"Yes, madame,--No. 9, next to the print-shop."

"Come in, monsieur, come in; we shall be only too happy to receive you,"

cried Thuillier, who, on hearing the name, had hurried out to meet the savant.

"Hein! you scamp," said the learned man, turning upon the man-servant, who had retired, seeing that the matter was being settled amicably, "I told you I should get in."

Pere Picot was a tall old man, with an angular, stern face, who, despite the corrective of a blond wig with heavy curls, and that of the pacific green shade we have already mentioned, expressed on his large features, upon which the fury of study had produced a surface of leaden pallor, a snappish and quarrelsome disposition. Of this he had already given proof before entering the dining-room, where every one now rose to receive him.

His costume consisted of a huge frock-coat, something between a paletot and a dressing-gown, between which an immense waistcoat of iron-gray cloth, fastened from the throat to the pit of the stomach with two rows of b.u.t.tons, hussar fashion, formed a sort of buckler. The trousers, though October was nearing its close, were made of black lasting, and gave testimony to long service by the projection of a darn on the otherwise polished surface covering the knees, the polish being produced by the rubbing of the hands upon those parts. But, in broad daylight, the feature of the old savant's appearance which struck the eye most vividly was a pair of Patagonian feet, imprisoned in slippers of beaver cloth, the which, moulded upon the mountainous elevations of gigantic bunions, made the spectator think, involuntarily, of the back of a dromedary or an advanced case of elephantiasis.

Once installed in a chair which was hastily brought for him, and the company having returned to their places at table, the old man suddenly burst out in thundering tones, amid the silence created by curiosity:--

"Where is he,--that rogue, that scamp? Let him show himself; let him dare to speak to me!"

"Who is it that offends you, my dear monsieur?" said Thuillier, in conciliating accents, in which there was a slight tone of patronage.

"A scamp whom I couldn't find in his own home, and they told me he was here, in this house. I'm in the apartment, I think, of Monsieur Thuillier of the Council-general, place de la Madeleine, first story above the entresol?"

"Precisely," said Thuillier; "and allow me to add, monsieur, that you are surrounded with the respect and sympathy of all."

"And you will doubtless permit me to add," said Minard, "that the mayor of the arrondiss.e.m.e.nt adjoining that which you inhabit congratulates himself on being here in presence of Monsieur Picot,--_the_ Monsieur Picot, no doubt, who has just immortalized his name by the discovery of a star!"

"Yes, monsieur," replied the professor, elevating to a still higher pitch the stentorian diapason of his voice, "I am Picot (Nepomucene), but I have not discovered a star; I don't concern myself with any such fiddle-faddle; besides, my eyes are very weak; and that insolent young fellow I have come here to find is making me ridiculous with such talk.

I don't see him here; he is hiding himself, I know; he dares not look me in the face."

"Who is this person who annoys you?" asked several voices at once.

"An unnatural pupil of mine," replied the old mathematician; "a scamp, but full of ideas; his name is Felix Ph.e.l.lion."

The name was received, as may well be imagined, with amazement. Finding the situation amusing, Colleville and la Peyrade went off into fits of laughter.

"You laugh, fools!" cried the irate old man, rising. "Yes, come and laugh within reach of my arm."

So saying, he brandished a thick stick with a white china handle, which he used to guide himself, thereby nearly knocking over a candelabrum on the dinner-table upon Madame Minard's head.

"You are mistaken, monsieur," cried Brigitte, springing forward and seizing his arm. "Monsieur Felix is not here. He will probably come later to a reception we are about to give; but at present he has not arrived."

"They don't begin early, your receptions," said the old man; "it is past eight o'clock. Well, as Monsieur Felix is coming later, you must allow me to wait for him. I believe you were eating your dinners; don't let me disturb you."

And he went back peaceably to his chair.

"As you permit it, monsieur," said Brigitte, "we will continue, or, I should say, finish dinner, for we are now at the dessert. May I offer you anything,--a gla.s.s of champagne and a biscuit?"

"I am very willing, madame," replied the intruder. "No one ever refuses champagne, and I am always ready to eat between my meals; but you dine very late."

