Locus Solus Read Online

With nothing staked except the honor of winning, each of us named his choice aloud.

Just as the moving rank reached the column in perfect alignment, Canterel (who had fixed the length of the race beforehand at three full laps) made an urgent, sweeping gesture with his arm, which the intelligent creatures perfectly understood; gently propelled by their three dorsal and pectoral fins, they vied with one another in their efforts to put on speed.

After an elegant turn, the competitors surged furiously to the left, Tertius setting the pace, closely pursued by Sextus, Primus and Quintus. Although the squad’s initial alignment was upset, the setons, having a certain elasticity, all remained perfectly taut — without pulling the sphere forward, letting it trail behind or giving it the slightest jolt.

Faustine’s hair, still swaying melodiously, provided an orchestral accompaniment to this mythological cavalcade.

The team circumnavigated Pilate, whose forehead had just lit up, then scurried off before our eyes with Quartus in the lead.

Just as the team occulted the impassive Danton, after neatly ma­noeuvring round the column, Septimus strained forward impetuously to overtake Quartus.

Septimus, greeted with great applause from his backers, then continued to maintain his lead round the little column.

The seven breasts were now generating a mass of gaseous pearls, whose numbers showed how much the excitement of the race ac­celerated their respiratory exchanges; at the Cartesian divers’ corner some of these bubbles became mixed with another aerial “Dubito” from Voltaire’s lips.

Canterel left the top of the ladder and, returning to our midst, took up a position on the right before a special facet whose center bore a very small circle marked in black. He stepped back three paces and closed one eye so as to obtain, within its tiny, dark circumference, a clear view of the column — now converted into a winning post.

On the straight the horses seemed aware that the end of the contest was at hand, for they made a supreme effort, and suddenly, to the applause of those who had backed the right one, Secundus won a decisive advantage. Canterel proclaimed him the winner, then decreed the race ended with a sharp cry to the obedient platoon, whose pace changed to a stately amble.

During this furious circuit Khóng-dk-lèn had remained apart, but, seeing peace restored, he started to chase the resplendent solar sphere like an elusive ball, which he kept patting gracefully with his paw in gentle, mischievous play.

As we turned our fascinated gaze from Faustine to the Cartesian divers and from the hippocampi to the frolicsome cat, the professor began speaking to us of the diamond and its contents.

∗ ∗ ∗

Canterel had discovered how to produce a kind of water which, thanks to a special, very potent oxygenation that he renewed from time to time, enabled any terrestrial creature whatsoever, human or animal, to live fully submerged without interrupting its breathing.

The professor determined to construct a huge container of glass so as to display properly certain experiments he had in mind, connected with various ways of turning the strange liquid to account.

At first sight, the most striking peculiarity of this water was its astounding brilliance; the smallest drop shone with blinding light and seemed, even in the shade, to sparkle with a fire of its own. Anxious to show this attractive property to full advantage, Canterel chose a distinctive many-sided shape for the construction of his container, which, when completed and filled with the flashing water, exactly resembled a gigantic diamond. The professor sited the dazzling tank on the sunniest spot in his estate, with its narrow base lying almost flush with the ground in an artificial rock; when the sun came out the whole object took on an almost unbearable radiance. The round hole which opened in the colossal jewel’s roof could be closed, when necessary, with a special metal lid. This prevented rain from getting mixed with the precious water, which Canterel named aqua-micans.

The professor was bent on selecting a graceful and fascinating woman to play the indispensable role of sea nymph and, in a letter crammed with precise instructions, he summoned Faustine, a dancer celebrated for the beautiful harmony of her poses.

Sporting a flesh-colored costume and with her magnificent, long, blond hair falling naturally, as her character required, Faustine mounted a slender and costly double ladder of nickeled metal standing beside the great diamond, then slipped into the photogenic tide.

By immersing himself, Canterel had often experienced the easy sub­marine breathing which his specially oxygenated water made possible, but in spite of his encouragement Faustine was very cautious about plunging in; she grasped the tank’s projecting edge with both hands and lifted her head out several times before making the final dive. At length, fully reassured by various attempts, each more prolonged than the one before, she let herself sink, and set foot on the bottom of the container.

Her mane of hair waved gently about, with a tendency to rise, as she tried out a number of sculptural poses, which were rendered all the easier and more beautiful by the fact that the liquid pressure made her extremely light.

Gradually, because of the excessive amounts of oxygen she was absorbing, she became gay and elated. Then, after a while, her hair began to give out a vague resonance which swelled or died away according to the amplitude of her head movements. Soon the strange music became deeper and more intense, each hair vibrating like the string of an instrument, and at Faustine’s slightest movement her whole head gave out long and infinitely varied enfilades of sound, like some Aeolian harp. The silky, blond threads produced different notes according to their length, with a compass extending over more than three octaves.

