by Eugène Sue
CHAPTER XXX. THE TORTURE.
"Reverend fathers," said Dr. Baleinier, graciously, to the three, "Ithank you for your kind aid. What you have to do is very simple, and,by the blessing of heaven, this operation will save the life of our dearFather Rodin."
The three black-gowns cast up their eyes piously, and then bowedaltogether, like one man. Rodin, indifferent to what was passing aroundhim, never ceased an instant to write or reflect. Nevertheless, in spiteof his apparent calmness, he felt such difficulty in breathing, thatmore than once Dr. Baleinier had turned round uneasily, as he heard thestifled rattling in the throat of the sick man. Making a sign to hispupil, the doctor approached Rodin and said to him: "Come, reverendfather; this is the important moment. Courage!"
No sign of alarm was expressed in the Jesuit's countenance. His featuresremained impassible as those of a corpse. Only, his little reptile eyessparkled still more brightly in their dark cavities. For a moment,he looked round at the spectators of this scene; then, taking his penbetween his teeth, he folded and wafered another letter, placed it onthe table beside the bed, and nodded to Dr. Baleinier, as if to say: "Iam ready."
"You must take off your flannel waistcoat, and your shirt, father."Rodin hesitated an instant, and the doctor resumed: "It is absolutelynecessary, father."
Aided by Baleinier, Rodin obeyed, whilst the doctor added, no doubt tospare his modesty: "We shall only require the chest, right and left, mydear father."
And now, Rodin, stretched upon his back, with his dirty night-cap stillon his head, exposed the upper part of a livid trunk, or rather, thebony cage of a skeleton, for the shadows of the ribs and cartilagesencircled the skin with deep, black lines. As for the arms, theyresembled bones twisted with cord and covered with tanned parchment.
"Come, M. Rousselet, the apparatus!" said Baleinier.
Then addressing the three Jesuits, he added: "Please draw near,gentlemen; what you have to do is very simple, as you will see."
It was indeed very simple. The doctor gave to each of his fourassistants a sort of little steel tripod about two inches in diameterand three in height; the circular centre of this tripod was filled withcotton; the instrument was held in the left hand by means of a woodenhandle. In the right hand each assistant held a small tin tube abouteighteen inches long; at one end was a mouthpiece to receive the lipsof the operator, and the other spread out so as to form a cover to thelittle tripod. These preparations had nothing alarming in them. Fatherd'Aigrigny and the prelate, who looked on from a little distance,could not understand how this operation should be so painful. They soonunderstood it.
Dr. Baleinier, having thus provided his four assistants, made themapproach Rodin, whose bed had been rolled into the middle of the room.Two of them were placed on one side, two on the other.
"Now, gentlemen," said Dr. Baleinier, "set light to the cotton; placethe lighted part on the skin of his reverence, by means of the tripodwhich contains the wick; cover the tripod with the broad part of thetube, and then blow through the other end to keep up the fire. It isvery simple, as you see."
It was, in fact, full of the most patriarchal and primitive ingenuity.Four lighted cotton rocks, so disposed as to burn very slowly, wereapplied to the two sides of Rodin's chest. This is vulgarly called themoxa. The trick is done, when the whole thickness of the skin has beenburnt slowly through. It lasts seven or eight minutes. They say thatan amputation is nothing to it. Rodin had watched the preparationswith intrepid curiosity. But, at the first touch of the four fires,he writhed like a serpent, without being able to utter a cry. Even theexpression of pain was denied him. The four assistants being disturbedby, the sudden start of Rodin, it was necessary to begin again.
"Courage, my dear father! offer these sufferings to the Lord!" said Dr.Baleinier, in a sanctified tone. "I told you the operation would bevery painful; but then it is salutary in proportion. Come; you that haveshown such decisive resolution, do not fail at the last movement!"
Rodin had closed his eyes, conquered by the first agony of pain. He nowopened them, and looked at the doctor as if ashamed of such weakness.And yet on the sides of his chest were four large, bleeding wounds--soviolent had been the first singe. As he again extended himself on thebed of torture, Rodin made a sign that he wished to write. The doctorgave him the pen, and he wrote as follows, by way of memorandum; "It isbetter not to lose any time. Inform Baron Tripeaud of the warrant issuedagainst Leonard, so that he may be on his guard."
Having written this note, the Jesuit gave it to Dr. Baleinier, to handit to Father d'Aigrigny, who was as much amazed as the doctor and thecardinal, at such extraordinary presence of mind in the midst of suchhorrible pain. Rodin, with his eyes fixed on the reverend father, seemedto wait with impatience for him to leave the room to execute his orders.Guessing the thought of Rodin, the doctor whispered Father d'Aigrigny,who went out.
"Come, reverend father," said the doctor, "we must begin again. Thistime do not move."
Rodin did not answer, but clasped his hands over his head, closed hiseyes, and presented his chest. It was a strange, lugubrious, almostfantastic spectacle. The three priests, in their long black gowns,leaned over this body, which almost resembled a corpse, and blowingthrough their tubes into the chest of the patient, seemed as if pumpingup his blood by some magic charm. A sickening odor of burnt flesh beganto spread through the silent chamber, and each assistant heard a slightcrackling beneath the smoking trivet; it was the skin of Rodin givingway to the action of fire, and splitting open in four different parts ofhis chest. The sweat poured from his livid face, which it made to shine;a few locks of his gray hair stood up stiff and moist from his temples.Sometimes the spasms were so violent, that the veins swelled on hisstiffened arms, and were stretched like cords ready to break.
