CAPTAIN SATAN.

Otago Daily Times, Issue 11809, 11 August 1900, Page 5

CAPTAIN SATAN.

THE ADVENTURES OF CYHAJNO

DE BERGERAC.

(Translated from the French of Louis Gallet.)

CHAPTER IX.—SCIENTIST AND

BORE,

On the evening of the same day there -was a large and. brilliant assembly at the Marquis de Faventines's house. Gilberte, who had withdrawn from the glare, received Roland's attentions with a distracted air; the Marchioness, surrounded by several old gentlemen, and two or three ladies, the flower of1" whose beauty must have bloomed sometime about the la.te king Louis the Thirteenth's younger days, was chatting quietly; while M. de_ Paventines, seated in front of a table between two grave-faced men, listened patiently to the observations of a person dressed in black, standing opposite him. This person, who deserves special mention, was Messire Jean de Lamothe; Gr.and Provost of Paris. With his long, withered, sallow face, his little eyes, glowing like coals beneath eyelids destitute of lashes, thin, mocking lips, and a brow seamed with stubborn furrows. Jean de Lamothe had nothing that could prepossess in his favour. He was not, however, a bad sort of mam; devoted as he was to the exact sciences, lie brought to bear, on every question relating to his stvidies, an acrimony, and occasionally a lack of justice, from which, happily, he could free himself in the administration of the duties of' his office. His gestures were portentous v and diffuse, his speech dogmatic, and if, as we shall see, he did not always support right causes, at any rate he defended them with valiant conviction. A large sheet of vellum was laid on the, table between him and his three listeners. On this sheet he had drawn some astronomical figures, and, with finger pointing to his work, and eye kindled, he.kept on with his demonstration, without noticing the weariness of his hearers. For the moment he had taken as his motive of argument Cyrano de Bergerac, the author of theories which seemed to him the mostsubversive imaginable, and this subject, it would seem, worked upon his mind in a singular degree, for, without noticing it, his voice had passed beyond the middle register, and was approaching ai shrill tone. " Yes, sirs," he cried, after having crushed his imaginary opponent under a supreme argument, for Cyrano, was not there, "yes, the man who denies that deserves to be burnt alive in the Place de

Greve." "Oil!" said the Marquis, good humoured ly, " would you treat our friend Cyrano like that? Whatever has he done?" " What has he done? Why, Marquis, he is a dammed spirit, an agent of the ad-

versary." " I should have taken him at the 'most for a madman." "A dangerous madman," affirmed .the Gramd Provost. Then, with undisguised indignation, he exclaimed, .' " ■

"Hasn't he taken into his head to say in his writings that the moon is inhabited?"

What heresy!" said the Marquis, pre tending not to smile. "And that the earth turns round.-' " What blasphemy!" >

"That means," thundered the enraged

scientist, " that social order is overthrown, that the Tvorld is coming to an end. Bergerac is not man, he is Antichrist."

" Are yok not going a little too far? Bergerac is a friend of the family, Monsieur de Lamothe."

"Do you receive him?"

"Yes, indeed, and you would know, him better too, were you less sparing of your visits."

" Science is a tyrannical mistress," the provost offere das an excuse. " I assure you, my dear friend," continued the Marquis, /'that Bergerac improves on acquaintance, and that he doesn't at all smell of infernal fires, even though' he does maintain, that the moon is inhabited, and that the earth turns round."

" But that is exactly what provokes me! It does Dot turn round, and I will prove it to you once again."

The Marquis bowed his head. He had been expecting this fresh infliction; with a glance at his two companions, he counselled patience, but they, however, were placidly sleeping in their large arm-chairs, and once more Jean de Lamothe's long arms were spread out over the celestial chart unfolded in front of him. " Follow me carefully," he said. " That little circle, that is the moon, that other, the earth, and I ... I represent the sun." "That is modest of you," murmured M. ds Faventines. These premises granted, the scientist resumed his discourse. As he was rambling amid the developments of his argument, the door was gently opened, and Cyrano de Bergerac appeared. A stealthy sign from the Marquis indicated the speaker to him, and the young man, after bowing to Gilberte and her mother, took Roland's arm and drew near to the table which, for the moment, the Provost had set up as a tribune

Jean de Lamothe did not guess at the enemy that stood motionless behind him.

