the magic skin(驴皮记)-第57章

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〃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　entreaties；　declined　altogether　to　deliberate
in　his　presence。

Raphael　gave　way　before　their　custom；　thinking　that　he　could　slip　into
a　passage　adjoining；　whence　he　could　easily　overhear　the　medical
conference　in　which　the　three　professors　were　about　to　engage。

〃Permit　me；　gentlemen；〃　said　Brisset；　as　they　entered；　〃to　give　you　my
own　opinion　at　once。　I　neither　wish　to　force　it　upon　you　nor　to　have
it　discussed。　In　the　first　place；　it　is　unbiased；　concise；　and　based
on　an　exact　similarity　that　exists　between　one　of　my　own　patients　and
the　subject　that　we　have　been　called　in　to　examine；　and；　moreover；　I
am　expected　at　my　hospital。　The　importance　of　the　case　that　demands　my
presence　there　will　excuse　me　for　speaking　the　first　word。　The　subject
with　which　we　are　concerned　has　been　exhausted　in　an　equal　degree　by
intellectual　laborswhat　did　he　set　about；