The Man With The Broken Ear

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A few vigorous kicks brought him to himself. He got up as well as he
could, and looked about him. No one was there but the two gentlemen
opposite, who were mechanically lanching their last kicks into the empty
space, and rubbing their eyes with their arms. He succeeded in awakening
them, and asked them about the visitation he had had; but the gentlemen
declared they had seen nothing.

Meiser sadly returned to his own thoughts; he noticed that the visions
appeared terribly real. This idea prevented his going to sleep again.

"If this goes on much longer," thought he, "the Colonel's ghost will
break my nose with a blow of his fist, or give me a pair of black eyes!"

A little later, it occurred to him that he had breakfasted very hastily
that morning, and he reflected that the nightmare had perhaps been
brought about by such dieting.

He got off at the next five-minute stopping-place and called for soup.
Some very hot vermicelli was brought him, and he blew into his bowl like
a dolphin into the Bosphorus.

A man passed before him, without jostling him, without saying anything
to him, without even seeing him. And nevertheless, the bowl dropped from
the hands of the rich Nicholas Meiser, the vermicelli poured over his
waistcoat and shirt-bosom, where it formed an elegant fretwork
suggestive of the architecture of the _porte Saint Martin_. Some
yellowish threads, detached from the mass, hung in stalactites from the
buttons of his coat. The vermicelli stopped on the outside, but the soup
penetrated much further. It was rather warm for pleasure; an egg left in
it ten minutes would have been boiled hard. Fatal soup, which not only
distributed itself among the pockets, but into the most secret
sinuosities of the man himself! The starting bell rang, the waiter
collected his two sous, and Meiser got into the cars, preceded by a
plaster of vermicelli, and followed by a little thread of soup which was
running down the calves of his legs.

And all of this, because he had seen, or thought he had seen, the
terrible figure of Colonel Fougas eating sandwiches.

Oh! how long the trip seemed! What a terrible time it appeared to be
before he could be at home, between his wife Catharine and his servant
Berbel, with all the doors safely closed! His two companions laughed
till the buttons flew; people laughed in the compartment to the right of
him, and in the compartment to the left of him. As fast as he picked off
the vermicelli, little spots of soup saucily congealed and seemed
quietly laughing. How hard it comes to a great millionnaire to amuse
people who do not possess a cent! He did not get off again until they
reached Dantzic; he did not even put his nose to the window; he sucked
solitary consolation from his porcelain pipe, on which Leda caressed her
swan and smiled not.

Wearisome, wearisome journey! But he did reach home nevertheless. It was
eight o'clock in the evening; the old domestic was waiting with ropes to
sling his master's trunk on his back. No more alarming figures, no more
mocking laughs! The history of the soup was fallen into the great
forgotten, like one of M. Heller's speeches. In the baggage room, Meiser
had already seized the handle of a black leather trunk, when, at the
other end, he saw the spectre of Fougas, which was pulling in the
opposite direction, and seemed inclined to dispute possession. He
bristled up, pulled stronger, and even plunged his left hand into the
pocket where the revolver was lying. But the luminous glance of the
Colonel fascinated him, his legs trembled, he fell, and fancied that he
saw Fougas and the black trunk rolling over each other. When he came to,
his old servant was chafing his hands, the trunk already had the slings
around it, and the Colonel had disappeared. The domestic swore that he
had not seen anybody, and that he had himself received the trunk from
the baggage agent's own hand.

Twenty minutes later, the millionnaire was in his own house, joyfully
rubbing his face against the sharp angles of his wife. He did not dare
to tell her about his visions, for Frau Meiser was a skeptic, in her own
way. It was she who spoke to him about Fougas.

"A whole history has happened to me," said she. "Would you believe that
the police have written to us from Berlin, to find out whether our uncle
left us a mummy, and when, and how long we kept him, and what we have
done with him? I answered, telling the truth, and adding that Colonel
Fougas was in such a bad condition, and so damaged by mites, that we
sold him for rags. What object can the police have in troubling
themselves about our affairs?"

Meiser heaved a heavy sigh.

"Let's talk about money!" said the lady. "The president of the bank has
been to see me. The million you asked him for, for to-morrow, is ready;
it will be delivered upon your signature. It seems that they've had a
deal of trouble to get the amount in specie. If you had but wanted
drafts on Vienna or Paris, you would have put them at their ease. But
at last they've done what you wanted. There's no other news, except that
Schmidt, the merchant, has killed himself. He had to pay a note for ten
thousand thalers, and didn't have half the amount on hand. He came to
ask me for the money; I offered him ten thousand thalers, at twenty-five
per cent., payable in ninety days, with a first mortgage on all his real
estate. The fool preferred to hang himself in his shop. Everyone to his
taste!"