" Therefore, dear Marquis," he ended, ' Cyrano de. Bergerac is an impostor, and the earth does not turn round, because it is flat, as the illustrious Jean Grangier has proved." i

" It does turn round," Cyrano interposed irreverently, " and there is not upon its vast surface any more hopeless platitude than the argument you quote."

The provost jumped aside, as though he had heard the trump of doom sounding in his ears.

"Ah! it is you, monsieur," he said, when his surprise was calmed down; "it is you who has given me the lie."

" Myself,"' answered the poet, laughing, " and quite ready I am to give you a complete answer, if you like, and if these ladies will allow."

Jean de Lamothe knitted his brow. At heart he was delighted. He' had his opponent in his grip, and was about to give himself the pleasure of confounding, overwhelming, and annihilating him. A circle was made around the.two disputants.

The contest jDromised to be interesting. ' So, sir," began the Provost, who had set himself boldly in front of Cyrano, and seemed to be trying to equal him in height, " you still maintain this Utopian idea. But, you are surely making fun of us, sjr, and of the readers. of your books. What probability have you for imagining that thu sun is motionless, when we see it moving? And what likelihood is there that the earth turns with such rapidity, when we feel it stationary under our feet?"

Cyrano took no heed of the scornfully compassionate shrug of the shoulders with which the scientist; accompanied this address, and it was in a laughing tone that he answered, . '

"Ah, mon, Dieu, Sir Provost, it is a very simple mtftter, and I want to explain it to you by an instance within the cajiacity of any intelligence." Jean de Lamothe made a movement as though he were going to speak. " Don't b& annoyed," Savinien hastened to add. "It is common-sense to believe that the sun holds a place in the centre of our sphere, since all natural bodies require a central source of heat!"

" Absurd proposal," groweld the Provost. "Then," answered the poet, "the sun is at the vital centre'of the universe, to nourish and give it life, in the same way that the pippin is in the centre of the ai pie, the kernel in the middle of the fruit, the germ protected within the many coat- *. gs of the 'bulb. The universe is that Staple, t-Lit fruit, tha.t bulb, and the sun, that germ, around which everything gravitates."

A little sneer was the Provost's only re/ply.

"Do you think, then," insisted Cyrano, " that this gj-eat heat centre turns round our earth in order to warm it and give it light?" " Unquestionably."

" Oh, well, sir, if you think that, it's pretty much as though you were to imagine, «j seeing a roasted lark, that the fire-place had been moved round the spit to ceok it."

Afiu, satisfied with ,this pleasantry, the gentleman turned quickly on his heel, without- tumbling hLr.self any further with his

"I must give way to you," said the Provost, whose arguments did not take this sprightly form. " Your infernal wit will bring you to the stake."

"In that case, Provost, rest assured— you are sure to die in your bed."

This impertinence transfixed the Provost in his place. When he looked for Cyrano to reply to it, the latter was at the other end of'the drawing room, seated with Roland, near Gilberte.

No allusion to the scene of the previous day had as yet been made in the presence of his betrothed by Count de Lembrat. But when Cyrano was there as a third person in the conversation, Roland did not hesitate to touch on this still burning question. Cyrano's abstraction had not escaped him, and he distinctly saw Sulpice Castillan start in pursuit of the three gipsies.

" Have you seen your young secretary again?" he asked Cyrano. " Why do you ask'? ". . .

" Because Master Sulpice seemed to me very much bewitched by that sybil's lovely eyes, who told us such pleasant things yesterday, and began to follow her with an ardour that should have led him far."

" That proves Castillan has good taste. The gipsy girl was worth looking at. Be reassured, however, my secretary came back."

The Count, anxious to get to know the solution of this riddle he had set himself, was going to hazard a fresh question, when Savinien-anticipated him. " When I learnt yesterday, my dear Roland, of your approaching marriage," he said, " while rejoicing with you over it, a sad thought, passed through my mind." "What?"' " I was thinking of your brother, Roland." The Count shuddered. Gilberte looked attentive. "A brother," she said; "the Count has not spoken to us about him." "That was because he feared- to sadden you by a. painful disclosure," Cyrano suggested a little ironically. " Indeed," stammered Roland ; " why reawaken these memories ; why recall' this gloomy story, which, alas! cannot have an end." Cyrano smiled vaguely, and murmured: "Perhaps." ■ A troubled expression was depicted on Count de Lembrat's features. j " Tell us this story, Monsieur de Cyrano," entreated Gilberte, "I beg you." "It is very simple. Ludovic, Roland's brother, was five years old when I was 13, and old Count de Lembrat, by whom I had been brought up, often entrusted the child to me. I taught' him how to mount on horseback, how to fence, everything that I myself already practised tolerably well. One day, when I was away