After half an hour, the professor, perched on a double ladder, came to Faustine’s assistance: he grasped her with one hand by the nape and hoisted her up beside him on the container’s top, in order to return to the ground.

Canterel, who had been present throughout the performance, ex­amined the splendid mane of musical hair and discovered a kind of extremely thin aqueous sheath round each strand, having its origin in a fine deposit caused by certain chemical salts dissolved in the aqua-micans. The whole mop of hair had been strongly electrified by the presence of these invisible envelopes and had begun to vibrate under the friction of the brilliant water, which — as the professor had previously ascertained — combined great acoustical power with its incomparable luminosity.

Then Canterel asked himself what effect such a phenomenon would have on the fur of a cat, which is so easily electrified anyway.

He possessed a white Siamese tomcat named Khóng-dk-lèn* that was remarkably intelligent; he sent for it at once and immersed it in the container.

Khóng-dk-lèn sank gently, continuing to breathe in the normal way, and though frightened at first, soon became adapted to the novel surroundings. On touching the bottom he began to prowl about inquisitively.

Soon, feeling lighter than usual, he performed some great leaps, which he found most diverting. Little by little, after a sudden ascent, he learnt to delay his fall by means of skillful paw movements and thus became initiated into the art of swimming, with which he seemed destined to become speedily familiar.

The fur became electrified as expected, bristled slightly and started to vibrate; but since the hairs were short and of almost equal length, they conveyed only a feeble and confused hum. On the other hand — and here was a new phenomenon not displayed by Faustine’s hair — its tegument became covered with coarse, whitish phosphorescence, so intense as to be visible in broad daylight, standing out vividly against the sparkle of the water itself, which was already bright enough. Without their harming or hindering his swimming activities, which were still easy and continuous, Khóng-dk-lèn appeared surrounded by dazzling, lambent flames.

When Canterel observed the erethism that the water’s intense oxygenation was inevitably producing in the cat, he decided to end the experiment; reaching the top of the ladder, he called Khóng-dk-lèn, who swam to the surface. He grasped the feline by pinching the skin behind its neck and descended to place it on the ground. But, in the course of this short trip he suffered incessant electric shocks due to the contact of his hand with the white fur, each hair of which was encircled by a thin transparent, aqueous sheath.

While still in pain, Canterel suddenly had an idea that was a direct consequence of the very violence of the shocks he had experienced and which depended upon a curious fact of family history.

Philibert Canterel, the professor’s great-great-grandfather, had grown up with Danton like a brother, for he was born at the same time in the little town of Arcis-sur-Aube. Later on, during his brilliant political career, Danton never forgot his childhood friend, who was now engaged in finance and led an active though obscure life in Paris, studiously avoiding the publicity that he felt threatened him as the alter ego of the famous tribune.

When Danton was condemned to death, Philibert was able to gain access to him and receive his last wishes. Danton had got wind of certain machinations of his enemies, who seemed bent on throwing his remains into a common grave, with no indication by which they might ever be identified. So he implored his faithful friend to do his utmost, by pulling various strings, to get possession of his head at least.

Philibert went at once to find Sanson and explain the prisoner’s last wish to him.

Sanson, who was a devoted admirer of the famous orator, resolved to disobey orders in such a case. He gave Philibert the following instructions and commissioned him to transmit them to the condemned man. Just as he was to die, Danton, with that eloquent and emphatic bravado which would astonish no one coming from an impromptu speaker such as he, was to beg Sanson to show the people his head — using the proverbial ugliness of his features as an ironical pretext. After the knife had fallen, Sanson, in obedience to the executed man’s instructions, would lift the bloody head from the basket and display it for several seconds to the avid gaze of the crowd. Just as he let go, he was to send it, with a skillful movement of his hand, into a second basket always standing beside the first, which contained the rags used in wiping the knife as well as various tools used for sharpening the blade and making any urgent repairs the apparatus might require. On that day the two baskets would be even closer than usual and the subterfuge could hardly fail to go quite undetected.

Pleased at the outcome of his mission, Philibert went again to Danton and informed him of the executioner’s suggestions. Then the tribune voiced a touching desire: if the plot were to succeed, he wished to have his head embalmed and transmitted from father to son in his friend’s family, in memory of the latter’s heroic devotion, which was not without danger to his life. Promising to carry out his wishes to the letter, Philibert tearfully bade Danton a long farewell, for the execution was imminent.

Next day, before kneeling under the knife, Danton obeyed the instructions he had received, addressing Sanson in the famous words: “You must show my head to the people; it’s worth it.” A few moments later the blade did its work and Sanson took the head from the basket to display it to the shuddering crowd. Next, as he let it drop from a height, he had only to give it a little sideways impetus to make it fall into the tool basket, which was right beside the other.