Mated from the Morgue: A Tale of the Second EmpireO'Shea, John Augustus
History
Mated from the Morgue: A Tale of the Second Empire
O'Shea, John Augustus
France -- History -- Second Empire, 1852-1870 -- Fiction
There was an immediate springing to the feet of all present, and a
confused hubbub of voices, everyone speaking at once.
'Silence!' shouted the Gascon. 'This is my concern. You'll have to
answer for this, sir. Here is my friend's address.'
'I'm at your service, and the sooner the better. Your friend will not
have to wait long for a visit from a friend of mine.' And O'Hoolohan
handed his adversary his card, and took the proffered address with a
bow. Then, removing his hat with a sarcastic coolness, he saluted the
company and left.
Idiots, you will say, my dear sir or madame, to pick up this quarrel on
such foolish grounds! I admit it. But do not most quarrels rest on the
basis of folly? and are not most disputants idiots? So it has been, and
so will it be to the crack of doom.
The three students were right in one point, however. Marguerite did not
even tenant a grave in the paupers' corner of a cemetery. Her body was
not claimed; in the darkness it had been bundled in a sack, and trotted
to the Ecole Pratique in the Rue de l'Ecole de Médecine, there to
contribute to the enlightenment of the rising generation of surgeons.
From the slab in the Morgue to the slab in the dissecting-room! Gruesome
journey and grim destiny!
CHAPTER XI.
THE BONE OF CONTENTION.
'Poor Marguerite!' ejaculated O'Hara, when he had heard from his visitor
an account of the scene in _La Jeune France_. 'So this was her kismet!
_Sic transit gloria Aspasiæ._ Well, at all events, she may be more
useful in death than ever she was in life. To think of Marguerite
becoming a hand-maid of science! The wilful wench! How she would glory
in the thought of setting two men by the ears, if she could only learn
it in the sphere she now adorns! But do you know, O'Hoolohan, on
reflection, I can't help thinking you are in the wrong. How does it harm
the woman to have her shin-bone ministering to the needs of literature?
Ulric Zuingli bequeathed his skin to be made into a drum-head to rouse
his followers; and Byron, if I'm not mistaken, was fond of taking his
tipple out of a neatly-scooped skull.'
'Will you act for me? Right or wrong now the thing has gone too far for
retreating.'
'I fear that is only too true. Of course I'll act for you. Let me see.
You're sure he called you Mr. Insolent first.'
'Certain.'
'That's one point in our favour. As we are the offended party, we have
the choice of weapons. Have you any preference?'
'Cavalry pistols. French duellists, as a rule, have a rooted dislike to
facing a bullet. As for small swords, that's only child's play. A
scratch, and honour is satisfied.'
'Cavalry pistols be it. I shall let you know the time and place of
rendezvous, at four this afternoon, at your boarding-house.'
'All right,' said O'Hoolohan; 'meantime I shall go and take a look at
the bears in the Jardin des Plantes.'
'There goes a character!' muttered O'Hara to himself, as his visitor
descended the stairs. 'Hang me if I can fathom him!'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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