A place was made for him at table between Colleville and Mademoiselle Minard, and the former made it his business to fill the gla.s.s of his new neighbor, before whom was placed a dish of small cakes.

"Monsieur," said la Peyrade in a cajoling tone, "you saw how surprised we were to hear you complain of Monsieur Felix Ph.e.l.lion,--so amiable, so inoffensive a young man. What has he done to you, that you should feel so angry with him?"

With his mouth full of cakes, which he was engulfing in quant.i.ties that made Brigitte uneasy, the professor made a sign that he would soon answer; then, having mistaken his gla.s.s and swallowed the contents of Colleville's, he replied:--

"You ask what that insolent young man had done to me? A rascally thing; and not the first, either. He knows that I cannot abide stars, having very good reason to hate them, as you shall hear: In 1807, being attached to the Bureau of Longitudes, I was part of the scientific expedition sent to Spain, under the direction of my friend and colleague, Jean-Baptiste Biot, to determine the arc of the terrestrial meridian from Barcelona to the Balearic isles. I was just in the act of observing a star (perhaps the very one my rascally pupil has discovered), when suddenly, war having broken out between France and Spain, the peasants, seeing me perched with a telescope on Monte Galazzo, took it into their heads that I was making signals to the enemy. A mob of savages broke my instruments, and talked of stringing me up. They were just going to do it, when the captain of a vessel took me prisoner and thrust me into the citadel of Belver, where I spent three years in the harshest captivity. Since them, as you may well believe, I loathe the whole celestial system; though I was, without knowing it, the first to observe the famous comet of 1811; but I should have taken care not to say a word about it if it had not been for Monsieur Flauguergues, who announced it. Like all my pupils, Ph.e.l.lion knows my aversion to stars, and he knew very well the worst trick he could play me would be to saddle one on my back; and that deputation that came to play the farce of congratulating me was mighty lucky not to find me at home, for if they had, I can a.s.sure those gentlemen of the Academy, they would have had a hot reception."

Everybody present thought the old mathematician's monomania quite delightful, except la Peyrade, who now, in perceiving Felix Ph.e.l.lion's part in the affair, regretted deeply having caused the explanation.

"And yet, Monsieur Picot," said Minard, "if Felix Ph.e.l.lion is only guilty of attributing his discovery to you, it seems to me that his indiscreet behavior has resulted in a certain compensation to you: the cross of the Legion of honor, a pension, and the glory attached to your name are not to be despised."

"The cross and the pension I take," said the old man, emptying his gla.s.s, which, to Brigitte's terror, he set down upon the table with a force that threatened to smash it. "The government has owed them to me these twenty years; not for the discovery of stars,--things that I have always despised,--but for my famous 'Treatise on Differential Logarithms' (Kepler thought proper to call them monologarithms), which is a sequel to the tables of Napier; also for my 'Postulatum' of Euclid, of which I was the first to discover the solution; but above all, for my 'Theory of Perpetual Motion,'--four volumes in quarto with plates; Paris, 1825. You see, therefore, monsieur, that to give me glory is bringing water to the Seine. I had so little need of Monsieur Felix Ph.e.l.lion to make me a position in the scientific world that I turned him out of my house long ago."

"Then it isn't the first star," said Colleville, flippantly, "that he dared to put upon you?"

"He did worse than that," roared the old man; "he ruined my reputation, he tarnished my name. My 'Theory of Perpetual Motion,' the printing of which cost me every penny I owned, though it ought to have been printed gratis at the Royal Printing-office, was calculated to make my fortune and render me immortal. Well, that miserable Felix prevented it. From time to time, pretending to bring messages from my editor, he would say, the young sycophant, 'Papa Picot, your book is selling finely; here's five hundred francs--two hundred francs--and once it was two thousand--which your publisher charged me to give you.' This thing went on for years, and my publisher, who had the baseness to enter into the plot, would say to me, when I went to the shop: 'Yes, yes, it doesn't do badly, it _bubbles_, that book; we shall soon be at the end of this edition.' I, who didn't suggest anything, I pocketed my money, and thought to myself: 'My book is liked, little by little its ideas are making their way; I may now expect, from day to day, that some great capitalist will come to me and propose to apply my system--'"

"--of 'Absorption of Liquids'?" asked Colleville, who had been steadily filling the old fellow's gla.s.s.