from Fougerolles, Ludovic wandered a little way from the castle with the gardener's son, a schoolboy of his own age, called Simon Vidal. When evening came, a fruitless search was made for the two children. Had they fallen into the Dordogne, .looking for birds' nests under the

willows? Had they been kidnapped by a band of gipsies? No one could tell. Count'

de Lembrat died, commending Roland to me, and recalling • Ludovic to my mind, whom I swore to find if he was still alive." "It is more than 15 years ago since Ludovic disappeared,'' interposed the Count;, "no doubt he'is dead." " Your brother would now be at an age when a man thinks and finds out; who knows if he will not find out some day, since you, yourself, have not had the good fortune to find him?"

" Oh! I long for it with all my heart, cried Gilberte.

Cyrano's purpose has been guessed at. Before disclosing the existence of his brother to Roland, he was making a study of that gentleman's feelings ; before putting his friendship to the test,' he wanted to know on what ground he was going to take up the game. Roland's countenance was evidently troubled. The possibility of his brother's return awakened in him mute rebellion; he instinctively felt that he was menaced. "This recognition," answered Cyrano, in reply to Gilberte's exclamation," "would cost Roland the half of his fortune; but I do not think he would regret it." The Count felt the thrust, and answered coldly: "My /brother can return; he will be received with open arms ; I shall do for him what I ought, but I shan't forget that I am the elder of the Lembrats." " I had judged rightly," thought Cyrano ; "there'll be a struggle." Then he suggested quietly: "■The elder of the Lembrats, that's all very well, but . . . ."

"But . . . ?" " That will not exempt you from giving an account to your brother." "The law is on my side, I .think." Roland's character was beginning to reveal itself in its true light. "The law must be respected, no doubt," said Cyrano, " nevertheless, it is waived in the face of certain considerations."

"Which?" "The will" of a, father." "In that case there must be " "What?" "A will." ' " Just so, my dear friend, and that is what I was coming to. Without a doubt this will . . ."" " Well? " "Is in existence." "Mv father's?" . " Yo;ir father's." " You are mistaken, Cyrano." <! Not at all; • I have said nothing to you about it, because it was 'no use speaking of it, so long as you were not engaged; but as you are going to get? married, it is right that your new family should not be ignorant of your past debts and future obligations."

"No one was. more jealous than my father of the honour of his name; if he has done what you say, he cannot have dispossessed me without departing from his principles."

" He loved his sons with a like affection, he wished both to be equal in fortune and in honours." . . " You must be familiar with this will, to know so much about it?" -"I am." Roland bit his lips. " Where has my father deposited it?j' he asked, trembling. "In my hands." The Count stifled a cry. " Count," said Gilberte, inwardly hurt at her fiance's attitude, " would you regret the choice that your father made?" " God forbid! my father loved Savinien, and knew that he was strong and true; I now form only one wish, that nay brother may return! Even after making over to him the half of my estate, I sliould still be wealthy enough to give you the happy.life you have a right to expect." "Well spoken, Roland," said Cyrano, as he rose to take his leave.* •' The Count kept him back, and, drawing him a little aside, asked in a low tone: "My dear friend,. where ,is this will of 'my father's? " "Why?"' "Mere curiosity! And then, couldn't wo get the necessary legal permission to open the document?" . . . . " Take care, Roland, you' are doubting 'my word." '" Not at all." " There are other things beside money matters m your father's will." "What is there, then?" "A terrible confession." "Terrible! for whom?" "For you." "For me?" " Yes, believe me, Roland; for your own peace of mind, let your father's secret rest." " But, fina,lly,"- insisted the Count, provoked and at the same time perplexed by these disclosures, behind which he felt there was a vague threat, "if you should happen to die, what would become of this will?"

" Don't trouble yourself about that difficulty; I have provided for it."

And as Roland looked at him irresolutely, Cyrano concluded by taking him by the hand, and saying :

" My dear Count, you are approaching a momentous time. It is not without a purpose that I • have. just ■ told you of these things. You are approaching a momentous time, and, ■ before confronting you with facts, I wanted to know how I could hope or fear for your feelings; my opinion is formed now."

But what are you going to inform me of?"

" You shaill know to-morrow, at my house; can I expect to see you?"

"I promise, at your door."

At 10 o'clock I will knock