the magic skin-第59章

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horrible　fit　of　coughing　came　on；　one　of　those　deep　ominous　coughs

that　seem　to　come　from　the　depths　of　the　tomb；　a　cough　that　leaves　the

sufferer　ghastly　pale；　trembling；　and　perspiring；　with　aching　sides

and　quivering　nerves；　with　a　feeling　of　weariness　pervading　the　very

marrow　of　the　spine；　and　unspeakable　languor　in　every　vein。　Raphael

slowly　laid　himself　down；　pale；　exhausted；　and　overcome；　like　a　man

who　has　spent　all　the　strength　in　him　over　one　final　effort。　Pauline's

eyes；　grown　large　with　terror；　were　fixed　upon　him；　she　lay　quite

motionless；　pale；　and　silent。



〃Let　us　commit　no　more　follies；　my　angel；〃　she　said；　trying　not　to　let

Raphael　see　the　dreadful　forebodings　that　disturbed　her。　She　covered

her　face　with　her　hands；　for　she　saw　Death　before　herthe　hideous

skeleton。　Raphael's　face　had　grown　as　pale　and　livid　as　any　skull

unearthed　from　a　churchyard　to　assist　the　studies　of　some　scientific

man。　Pauline　remembered　the　exclamation　that　had　escaped　from　Valentin

the　previous　evening；　and　to　herself　she　said：



〃Yes；　there　are　gulfs　that　love　can　never　cross；　and　therein　love　must

bury　itself。〃



On　a　March　morning；　some　days　after　this　wretched　scene；　Raphael　found

himself　seated　in　an　armchair；　placed　in　the　window　in　the　full　light

of　day。　Four　doctors　stood　round　him；　each　in　turn　trying　his　pulse；

feeling　him　over；　and　questioning　him　with　apparent　interest。　The

invalid　sought　to　guess　their　thoughts；　putting　a　construction　on

every　movement　they　made；　and　on　the　slightest　contractions　of　their

brows。　His　last　hope　lay　in　this　consultation。　This　court　of　appeal

was　about　to　pronounce　its　decisionlife　or　death。



Valentin　had　summoned　the　oracles　of　modern　medicine；　so　that　he　might

have　the　last　word　of　science。　Thanks　to　his　wealth　and　title；　there

stood　before　him　three　embodied　theories；　human　knowledge　fluctuated

round　the　three　points。　Three　of　the　doctors　brought　among　them　the

complete　circle　of　medical　philosophy；　they　represented　the　points　of

conflict　round　which　the　battle　raged；　between　Spiritualism；　Analysis；

and　goodness　knows　what　in　the　way　of　mocking　eclecticism。



The　fourth　doctor　was　Horace　Bianchon；　a　man　of　science　with　a　future

before　him；　the　most　distinguished　man　of　the　new　school　in　medicine；

a　discreet　and　unassuming　representative　of　a　studious　generation　that

is　preparing　to　receive　the　inheritance　of　fifty　years　of　experience

treasured　up　by　the　Ecole　de　Paris；　a　generation　that　perhaps　will

erect　the　monument　for　the　building　of　which　the　centuries　behind　us

have　collected　the　different　materials。　As　a　personal　friend　of　the

Marquis　and　of　Rastignac；　he　had　been　in　attendance　on　the　former　for

some　days　past；　and　was　helping　him　to　answer　the　inquiries　of　the

three　professors；　occasionally　insisting　somewhat　upon　those　symptoms

which；　in　his　opinion；　pointed　to　pulmonary　disease。



〃You　have　been　living　at　a　great　pace；　leading　a　dissipated　life；　no

doubt；　and　you　have　devoted　yourself　largely　to　intellectual　work？〃

queried　one　of　the　three　celebrated　authorities；　addressing　Raphael。

He　was　a　square…headed　man；　with　a　large　frame　and　energetic

organization；　which　seemed　to　mark　him　out　as　superior　to　his　two

rivals。



〃I　made　up　my　mind　to　kill　myself　with　debauchery；　after　spending

three　years　over　an　extensive　work；　with　which　perhaps　you　may　some

day　occupy　yourselves；〃　Raphael　replied。



The　great　doctor　shook　his　head；　and　so　displayed　his　satisfaction。　〃I

was　sure　of　it；〃　he　seemed　to　say　to　himself。　He　was　the　illustrious

Brisset；　the　successor　of　Cabanis　and　Bichat；　head　of　the　Organic

School；　a　doctor　popular　with　believers　in　material　and　positive

science；　who　see　in　man　a　complete　individual；　subject　solely　to　the

laws　of　his　own　particular　organization；　and　who　consider　that　his

normal　condition　and　abnormal　states　of　disease　can　both　be　traced　to

obvious　causes。



