As will be seen in my report, I employed Jean Lebris for several ends, as follows.
I made use of his intermediation to observe electromagnetic phenomena visually, one after another. My previous studies had not made a specialist in electricity of me, but I obtained the most recent books and purchased a good deal of apparatus. On the pretext of self-education, I obtained authorization to visit, in company with Jean Lebris, the dynamos and transformers of the hydroelectric plant at Saône. Eventually, with the aid of his memory, we were able to replicate, or very nearly, the experiments carried out by Doctor Prosope.
Jean’s collaboration was no less precious to me in the exercise of my profession. Placed in the room next to my consulting-room, he distinguished through the wall the nervous systems of certain patients whose nervous systems I thought it worthwhile to submit to electroscopic examination, and more than one was cured, thanks to the indications I obtained by that means.
Finally, I must be careful not to omit the psychophysiological experiments in which I employed that admirable spectator of the functioning of the mind. Here, though, the results were mediocre, the mechanism being entirely unknown, very delicate and complicated. To obtain more success, to overcome the rapidity and the smallness of the phenomena, it would be necessary to possess some instrument that would be, relative to Jean Lebris’ electroscopes, what magnifying glasses are in relation to our eyes.
Unfortunately, I was forced to limit my endeavors to the utilization of the scientific observer, without being able to extend them to the captivating study of the eye itself. On that matter, Jean was always unshakable, rebelling against any attempted investigation. “When I’m dead,” he repeated. “When I’m dead, you’ll have all the latitude…”
That sentence was so painful to me that I eventually abandoned my persistence. Besides, the artificial eyes were difficult to access. There was only one sure means…but I’ll talk about that later.
Thus, with my mind content and my heart feverish with hope, I lived intensely for weeks on end, sometimes forgetting, in my egotism, that Jean Lebris’ days were numbered, and forgetting just as easily that he was enjoying life, and that his thin face was illuminated by a happiness that nothing seemed to disturb—not the inexorable approach of the end, nor the privation of true sight, nor the menacing existence of the terrible Prosope.
The latter, moreover, offered no reminder of his existence. An attentive surveillance, although suspicious, procured me no evidence of the slightest danger. The mysterious doctors, rebuffed by the difficulties of the enterprise, or perhaps confident of Jean’s mutism, seemed to have reconciled themselves to his flight. Besides, our precautions never relaxed, in the sense that Jean was always armed, and never went out alone, and that my vigilance, by virtue of becoming habitual, was no less that might be expected of a policeman.
Until Baron d’Arcet’s gymkhana, no incident worthy of note transpired. Even the episode that I am about to describe was a sentimental occurrence, which remained personal to me and passed unperceived.
If God exists, God is my witness, Fanny, that I had no more intention of declaring my love for you on that day than any other. Oh, I certainly sensed that the moment was approaching. I certainly felt that everything was encouraging me to love you: your contented glances, your friendly smiles, the joys and disappointments that I saw passing over your face…a thousand things, a thousand trivia. Everything! But that was so good in itself! And then, deep down, yes: I was afraid. At my age, one already knows so many sad stories…one has already seen so many lovers go cruelly astray!
That gymkhana was in my destiny.
Do you remember what a fine day it was? It was Sunday the first of September. The entire population of Belvoux had set off for the Château d’Arcet. The three kilometer route was thronged with pedestrians. You had come in the La Helleries’ limousine; I had overtaken you, in my sports car, in Chaufour…
And the main attraction of the gymkhana, the automobile race—do you remember that, Fanny?
There were seven competitors, each accompanied by a young woman. I was sure in advance that you would decline the offers of the other six in order to come and sit next to me, behind the windscreen of my roadster. What joy you gave me, however, in answering my certainty!
