The Man With The Broken Ear | Page 5

Renault did not yet know where they had put Leon's baggage.
Gothon came to say that everything had been thrown pell-mell into the
sorcerer's den, to remain there until Monsieur should point out what he
wanted taken to his own room. The whole company, armed with lamps
and candles, betook themselves to a vast room on the ground floor,
where furnaces, retorts, philosophical instruments, boxes, trunks,
clothes bags, hat boxes and the famous steam-engine, formed a
confused and entertaining spectacle. The light played about this interior,
as it appears to in certain pictures of the Dutch school. It glanced upon
the great yellow cylinders of the electric machine, struck upon the long
glass bottles, rebounded from two silver reflectors, and rested, in
passing, upon a magnificent Fortin barometer. The Renaults and their
friends, grouped in the midst of the boxes--some sitting, some standing,
one holding a lamp, another a candle--detracted nothing from the
picturesqueness of the scene.
Leon, with a bunch of little keys, opened the boxes one after another.
Clementine was seated opposite him on a great oblong box, and
watched him with all her eyes, more from affection than curiosity. They

began by setting to one side two enormous square boxes which
contained nothing but mineralogical specimens. After this they passed
in review the riches of all kinds which the engineer had crowded
among his linen and clothing.
A pleasant odor of Russia leather, tea from the caravans, Levant
tobacco, and attar of roses soon permeated the laboratory. Leon brought
forth a little at a time, as is the custom of all rich travellers who, on
leaving home, left a family and good stock of friends behind. He
exhibited, in turn, fabrics of the Asiatic looms, narghiles of embossed
silver from Persia, boxes of tea, sherbets flavored with rose, precious
extracts, golden webs from Tarjok, antique armor, a service of frosted
silver of Toula make, jewelry mounted in the Russian style, Caucasian
bracelets, necklaces of milky amber, and a leather sack full of
turquoises such as they sell at the fair of Nijni Novgorod. Each object
passed from hand to hand amid questions, explanations, and
interjections of all kinds. All the friends present received the gifts
intended for them. There was a concert of polite refusals, friendly
urgings, and 'thank-yous' in all sorts of voices. It is unnecessary to say
that much the greater share fell to the lot of Clementine; but she did not
wait to be urged to accept them, for, in the existing state of affairs, all
these pretty things would be but as a part of the wedding gifts--not
going out of the family.
Leon had brought his father an exceedingly handsome dressing gown
of a cloth embroidered with gold, some antiquarian books found in
Moscow, a pretty picture by Greuze, which had been stuck out of the
way, by the luckiest of accidents, in a mean shop at Gastinitvor; two
magnificent specimens of rock-crystal, and a cane that had belonged to
Humboldt. "You see," said he to M. Renault, on handing him this
historic staff, "that the postscript of your last letter did not fall
overboard." The old professor received the present with visible
emotion.
"I will never use it," said he to his son. "The Napoleon of science has
held it in his hand: what would one think if an old sergeant like me
should permit himself to carry it in his walks in the woods? And the

collections? Were you not able to buy anything from them? Did they
sell very high?"
"They were not sold," answered Leon. "All were placed in the National
Museum at Berlin. But in my eagerness to satisfy you, I made a thief of
myself in a strange way. The very day of my arrival, I told your wish to
a guide who was showing me the place. He told me that a friend of his,
a little Jew broker by the name of Ritter, wanted to sell a very fine
anatomical specimen that had belonged to the estate. I ran to the Jew's,
examined the mummy, for such it was, and, without any haggling, paid
the price he asked. But the next day, a friend of Humboldt, Professor
Hirtz, told me the history of this shred of a man, which had been lying
around the shop for more than ten years, and never belonged to
Humboldt at all. Where the deuce has Gothon stowed it? Ah! Mlle.
Clementine is sitting on it."
Clementine attempted to rise, but Leon made her keep seated.
"We have plenty of time," said he, "to take a look at the old baggage;
meanwhile you can well imagine that it is not a very cheerful sight.
This is the history that good old Hirtz told me; he promised to send me,
in addition,