Enduring this frightful torture with as much intrepid resignation asthe savage whose glory consists in despising pain, Rodin gathered hisstrength and courage from the hope--we had almost said the certainty--oflife. Such was the make of this dauntless character, such the energy ofthis powerful mind, that, in the midst of indescribable torments,his one fixed idea never left him. During the rare intervals ofsuffering--for pain is equal even at this degree of intensity--Rodinstill thought of the Rennepont inheritance, and calculated his chances,and combined his measures, feeling that he had not a minute to lose. Dr.Baleinier watched him with extreme attention, waiting for the effectsof the reaction of pain upon the patient, who seemed already to breathewith less difficulty.
Suddenly Rodin placed his hand on his forehead, as if struck with somenew idea, and turning his head towards Dr. Baleinier, made a sign to himto suspend the operation.
"I must tell you, reverend father," answered the doctor, "that it is nothalf finished, and, if we leave off, the renewal will be more painful--"
Rodin made a sign that he did not care, and that he wanted to write.
"Gentlemen, stop a moment," said Dr. Baleinier; "keep down your moxas,but do not blow the fire."
So the fire was to burn slowly, instead of fiercely, but still uponthe skin of the patient. In spite of this pain, less intense, but stillsharp and keen, Rodin, stretched upon his back, began to write, holdingthe paper above his head. On the first sheet he traced some alphabeticsigns, part of a cipher known to himself alone. In the midst of thetorture, a luminous idea had crossed his mind; fearful of forgetting itamidst his sufferings, he now took note of it. On another paper he wrotethe following, which was instantly delivered to Father d'Aigrigny: "SendB. immediately to Faringhea, for the report of the last few days withregard to Djalma, and let B. bring it hither on the instant." Fatherd'Aigrigny went out to execute this new order. The cardinal approacheda little nearer to the scene of the operation, for, in spite of the badodor of the room, he took delight in seeing the Jesuit half roasted,having long cherished against him the rancor of an Italian and a priest.
"Come, reverend father," said the doctor to Rodin, "continue to beadmirably courageous, and your chest will free itself. You have still a
bitter moment to go through--and then I have good hope."
The patient resumed his former position. The moment Father d'Aigrignyreturned, Rodin questioned him with a look, to which the reverend fatherreplied by a nod. At a sign from the doctor, the four assistants beganto blow through the tubes with all their might. This increase of torturewas so horrible, that, in spite of his self-control, Rodin gnashed histeeth, started convulsively, and so expanded his palpitating chest,that, after a violent spasm, there rose from his throat and lungs ascream of terrific pain--but it was free, loud, sonorous.
"The chest is free!" cried the doctor, in triumph. "The lungs haveplay--the voice returns--he is saved!--Blow, gentlemen, blow; and,reverend father, cry out as much as you please: I shall be delighted tohear you, for it will give you relief. Courage! I answer for the result.It is a wonderful cure. I will publish it by sound of trumpet."
"Allow me, doctor," whispered Father d'Aigrigny, as he approached Dr.Baleinier; "the cardinal can witness, that I claimed beforehand thepublication of this affair--as a miraculous fact."
"Let it be miraculous then," answered Dr. Baleinier, disappointed--forhe set some value on his own work.
On hearing he was saved, Rodin though his sufferings were perhaps worsethan ever, for the fire had now pierced the scarf-skin, assumed almostan infernal beauty. Through the painful contraction of his featuresshone the pride of savage triumph; the monster felt that he was becomingonce more strong and powerful, and he seemed conscious the evils thathis fatal resurrection was to cause. And so, of still writhing beneaththe flames, he pronounced these words, the first that struggled from hischest: "I told you I should live!"
"You told us true," cried the doctor, feeling his pulse; "thecirculation is now full and regular, the lungs are free. The reaction iscomplete. You are saved."
At this moment, the last shreds of cotton had burnt out. The trivetswere withdrawn, and on the skeleton trunk of Rodin were seen four largeround blisters. The skin still smoked, and the raw flesh was visiblebeneath. In one of his sudden movements, a lamp had been misplaced, andone of these burns was larger than the other, presenting as it were tothe eye a double circle. Rodin looked down upon his wounds. Aftersome seconds of silent contemplation, a strange smile curled his lips.Without changing his position, he glanced at Father d'Aigrigny with anexpression impossible to describe, and said to him, as he slowlycounted the wounds touching them with his flat and dirty nail:"Father d'Aigrigny, what an omen!--Look here! one Rennepont--twoRenneponts--three Renneponts--four Renneponts--where is then thefifth!--Ah! here--this wound will count for two. They are twins."(41)And he emitted a little dry, bitter laugh. Father d'Aigrigny, thecardinal, and Dr. Baleinier, alone understood the sense of thesemysterious and fatal words, which Rodin soon completed by a terribleallusion, as he exclaimed, with prophetic voice, and almost inspiredair: "Yes, I say it. The impious race will be reduced to ashes, likethe fragments of this poor flesh. I say it, and it will be so. I said Iwould live--and I do live!"
(41) Jacques Rennepont being dead, and Gabriel out of the field, inconsequence of his donation, there remained only five persons of thefamily--Rose and Blanche, Djalma, Adrienne, and Hardy.