"Did he hang himself very high?"

"I don't know anything about that. Why?"

"Because one might get a piece of rope cheap, and we're greatly in want
of some, my poor Catharine! That Colonel Fougas has given me a shiver."

"Some more of your notions! Come to supper, my love."

"Come on!"

The angular Baucis conducted her Philemon into a large and beautiful
dining-room, where Berbel served a repast worthy of the gods. Soup with
little balls of aniseeded bread, fish-balls with black sauce,
mutton-balls stuffed, game balls, sour-krout cooked in lard and
garnished with fried potatoes, roast hare with currant jelly, deviled
crabs, salmon from the Vistula, jellies, and fruit tarts. Six bottles of
Rhine-wine selected from the best vintages were awaiting, in their
silver caps, the master's kiss. But the lord of all these good things
was neither hungry nor thirsty. He ate by nibbles and drank by sips, all
the time expecting a grand consummation, which he did not have to
expect along. A formidable rap of the knocker soon resounded through the
house.

Nicholas Meiser trembled. His wife tried to reassure him. "It's
nothing," said she. "The president of the bank told me that he was
coming to see you. He offers to pay us the exchange, if we'll take paper
instead of specie."

"It _is_ about money, sure as Fate!" cried the good man. "Hell itself is
coming to see us!"

At the same instant, the servant rushed into the room, crying, "Oh, Sir!
Oh, Madame! It's the Frenchman of the three coffins! Jesus! Mary, Mother
of God!"

Fougas saluted them, and said, "Don't disturb yourselves, good people, I
beg of you. We've a little matter to discuss together, and I'm ready to
explain it to you in two words. You're in a hurry, so am I; you've not
had supper, neither have I!"

Frau Meiser, more rigid and more emaciated than a thirteenth-century
statue, opened wide her toothless mouth. Terror paralyzed her. The man,
better prepared for the visit of the phantom, cocked his revolver under
the table and took aim at the Colonel, crying "_Vade retro, Satanas!_"
The exorcism and the pistol missed fire together.

Meiser was not at all discouraged: he snapped the six barrels one after
the other at the demon, who stood watching him do it. Not one went off.

"What devilish game is that you're playing?" said the Colonel, seating
himself astride a chair. "People are not in the habit of receiving an
honest man's visit with that ceremony!"

Meiser flung down his revolver, and grovelled like a beast at Fougas'
feet. His wife, who was not one whit more tranquil, followed him. They
joined hands, and the fat man exclaimed:

"Spirit! I confess my misdeeds, and I am ready to make reparation for
them. I have sinned against you; I have violated my uncle's commands.
What do you wish? What do you command? A tomb? A magnificent monument?
Prayers? Endless prayers?"

"Idiot!" said Fougas, spurning him with his foot; "I am no spirit, and I
want nothing but the money you've robbed me of!"

Meiser kept rolling on the floor; but his scrawny wife was already on
her feet, her fists on her hips, and facing Fougas.

"Money!" cried she, "But we don't owe you any! Have you any documents?
Just show us our signature! Where would one be, Just God! if we had to
give money to all the adventurers who present themselves? And in the
first place, by what right did you thrust yourself into our dwelling, if
you're not a spirit? Ah! you're a man just the same as other people! Ha!
ha! So you're not a ghost! Very well, sir; there are judges in Berlin;
there are some in the country, too, and we'll soon see whether you're
going to finger our money! Get up there, you great booby; it's only a
man! And do you, Mister Ghost, get out of here! Off with you!"

The Colonel did not budge more than a rock.

"The devil's in women's tongues! Sit down, old lady, and take your hands
away from my eyes--they bother me. And as for you, swell-head, get on to
your chair, and listen to me. There will be time enough to go to law if
we can't come to an understanding. But stamped paper stinks in my
nostrils; and therefore I'd rather settle peaceably."

Herr and Frau Meiser repressed their first emotion. They distrusted
magistrates, as do all people without clean consciences. If the Colonel
was a poor devil who could be put off with a few thalers, it would be
better to avoid legal proceedings.

Fougas stated the case to them with entire military bluntness. He proved
the existence of his right, said that he had had his identity
substantiated at Fontainebleau, Paris, and Berlin; cited from memory two
or three passages of the will, and finished by declaring that the
Prussian Government, in conjunction with that of France, would support
his just claims if necessary.

