Turning to M. Eliphaste, that gentleman confirmed M. Lecamus’ statement, whereupon Théophraste picked up a small knife which was lying near, and would have severed his right hand but for M. Eliphaste, who, grasping the situation, seized Théophraste’s uplifted hand with dexterity and incredible strength. He ordered him to drop the knife, and told him that he was not keeping to the compact. M. Eliphaste felt that it was no good arguing with him on the matter of the spirit of Cartouche, and despaired of ever ridding him of the spirit by reasoning. He turned to Adolphe and said, “Let us go. It is too late. There is nothing to do but to kill him.” CHAPTER XVIII _The Operation_ |THIS savage onslaught, which but for the presence of mind of M. Eliphaste would have terminated in the amputation of M. Longuet’s hand, proved to them that the sanguine imagination of Cartouche had so completely invaded the brain of M. Longuet that it seemed to them the only remedy for such a misfortune was the death of Cartouche. M. Eliphaste did not hesitate. He had reasoned with him in vain, and had even hoped at one time that he had been victorious, but this incident undoubtedly proved otherwise. He rose and looked at Théophraste, giving him a long, steady glance, which seemed to pierce the uttermost depths of his soul. Théophraste sighed several times and began to tremble violently, when M. Eliphaste cried, “Cartouche, I order you to sleep.” Théophraste fell as if stricken on the armchair which stood behind him, and did not make another move. His respiration was so silent that they doubted if he still lived. Marceline ran to him alarmed, but M. Eliphaste restrained her, saying, “All is well. The operation of the death of Cartouche has begun.” Adolphe knew, from several examples, that there is always a great risk when one wishes to kill a reincarnated soul—that is to say, to throw it back toward the past. There is a risk of killing the body in which it is reincarnated. And so he knew that trying to kill the soul of Cartouche without killing Théophraste was a great undertaking. It needed all the authority, and all the science of M. Eliphaste, to calm them in the extremity in which they found themselves. He was the most intellectual and scientific spiritualist of the day. He had the most absolute and domineering will that the world had seen since Jacques Molay, to whom he had succeeded, by the supreme direction of the secret order of Temphis. He had made an allegorical demonstration of his last treatise on “Psychic Surgery,” and had analyzed the subject in his pamphlet on “Astral Scalpel.”