The Man with the Black Feather. Gaston Louis Alfred Leroux
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Gaston Louis Alfred Leroux
The Man with the Black Feather
Published by Good Press, 2021
EAN 4064066462840
Table of Contents
M. Theophrastus Longuet Desires to Improve His Mind and Visits Historical Monuments
Theophrastus Longuet Bursts into Song
Adolphe Lecamus is Flabbergasted but Frank
Theophrastus Shows the Black Feather
Strange Position of a Little Violet Cat
The Explanation of the Strange Attitude of a Little Violet Cat
Theophrastus Maintains that He Did Not Die on the Place de Grève
The Drawbacks of Psychic Surgery
Theophrastus Begins to Take an Interest in Things
The Strange Behaviour of an Express Train
The Earless Man with His Head Out of the Window
In which the Catastrophe which Appears on the Point of Being Explained, Grows yet More Inexplicable
M. Longuet Fishes in the Catacombs
M. Mifroid Parts from Theophrastus
Theophrastus Goes into Eternal Exile
M. Theophrastus Longuet Desires to Improve His Mind and Visits Historical Monuments
CHAPTER I
M. THEOPHRASTUS LONGUET DESIRES TO IMPROVE HIS MIND AND VISITS HISTORICAL MONUMENTS
M. Theophrastus Longuet was not alone when he rang the bell of that old-time palace prison, the Conciergerie: he was accompanied by his wife Marceline, a very pretty woman, uncommonly fair for a Frenchwoman, of an admirable figure, and by M. Adolphe Lecamus, his best friend.
The door, pierced by a small barred peephole, turned heavily on its hinges, as a prison door should; the warder, who acts as guide to the prison, dangling a bunch of great old-fashioned keys in his hand, surveyed the party with official gloom, and asked Theophrastus for his permit. Theophrastus had procured it that very morning at the Prefecture of Police; he held it out with the air of a citizen assured of his rights, and regarded his friend Adolphe with a look of triumph.
He admired his friend almost as much as he admired his wife. Not that Adolphe was exactly a handsome man; but he wore an air of force and vigour; and there was nothing in the world which Theophrastus, the timidest man in Paris, rated more highly than force and vigour. That broad and bulging brow (whereas his own was narrow and high), those level and thick eyebrows, for the most part raised a trifle to express contempt of others and self-confidence, that piercing glance (whereas his own pale-blue eyes blinked behind the spectacles of the short-sighted), that big nose, haughtily arched, those lips surmounted by a brown, curving moustache, that strong, square chin; in a word, all that virile antithesis to his own grotesque, flabby-cheeked face, was the perpetual object of his silent admiration. Besides, Adolphe had been Post-Office Inspector in Tunis: he had "crossed the sea."
Theophrastus had only crossed the river Seine. No one can pretend that that is a real crossing.
The guide set the party in motion; then he said:
"You are French?"
Theophrastus stopped short in the middle of the court.
"Do we look like Germans?" he said with a confident smile, for he was quite sure that he was French.
"It's the first time I ever remember French people coming to visit the Conciergerie. As a rule French people don't visit anything," said the guide with his air of official gloom; and he went on.
"It is wrong of them. The monuments of the Past are the Book of History," said Theophrastus sententiously; and he stopped short to look proudly at his wife and Adolphe, for he found the saying fine.
They were not listening to him; and as he followed the guide, he went on in a confidential tone, "I am an old Parisian myself; and if I have waited till to-day to visit the monuments of the Past, it was because my business—I