There were seven of us, who had to struggle at low speed, jousting skillfully through a labyrinth of skittles, maintain our equilibrium on a swaying bridge like a tightrope-walker, design figures and move in reverse, then race against the clock going back and forth ten times along a hundred-meter track…
I can still see the noble esplanade of the château. I can hear the acclamations that greeted my modest victory. We were covered with flowers. As I went back to the car park, I understood that the public sympathy enveloped both of us, bringing us together. I read one unanimous thought on all the faces. It said: “What a handsome couple!” as we passed by. A sagacious enthusiasm betrothed us…
You were divinely pretty; you had colored cheeks, sparkling eyes. You let all the pleasure you took in that petty triumph show. It was mingled with a slight nervousness, the sporting tourney having had its moments of vertigo, clenched fists, anxiety…it seemed to me that I had won two prizes instead of one!
Our friends, politely complicit, affectionate and merry, made us come back together in my roadster full of roses. A spontaneous conspiracy had been contrived. One could have sworn that our destiny had just become apparent to everyone, and that everyone wanted to contribute to its advent.
We glided smoothly over the shady road. The windscreen, in its garlanded frame, reflected your clouded image for me. On the pretext of avoiding the dust of other vehicles, I took a side road. Someone told me that we were seen from afar, speeding through the fields like a bush escaped from a rose-garden. Soon, we were out of sight.
Then I took your naked hand and, as you let it remain in mine, I raised it to my lips…where I had no need to support it.
You loved me! Oh, there was a God, that day!
You looked at me. I shivered. Our silence was tantamount to a promise. A few minutes later, I said to you: “Would you like to get married next month?”
Awakening abruptly, you exclaimed; “Oh! No—we can’t…”
I was astonished. “Why not? We’re free. What’s the point of waiting? And then, you see, I’d so much like Jean Lebris to be still here!”
“Jean Lebris!” you said. “But it’s precisely because of him…”
You looked at me with a surprised expression, and I interrogated you with a fearful gaze.
“I thought…I thought that we shouldn’t say anything to him,” you murmured, your eyes lowered.
A thunderbolt fell upon me. I must have gone frightfully pale. You seized my hand again, saying: “My love, be patient until the end. I think you’ve realized…the poor boy would be so unhappy! Oh, don’t suppose that he has confessed it to me…no! But I’ve understood correctly. Can I break his heart? Can I make him suffer, when he will soon be leaving us? Alas, my love, you were fearful yourself just now that Jean Lebris might no longer be here in two months to witness our marriage. So it’s necessary to wait, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I replied. “We’ll wait. That’s all right. That’s only right. You’re the best…I admire you. I love you.”
“I love you too,” you said to me, slowly.
The blood returned to my face.
We went back, hand in hand. At every instant, I looked at you as one breathes the scent of a flower. The roses, of which you were one, perfumed our privacy. Some left their petals behind us, stripped by the wind of the car’s velocity.
VIII. Radiography
I was bad-tempered and depressed. And I was resentful. So, ever since my debut in the role of lover, I had experienced the traditional blindness! Jean was in love with Fanny, and I, who lived so close to them, had not noticed anything! But was it really possible? What if, after all, Fanny were mistaken? She might have misinterpreted Jean’s gentleness. The timid boy was tender, a
ffectionate; his friendship, his most platonic inclinations, were expressed in kind attentions that an adulated young woman might believe to be inspired by other sentiments…
I interrogated my memories, studying the past like an examining magistrate—and then a multitude of facts became apparent…
For several days, I spied on the behavior of the blind man and—shamefully—Fanny.
She was right. We had to wait. We had to remain silent.
“When I’m dead!” Now, Jean Lebris’ sinister words had a double meaning. The completion of that funereal term would permit me both to learn Prosope’s secret and marry Fanny Grive. A strange chance accumulated consolations in advance around the death of my friend Jean.
There is no doubt that, from the moment of that discovery, I put an unparalleled obstinacy into the prolongation of his life to its utmost limit. I have nothing with which to reproach myself on that score, thank God! And if I am tormented by some remorse today, it’s not for having failed in my most sacred duty…
It is only for having not always resisted the need to separate them: her and him.
