant in spite of her owninstinct.

  "Yes?" she said enquiringly.

  "I suppose you know that I am rich, Berthe?" Mme. Rambert went on. "Ihave always been generous to you, and higher fees are paid for me herethan are paid for any other patient. Would you like to make sure of yourfuture for ever, and quite easily? I have heard you talk about gettingmarried. Shall I give you a dot? You might lose your situation here, butif you trust me I will make it up to you a hundredfold, if you will helpme to escape from this place! And it cannot be too soon! I have not aminute to lose!"

  Berthe tried to get away from her patient, but Mme. Rambert held herback, almost by force.

  "Tell me your price," she said. "How much do you want? A thousandpounds? Two thousand pounds?" and as the attendant, bewildered by themere suggestion of such fabulous sums, was silent, Mme. Rambert slippeda diamond ring off her finger and held it out to the young woman. "Takethat as proof of my sincerity," she said. "If anybody asks me about it Iwill say that I have lost it. And from now, Berthe, begin to prepare away for me to escape! The very night that I am free I swear you shall bea rich woman!"

  Berthe got up, swaying, hardly knowing if she was awake or dreaming.

  "A rich woman!" she murmured. "A rich woman!" and over the girl's facethere suddenly crept a horrible expression of cupidity and desire.