"You understand clearly," said he, taking Meiser by the button of his
coat, "that I am no fox, depending on cunning. If you had a wrist
vigorous enough to swing a good sabre, we'd take the field against each
other, and I'd play you for the amount, first two cuts out of three, as
surely as that's soup before you!"

"Fortunately, monsieur," said Meiser, "my age shields me from all
brutality. You would not wish to trample under foot the corpse of an old
man!"

"Venerable scoundrel! But you would have killed me like a dog, if your
pistol had not missed fire!"

"It was not loaded, Monsieur Colonel! It was not----anywhere near
loaded! But I am an accommodating man, and we can come to terms very
easily. I don't owe you anything, and, moreover, there's prescription;
but after all----how much do you want?"

"He has had his say: now it's my turn!"

The old rascal's mate softened the tone of her voice. Imagine to
yourself a saw licking a tree before biting in.

"Listen, Claus, my dear--listen to what Monsieur Colonel Fougas has to
say. You'll see that he is reasonable! It's not in him to think of
ruining poor people like us. Oh, Heavens! he is not capable of it. He
has such a noble heart! Such a disinterested man! An officer worthy of
the great Napoleon (God receive his soul!)."

"That's enough, old lady!" said Fougas, with a curt gesture which cut
the speech off in the middle. "I had an estimate made at Berlin of what
is due me--principal and interest."

"Interest!" cried Meiser. "But in what country, in what latitude, do
people pay interest on money? Perhaps it may sometimes happen in
business, but between friends--never, no never, my good Monsieur
Colonel! What would my good uncle, who is now gazing upon us from
heaven, say, if he knew that you were claiming interest on his bequest?"

"Now shut up, Nickle!" interrupted his wife. "Monsieur Colonel is just
about telling you, himself, that he did not intend to be understood as
speaking of the interest."

"Why in the name of great guns don't you both shut up, you confounded
magpies? Here I am dying of hunger, and I didn't bring my nightcap to go
to bed here, either!---- Now here's the upshot of the matter: You owe me
a great deal; but it's not an even sum--there are fractions in it, and I
go in for clean transactions. Moreover, my tastes are modest. I've
enough for my wife and myself; nothing more is needed than to provide
for my son!"

"Very well," cried Meiser; "I'll charge myself with the education of the
little fellow!"

"Now, during the dozen days since I again became a citizen of the world,
there is one word that I've heard spoken everywhere. At Paris, as well
as at Berlin, people no longer speak of anything but millions; there is
no longer any talk of anything else, and everybody's mouth is full of
millions. From hearing so much said about it, I've acquired a curiosity
to know what it is. Go, fetch me out a million, and I'll give you
quittance!"

If you want to reach an approximate idea of the piercing cries which
answered him, go to the _Jardin des Plantes_ at the breakfast hour of
the birds of prey, and try to pull the meat out of their beaks. Fougas
stopped his ears and remained inexorable. Prayers, arguments,
misrepresentations, flatteries, cringings, glanced off from him like
rain from a zinc roof. But at ten o'clock at night, when he had
concluded that all concurrence was impossible, he took his hat:

"Good evening!" said he. "It's no longer a million that I must have, but
two millions, and all over. We'll go to law. I'm going to supper."

He was on the staircase, when Frau Meiser said to her husband:

"Call him back, and give him his million!"

"Are you a fool?"

"Don't be afraid."

"I can never do it!"

"Father in heaven! what blockheads men are! Monsieur! Monsieur Fougas!
Monsieur Colonel Fougas! Come up again, I pray you! We consent to all
that you require!"

"Damnation!" said he, on reentering; "you ought to have made up your
minds sooner. But after all, let's see the money!"

Frau Meiser explained to him with her tenderest voice, that poor
capitalists like themselves, were not in the habit of keeping millions
under their own lock and key.

"But you shall lose nothing by waiting, my sweet sir! To-morrow you
shall handle the amount in nice white silver; my husband will sign you a
check on the Royal Bank of Dantzic."

"But----," said the unfortunate Meiser. He signed, nevertheless, for he
had boundless confidence in the practical ingenuity of Catharine. The
old lady begged Fougas to sit down at the end of the table, and dictated
to him a receipt for two millions, in payment of all demands. You may
depend that she did not forgot a word of the legal formulas, and that
she arranged the affair in due form according to the Prussian code. The
receipt, written throughout in the Colonel's hand, filled three large
pages.

He signed the instrument with a flourish, and received in exchange the
signature of Nicholas, which he knew well.

"Well," said he to the old gentleman, "you're certainly not such an Arab
as they said you were at Berlin. Shake hands, old scamp! I don't usually
shake hands with any but honest people; but on an occasion like this,
one can do a little something extra."