Sometimes, in fact, an intolerable anxiety gripped me. In spite of all the proofs of affection that Fanny lavished upon me in secret, I nurtured the dull anguish of jealousy. I was ready to fear Jean’s diaphanous beauty, his touching youth, the nuanced delicacy of his sensitive soul, the all-powerful attraction of pity, the contagion of love and even that particular ardor which is the prerogative of consumptives. To know that they were together exasperated me; in addition, though, I was now reluctant to be a third party to their conversations—for the sight of the two young people side by side irritated me like a sarcasm, and, even though I was ordinarily in command of my attitudes, even though my face was accustomed to obey me, I feared that Jean Lebris—who could see emotions setting fire to our nerves as the rest of us see them setting complexions alight—might perceive my anxiety. Finally, I found it difficult to bear the thought of my fiancée being exposed to the indiscretion of those scientific eyes.
In consequence, I multiplied opportunities to be alone with Fanny, and I dragged Jean Lebris into a precipitate series of experiments which obliged him to spend a great deal of time under my roof. By virtue of that, Science gained a number of observations on alternating current, induction and the localization of intellectual centers, but I must admit that Jean Lebris lent himself to the exigencies that so often deprived him of the pleasure of Fanny’s company with an ill grace. When he protested, I appealed to his patriotism, representing each of our acquisitions as a national enrichment; he relented in his grumbling, yielding joylessly, and we resumed our work, which was limited only by the requirements of his health.
Toward the end of September, that inspired me with considerable alarm. It was necessary to space out the experiments, which became more exhausting as the finesse of the sixth sense increased incessantly. On the other hand, after a serious auscultation, it seemed to me indispensable to take an X-ray of my friend.
In spite of my objurgations, Jean Lebris had so far refused to do that, denying that it could be useful for any other purpose than allowing me to perceive the structure of his electroscopic eyes. “I can see you coming!” he told me. “Your ruse sticks out a mile. Remember what you promised me? If I start to give in, after this sitting you’ll impose another, and I’ll turn into a laboratory animal!”
I told him forcefully that there was to be no more beating about the bush, that I no longer had the right to give in to his caprices and that it was necessary to let himself be X-rayed, under penalty of the most serious consequences. I added, on my honor, that scientific curiosity played no part in my motivation and that, niggardly as his suspicions were, I would nevertheless respect them, swearing to him that, if he so desired, I would limit the radioscopy to the examination of his lungs, and not repeat the operation unless it became absolutely necessary.
“It’s a matter of life and death,” I continued.
“It’s a matter of a few weeks more of less,” Jeans rectified. “Oh, don’t think that life is so burdensome to me that its duration is a matter of indifference! Life is beautiful—and I’ve never found it more delightful than it is at present…” He continued seriously, as if in a dream: “For some time now, life has been an authentic celebration for me.”
“Well, then?” I queried, controlling my voice and my nerves.
He placed his hand on my arm. “It’s just that I don’t have any right to this happiness, you see. I don’t have the right to interrupt the living in their lives, to hold them back in their own journey to Happiness. I’m granting myself, at this moment, an unexpected luxury—I’ll be forgiven, I hope—but it’s necessary that it doesn’t last long. Let me go at my natural hour, Bare. To surpass it would be, on my part, an…indelicacy…an abuse—I might even say: a crime.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I said, hoarsely. “I don’t know anyone who isn’t steadfast in wanting you to get better. Personally, I beg you in the name of all those who are dear to you to let yourself be X-rayed.”
He shook his head. “No,” he said. “Let’s not mention it again.”
I had the intuition that there was only one influence sufficiently powerful to make him alter his decision. That same day, while playing tennis at the Brissots’, I told Fanny Grive what had happened.
“He’ll certainly expect me to have had recourse to your influence,” I told her, “but the important thing is to convince him, for I believe that he’s very ill.”
Then I told her about the grounds on which Jean Lebris had based his refusal—while keeping quiet, of course, about everything concerning the electroscopic eyes.
It seemed to me that she paled slightly.
