Volume III Part 65 (1/2)
Thanks to repose, the salutary rules and comforts with which he was surrounded, the features of Morel were no longer pale, ghastly, and wrinkled by an unhealthy meagerness; his full face, slightly colored, announced the return of health; but a melancholy smile, a certain fixed expression, indicated that his reason was not yet completely re-established.
When the doctor entered, Morel, seated and bent over a table, imitated the exercise of his trade of a lapidary, saying, ”Thirteen hundred francs--thirteen hundred francs, or Louise to the scaffold--thirteen hundred francs; let us work--work--work.”
This aberration, of which the attacks were becoming less and less frequent, had always been the primordial symptom of his madness. The physician, at first vexed to find Morel at this moment under the influence of his monomania, soon hoped to make it serve his project; he took from his pocket a purse containing sixty-five golden louis, which he had placed there for the purpose, poured the gold into his hand, and said suddenly to Morel, who, profoundly absorbed by his ideal occupation, had not perceived the arrival of the doctor:
”My good Morel! you have worked enough; you have earned the thirteen hundred francs which you need to save Louise--here they are.” And the doctor threw on the table his handful of gold.
”Louise saved!” cried the lapidary, clutching the gold eagerly. ”I will run to the notary;” and, rising precipitately, he rushed to the door.
”Come!” cried the doctor, with a lively anxiety, for the instantaneous cure of the lapidary might depend upon this first impression.
Hardly had he said ”Come,” than Louise appeared at the door, at the moment that her father reached it. Morel, stupefied, recoiled two steps, and dropped the gold which he had held. For some moments, he looked at Louise with profound amazement, not yet recognizing her. He seemed, however, to be endeavoring to collect his thoughts; then, approaching her by degrees, he looked at her with an uneasy and timid curiosity. Louise, trembling with emotion, with difficulty restrained her tears, while the doctor, recommending her, by a sign, to remain silent, watched attentively the smallest movements of the lapidary's countenance. He, leaning toward his daughter, began to turn pale; he pa.s.sed both his hands over his forehead, covered with sweat; then, taking a step toward her, he wished to speak, but his voice died upon his lips, his paleness increased, and he looked around him with surprise, as if he were just awaking from a dream.
”Well, well,” whispered the doctor to Louise, ”it is a good sign; when I say 'Come,' throw yourself into his arms, calling him father.”
The lapidary placed his hands on his chest, looking at himself (if we may so express it) from head to foot, as if to convince himself of his ident.i.ty. His features expressed a sad uncertainty: instead of fixing his eyes on his daughter, he seemed as if he wished to hide himself from her sight. Then he said, in a low and broken voice, ”No! no! a dream--where am I? impossible--a dream--it is not she.” Then, seeing the gold scattered on the floor, ”And this gold--I do not remember--am I awake? My head turns--I dare not look--I am ashamed: it is not Louise.”
”Come!” said the doctor, in a loud voice. ”Father, recognize me! I am Louise, your daughter!” cried she, bursting into tears, and throwing herself into his arms; at the same moment, Madame Morel, Rigolette, Madame George, Germain, and the Pipelets entered the apartment.
”Oh! heavens!” said Morel, whom Louise loaded with caresses, ”where am I?
what do they want with me? what has taken place? I cannot believe.” Then, after a pause, he took suddenly the head of Louise between his two hands, looked at her fixedly, and cried, after some moments of increasing emotion, ”Louise!”
”He is saved,” said the doctor.
”My husband! my poor Morel!” cried the wife of the lapidary, running to join Louise.
”My wife!” said Morel; ”my wife and child!”
”And I also, M. Morel,” said Rigolette; ”all your friends are collected around you.”
”All your friends! do you see, M. Morel?” added Germain.
”Miss Rigolette! M. Germain!” said the lapidary, recognizing each personage with new astonishment.
”And your old friends of the lodge, too!” said Anastasia, approaching in her turn, with Alfred; ”here are the Pipelets--the old Pipelets--friends till death! Daddy Morel, here is a great day.”
”M. Pipelet and his wife! so many people around me! it seems to me so long since! And, but, it is Louise, is it not?” cried he with emotion, pressing his daughter to his heart. ”It is you, Louise? very sure?”
”My poor father, yes; it is I; it is my mother: here are all your friends--you shall leave us no more--we shall be happy now--very happy.”
”Very happy. But wait until I recollect--all happy; it seems to me, however, that they came to conduct you to prison, Louise.”
”Yes, my father; but I have been acquitted--you see it--I am here--near to you.”
”Wait still--wait--my memory returns.” Then he said, with affright, ”And the notary?”
”Dead.”
”Dead--he! then I believe you; we can be happy; but where am I? how am I here? for how long a time, and why? I do not exactly recollect.”