"Do it double, Monsieur Fougas," said Frau Meiser, humbly. "Will you not
join us in this modest supper?"

"Gad! old lady, it's not a thing to be refused. My supper must be cold
at the inn of the 'Clock'; and your viands, smoking on their chafing
dishes, have already caused me more than one fit of distraction.
Besides, here are some yellow glass flutes, on which Fougas will not be
at all reluctant to play an air."

The respectable Catharine had an extra plate laid, and ordered Berbel to
go to bed. The Colonel folded up Father Meiser's million, rolled it
carefully among a pile of bank-bills, and put the whole into the little
pocket-book which his dear Clementine had sent him.

The clock struck eleven.

At half-past eleven Fougas began to see everything in a rosy cloud. He
praised the Rhine wine highly, and thanked the Meisers for their
hospitality. At midnight, he assured them of his highest esteem. At
quarter past twelve, he embraced them. At half-past twelve, he delivered
a eulogy on the illustrious John Meiser, his friend and benefactor. When
he learned that John Meiser had died in that house, he poured forth a
torrent of tears. At quarter to one, he assumed a confidential tone, and
spoke of his son, whom he was going to make happy, and of the betrothed
who was waiting for him. About one o'clock, he tasted a celebrated port
wine which Frau Meiser had herself gone to bring from the cellar. About
half-past one, his tongue thickened and his eyes grew dim; he struggled
some time against drunkenness and sleepiness, announced that he was
going to describe the Russian campaign, muttered the name of the
Emperor, and slid under the table.

"You may believe me, if you will," said Frau Meiser to her husband,
"this is not a man who has come into our house; it's the devil!"

"The devil!"

"If not, would I have advised you to give him a million? I heard a voice
saying to me, 'If you do not obey the messenger of the Infernal powers,
you will both die this very night.' It was on account of that, that I
called him up stairs. Ah! if we had been doing business with a man, I
would have told you to contest it in law to our last cent."

"As you please! So you're still making sport of my visions?"

"Forgive me, Claus dear; I was a fool!"

"And I've concluded I was, too."

"Poor innocent! Perhaps you too thought this was Colonel Fougas?"

"Certainly!"

"As if it were possible to resuscitate a man! It is a demon, I tell you,
who assumed the shape of the Colonel, to rob us of our money!"

"What can demons do with money?"

"Build cathedrals, to be sure!"

"But how is the devil to be recognized when he is disguised?"

"First by his cloven-foot--but this one has boots on; next by his
clipped ear."

"Bah! And why?"

"Because the devil's ears are pointed, and, in order to make them round,
he has to cut them."

Meiser stuck his head under the table and uttered a cry of horror.

"It's certainly the devil!" said he. "But how did he happen to let
himself go to sleep?"

"Perhaps you did not know that when I came back from the cellar, I
dropped into my chamber? I put a drop of holy water into the Port; charm
against charm, and he is fallen."

"That's splendid! But what shall we do with him, now that we have him in
our power?"

"What is done with demons in Scripture? The Saviour throws them into the
sea."

"The sea is a long way from here."

"But, you big baby, the public wells are just by!"

"And what will be said to-morrow, when the body is found?"

"Nothing at all will be found; and even the check that we signed, will
be turned into tinder."

Ten minutes later, Herr and Frau Meiser were lugging something toward
the public wells, and soon dame Catharine murmured, _sotto voce_, the
following incantation:

"Demon, child of hell, be thou accursed!

"Demon, child of hell, be thou dashed headlong down!

"Demon, child of hell, return to hell!"

A dull sound--the sound of a body falling into water, terminated the
ceremony, and the two spouses returned to their domicil, with the
satisfaction that always follows the performance of a duty.

Nicholas said to himself:

"I didn't think she was so credulous!"

"I didn't think he was so simple!" thought the worthy Kettle, wedded
wife of Claus.

They slept the sleep of innocence. Oh, how much less soft their pillows
would have seemed, if Fougas had gone home with his million!

At ten o'clock the next morning, while they were taking their coffee and
buttered rolls, the president of the bank called in, and said to them:

"I am greatly obliged to you for having accepted a draft on Paris
instead of a million in specie, and without premium, too. That young
Frenchman you sent to us is a little brusque, but very lively, and a
good fellow."

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE COLONEL TRIES TO RELIEVE HIMSELF OF A MILLION WHICH INCUMBERS HIM.

