French fiction -- Translations into English; Historical fiction
The next morning Prosper Magnan was awakened by a great noise. He seemed
to hear piercing cries, and he felt that violent shuddering of the
nerves which we suffer when on awaking we continue to feel a painful
impression begun in sleep. A physiological fact then takes place
within us, a start, to use the common expression, which has never been
sufficiently observed, though it contains very curious phenomena for
science. This terrible agony, produced, possibly, by the too sudden
reunion of our two natures separated during sleep, is usually transient;
but in the poor young surgeon's case it lasted, and even increased,
causing him suddenly the most awful horror as he beheld a pool of
blood between Wahlenfer's bed and his own mattress. The head of the
unfortunate German lay on the ground; his body was still on the bed; all
its blood had flowed out by the neck.
Seeing the eyes still open but fixed, seeing the blood which had stained
his sheets and even his hands, recognizing his own surgical instrument
beside him, Prosper Magnan fainted and fell into the pool of Wahlenfer's
blood. "It was," he said to me, "the punishment of my thoughts." When
he recovered consciousness he was in the public room, seated on a
chair, surrounded by French soldiers, and in presence of a curious and
observing crowd. He gazed stupidly at a Republican officer engaged
in taking the testimony of several witnesses, and in writing down, no
doubt, the "proces-verbal." He recognized the landlord, his wife, the
two boatmen, and the servant of the Red Inn. The surgical instrument
which the murderer had used--
[Here Monsieur Taillefer coughed, drew out his handkerchief to blow
his nose, and wiped his forehead. These perfectly natural motions
were noticed by me only; the other guests sat with their eyes fixed on
Monsieur Hermann, to whom they were listening with a sort of avidity.
The purveyor leaned his elbow on the table, put his head into his right
hand and gazed fixedly at Hermann. From that moment he showed no other
sign of emotion or interest, but his face remained passive and
ghastly, as it was when I first saw him playing with the stopper of the
decanter.]
The surgical instrument which the murderer had used was on the table
with the case containing the rest of the instruments, together with
Prosper's purse and papers. The gaze of the assembled crowd turned
alternately from these convicting articles to the young man, who seemed
to be dying and whose half-extinguished eyes apparently saw nothing. A
confused murmur which was heard without proved the presence of a crowd,
drawn to the neighborhood of the inn by the news of the crime, and also
perhaps by a desire to see the murderer. The step of the sentries
placed beneath the windows of the public room and the rattle of their
accoutrements could be heard above the talk of the populace; but the inn
was closed and the courtyard was empty and silent.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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