I had only come to the Brissots’ to meet her and talk to her privately. We were walking along a pathway in the grounds, shielded from all gazes. “Fanny!” I exclaimed, on seeing her go pale. And I stared at her anxiously, bitten by hideous jealousy.
Without raising her head, though, she plunged the gaze of her grey eyes pensively into mine. Then a sad smile, imperceptibly mocking, softened her features, in which I read something akin to reproach and pity.
Confused and desperate, I stammered impassioned excuses. My imploring hands reached out for hers.
I have kept a hazel-leaf that had brushed my temple at the moment of our first kiss. It is here before me on my desk, still green but already withered…
The next day, Jean Lebris capitulated and it was agreed that I would perform the radiography the following morning.
During the war, Belvoux hospital, taken over by the military, had been provided with a quantity of apparatus, some of which had remained at the disposal of the civil staff after the evacuation. The radiographic laboratory, installed in a special outbuilding, was one of the most advanced that could be found. It was rarely used, and I had assumed its direction.
I spent the afternoon at the hospital, checking the machine and assuring myself that it was in working order. Everything was as it should be. I told my assistant that he would not be present the next day’s session and that he had, in consequence, to make the preparations with the utmost care. Finally, still hoping that Jean Lebris would permit me to photograph the interior of his electroscopes, and perhaps entertaining the subconscious idea of making them appear and fixing their image without his being aware of it, I prepared several sensitive plates.
Excitement made me very tense, and a great many thoughts crossed my mind at the sight of that milky screen, on which so many various things would be outlined for me, if I wished: where Jean Lebris’ skeleton would tell me itself, in an anticipated apparition, the date of his death; or, perhaps—but it was not up to me to strike out that “perhaps”—the formidable invention of the sixth sense would begin to emerge from its impenetrable mystery.
Dusk was falling when I left the hospital.
Back home, I dined rapidly and started looking through the notes that I had made for the composition of my technical report.
I was distracted from my work by a sinister rumor, the noise of hurried footsteps, and a humming noise. The alarm bell began to ring, and a siren began to sound the general alert in the darkness…
The fire was turning the Saint-Fortunat quarter red. The high roofs of the hospital stood out in silhouette against the background of the blaze. So far as I could tell, the focal point of the catastrophe was within the establishment’s own grounds. My throat constricted.
“Prosope!” I cried, in the solitude.
A few minutes later, my apprehensions were confirmed. Having run to the location, I could only observe the annihilation of the radiographic laboratory in crackling flames. Fortunately, the isolation of the outbuilding permitted the disaster to be contained, and the wards were preserved from the fire.
IX. The Last Days of the Phenomenon
The inquiry was unable to discover how the fire had started. It was in vain that I suggested malevolence; more than one person suspected that I did so in order to cover up my own responsibility, to hide some imprudence that I had committed—and I realized that it would have been better to say nothing.
Besides, was it not an “imprudence” to have made preparation for the radiography session without any discretion? For me, the truth was not in any doubt. Prosope was watching; he had hired spies in Belvoux. That being admitted, it was necessary to deduce that Jean Lebris was threatened by direct action.
That was also the opinion of the interested party. Jean and I deliberated. I argued that he should let me warn the police about the dangers surrounding him, but the difficulty of doing so without revealing the secret of his eyes put him off that course and, for that reason, I was obliged to renew my promises of silence. It was agreed, therefore, that we would each take all possible precautions on our own account, and the matter rested there.
Nevertheless, I was momentarily on the point of confiding my fears to Mademoiselle Grive. In fact, Jean could not and would not suddenly stop going out with her, and it appeared to me rather reckless for that imperiled invalid to wander in the woods alone with an unsuspecting and defenseless child. There too I would have like to intervene, but the damned secret still paralyzed my good will. Then again, even if Fanny had accepted vague explanations as to the cause of my anxiety, what measures could she have taken that Jean would not have seen through? How, for example, could the young woman be furnished with a revolver without the false blind man perceiving it and blaming me for it?
The Doctored Man Page 17