Fougas had left Paris for Berlin the day after his audience. He took
three days to make the trip, because he stopped some time at Nancy. The
Marshal had given him a letter of introduction to the Prefect of
Meurthe, who received him very politely, and promised to aid him in his
investigations. Unfortunately, the house where he had loved Clementine
Pichon was no longer standing. The authorities had demolished it in
1827, in cutting a street through. It is certain that the commissioners
had not demolished the family with the house, but a new difficulty all
at once presented itself: the name of Pichon abounded in the city, the
suburbs, and the department. Among this multitude of Pichons, Fougas did
not know which one to hug. Tired of hunting, and eager to hasten forward
on, the road to fortune, he left this note for the commissioner of
police:

"Search, on the registers of personal statistics and elsewhere, for a
young girl named Clementine Pichon. She was eighteen years old in 1813;
her parents kept an officers' boarding-house. If she is alive, get her
address; if she is dead, look up her heirs. A father's happiness depends
upon it!"

On reaching Berlin, the Colonel found that his reputation had preceded
him. The note from the Minister of War had been sent to the Prussian
Government through the French legation; Leon Renault, despite his grief,
had found time to write a word to Doctor Hirtz; the papers had begun to
talk, and the scientific societies to bestir themselves. The Prince
Regent, even, had not disdained to ask information on the subject from
his physician. Germany is a queer country, where science interests the
very princes.

Fougas, who had read Doctor Hirtz's letter annexed to Herr Meiser's
will, thought that he owed some acknowledgments to that excellent
gentleman. He made a call upon him, and embraced him, addressing him as
the oracle of Epidaurus. The doctor at once took possession of him, had
his baggage brought from the hotel and gave him the best chamber in his
house. Up to the 29th day of the month, the Colonel was cared for as a
friend, and exhibited as a phenomenon. Seven photographers disputed the
possession of so precious a sitter. The cities of Greece did no more for
our poor old Homer. His Royal Highness, the Prince Regent, wished to see
him _in propria persona_, and begged Herr Hirtz to bring him to the
palace. Fougas scratched his ear a little, and intimated that a soldier
ought not to associate with the enemy, seeming to think himself still in
1813.

The Prince is a distinguished soldier, having commanded in person at the
famous siege of Rastadt. He took pleasure in Fougas' conversation; the
heroic simplicity of the young old-time soldier charmed him. He paid him
huge compliments and said that the Emperor of France was very fortunate
in having around him officers of so much merit.

"He has not a great many," replied the Colonel. "If there were but four
or five hundred of my stamp, your Europe would have been bagged long
ago!"

This answer seemed more amusing than threatening, and no addition was
immediately made to the available portion of the Prussian army.

His Royal Highness directly informed Fougas that his indemnity had been
fixed at two hundred and fifty thousand francs, and that he could
receive the amount at the treasury whenever he should find it agreeable.

"My Lord," replied he, "it is always agreeable to pocket the money of an
enemy--a foreigner. But wait! I am not a censor-bearer to Plutus:
give me back the Rhine and Posen, and I'll leave you your two hundred
and fifty thousand francs."

"Are you dreaming?" said the Prince, laughing. "The Rhine and Posen!"

"The Rhine belongs to France, and the Posen to Poland, much more
legitimately than this money to me. But so it is with great lords: they
make it a duty to pay little debts, and a point of honor to ignore big
ones!"

The Prince winced a little, and all the faces of the court gave a
sympathetic twitch. It was discovered that M. Fougas had evinced bad
taste in letting a crumb of truth fall into a big plateful of follies.

But a pretty little Viennese baroness, who was at the presentation, was
much more charmed with his appearance than scandalized at his remarks.
The ladies of Vienna have made for themselves a reputation for
hospitality which they always attempt to support, even when they are
away from their native land.

The baroness of Marcomarcus had still another reason for getting hold of
the Colonel: for two or three years she had, as a matter of course, been
making a photographic collection of celebrated men. Her album was
peopled with generals, statesmen, philosophers, and pianists, who had
given their portraits to her, after writing on the back: "With respects
of----" There were to be found there several Roman prelates, and even a
celebrated cardinal; but a more direct envoy from the other world was
still wanting. She wrote Fougas, then, a note full of impatience and
curiosity, inviting him to supper. Fougas, who was going to start for
Dantzic next day, took a sheet of paper embossed with a great eagle, and
set to work to excuse himself politely. He feared--the delicate and
chivalrous soul!--that an evening of conversation and enjoyment in the
society of the loveliest women of Germany might be a sort of moral
infidelity to the recollection of Clementine. He accordingly hunted up
an eligible formula of address, and wrote:

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