After　this　reply；　Brisset　looked；　without　speaking；　at　a　middle…sized

person；　whose　darkly　flushed　countenance　and　glowing　eyes　seemed　to

belong　to　some　antique　satyr；　and　who；　leaning　his　back　against　the

corner　of　the　embrasure；　was　studying　Raphael；　without　saying　a　word。

Doctor　Cameristus；　a　man　of　creeds　and　enthusiasms；　the　head　of　the

〃Vitalists；〃　a　romantic　champion　of　the　esoteric　doctrines　of　Van

Helmont；　discerned　a　lofty　informing　principle　in　human　life；　a

mysterious　and　inexplicable　phenomenon　which　mocks　at　the　scalpel；

deceives　the　surgeon；　eludes　the　drugs　of　the　pharmacopoeia；　the

formulae　of　algebra；　the　demonstrations　of　anatomy；　and　derides　all

our　efforts；　a　sort　of　invisible；　intangible　flame；　which；　obeying

some　divinely　appointed　law；　will　often　linger　on　in　a　body　in　our

opinion　devoted　to　death；　while　it　takes　flight　from　an　organization

well　fitted　for　prolonged　existence。



A　bitter　smile　hovered　upon　the　lips　of　the　third　doctor；　Maugredie；　a

man　of　acknowledged　ability；　but　a　Pyrrhonist　and　a　scoffer；　with　the

scalpel　for　his　one　article　of　faith。　He　would　consider；　as　a

concession　to　Brisset；　that　a　man　who；　as　a　matter　of　fact；　was

perfectly　well　was　dead；　and　recognize　with　Cameristus　that　a　man

might　be　living　on　after　his　apparent　demise。　He　found　something

sensible　in　every　theory；　and　embraced　none　of　them；　claiming　that　the

best　of　all　systems　of　medicine　was　to　have　none　at　all；　and　to　stick

to　facts。　This　Panurge　of　the　Clinical　Schools；　the　king　of　observers；

the　great　investigator；　a　great　sceptic；　the　man　of　desperate

expedients；　was　scrutinizing　the　Magic　Skin。



〃I　should　very　much　like　to　be　a　witness　of　the　coincidence　of　its

retrenchment　with　your　wish；〃　he　said　to　the　Marquis。



〃Where　is　the　use？〃　cried　Brisset。



〃Where　is　the　use？〃　echoed　Cameristus。



〃Ah；　you　are　both　of　the　same　mind；〃　replied　Maugredie。



〃The　contraction　is　perfectly　simple；〃　Brisset　went　on。



〃It　is　supernatural；〃　remarked　Cameristus。



〃In　short；〃　Maugredie　made　answer；　with　affected　solemnity；　and

handing　the　piece　of　skin　to　Raphael　as　he　spoke；　〃the　shriveling

faculty　of　the　skin　is　a　fact　inexplicable；　and　yet　quite　natural；

which；　ever　since　the　world　began；　has　been　the　despair　of　medicine

and　of　pretty　women。〃



All　Valentin's　observation　could　discover　no　trace　of　a　feeling　for

his　troubles　in　any　of　the　three　doctors。　The　three　received　every

answer　in　silence；　scanned　him　unconcernedly；　and　interrogated　him

unsympathetically。　Politeness　did　not　conceal　their　indifference；

whether　deliberation　or　certainty　was　the　cause；　their　words　at　any

rate　came　so　seldom　and　so　languidly；　that　at　times　Raphael　thought

that　their　attention　was　wandering。　From　time　to　time　Brisset；　the

sole　speaker；　remarked；　〃Good！　just　so！〃　as　Bianchon　pointed　out　the

existence　of　each　desperate　symptom。　Cameristus　seemed　to　be　deep　in

meditation；　Maugredie　looked　like　a　comic　author；　studying　two　queer

characters　with　a　view　to　reproducing　them　faithfully　upon　the　stage。

There　was　deep；　unconcealed　distress；　and　grave　compassion　in　Horace

Bianchon's　face。　He　had　been　a　doctor　for　too　short　a　time　to　be

untouched　by　suffering　and　unmoved　by　a　deathbed；　he　had　not　learned

to　keep　back　the　sympathetic　tears　that　obscure　a　man's　clear　vision

and　prevent　him　from　seizing　like　the　general　of　an　army；　upon　the

auspicious　moment　for　victory；　in　utter　disregard　of　the　groans　of

dying　men。



After　spending　about　half　an　hour　over　taking　in　some　sort　the　measure

of　the　patient　and　the　complaint；　much　as　a　tailor　measures　a　young

man　for　a　coat　when　he　orders　his　wedding　outfit；　the　authorities

uttered　several　commonplaces；　and　even　talked　of　politics。　Then　they

decided　to　go　into　Raphael's　study　to　exchange　their　ideas　and　frame

their　verdict。



〃May　I　not　be　present　during　the　discussion；　gentlemen？〃　Valentin　had

asked　them；　but　Brisset　and　Maugredie　protested　against　this；　and；　in

spite　of　their　patient's　en