"No, monsieur, my 'Theory of Perpetual Motion,' 4 vols. in quarto with plates. But no! days, weeks went by and n.o.body came; so, thinking that my publisher did not put all the energy he should into the matter, I tried to sell the second edition to another man. It was that, monsieur, that enabled me to discover the whole plot, on which, as I said before, I turned that serpent out of my house. In six years only nine copies had been sold! Kept quiet in false security I had done nothing for the propagation of my book, which had been left to take care of itself; and thus it was that I, victim of black and wicked jealousy, was shamefully despoiled of the value of my labors."

"But," said Minard, making himself the mouthpiece of the thoughts of the company, "may we not see in that act a manner as ingenious as it was delicate to--"

"To give me alms! is that what you mean?" interrupted the old man, with a roar that made Mademoiselle Minard jump in her chair; "to humiliate me, dishonor me--me, his old professor! Am I in need of charity? Has Picot (Nepomucene), to whom his wife brought a dowry of one hundred thousand francs, ever stretched out his palm to any one? But in these days nothing is respected. Old fellows, as they call us, our religion and our good faith is taken advantage of so that these youths may say to the public: 'Old drivellers, don't you see now they are good for nothing? It needs _us_, the young generation, _us_, the moderns, _us_, Young France, to bring them up on a bottle.' Young greenhorn! let me see _you_ try to feed _me_! Old drivellers know more in their little finger than you in your whole brain, and you'll never be worth us, paltry little intriguer that you are! However, I know my day of vengeance will come; that young Ph.e.l.lion can't help ending badly; what he did to-day, reading a statement to the Academy, under my name, was forgery, forgery!

and the law will send him to the galleys for that."

"True," said Colleville, "forgery of a public star."

Brigitte, who quaked for her gla.s.ses, and whose nerves were exacerbated by the monstrous consumption of cakes and wine, now gave the signal to return to the salon. Besides, she had heard the door-bell ring several times, announcing the arrival of guests for the evening. The question then was how to transplant the professor, and Colleville politely offered him his arm.

"No, monsieur," he said, "you must allow me to stay where I am. I am not dressed for a party, and besides, a strong light hurts my eyes.

Moreover, I don't choose to give myself as a spectacle; it will be best that my interview with Felix Ph.e.l.lion should take place between 'four-eyes,' as they say."

"Well, let him alone, then," said Brigitte to Colleville.

No one insisted,--the old man having, unconsciously, pretty nigh discrowned himself in the opinion of the company. But before leaving, the careful housewife removed everything that was at all fragile from his reach; then, by way of a slight attention, she said:--

"Shall I send you some coffee?"

"I'll take it, madame," responded pere Picot, "and some cognac with it."

"Oh! parbleu! he takes everything," said Brigitte to the male domestic, and she told the latter to keep an eye on the old madman.

When Brigitte returned to the salon she found that the Abbe Gondrin had become the centre of a great circle formed by nearly the whole company, and as she approached, she heard him say:--

"I thank Heaven for bestowing upon me such a pleasure. I have never felt an emotion like that aroused by the scene we have just witnessed; even the rather burlesque form of this confidence, which was certainly very artless, for it was quite involuntary, only adds to the honor of the surprising generosity it revealed. Placed as I am by my ministry in the way of knowing of many charities, and often either the witness or intermediary of good actions, I think I never in my life have met with a more touching or a more ingenious devotion. To keep the left hand ignorant of what the right hand does is a great step in Christianity; but to go so far as to rob one's self of one's own fame to benefit another under such conditions is the gospel applied in its highest precepts; it is being more than a Sister of Charity; it is doing the work of an apostle of beneficence. How I should like to know that n.o.ble young man, and shake him by the hand."

With her arm slipped through that of her G.o.dmother, Celeste was standing very near the priest, her ears intent upon his words, her arm pressing tighter and tighter that of Madame Thuillier, as the abbe a.n.a.lyzed the generous action of Felix Ph.e.l.lion, until at last she whispered under her breath:--

"You hear, G.o.dmother, you hear!"

To destroy the inevitable effect which this hearty praise would surely have on Celeste, Thuillier hastened to say:--