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“The Emperor had preserved,” said Marmus to himself, “the saintly idea of the Convention. I remember,” he muttered aloud, “what he said to me when I was presented to him as a member of the Institute. Napoleon the First said, ‘Marmus, I am the Emperor of the French, but you are the King of the infinitely little and you will organize them as I have organized the Empire.’ Ah, he was a very great man and a man of wit! The French appreciated this too late.”

The professor replaced Malus and the essay on him in the ten-sous stall, without remarking how often hope had been lit and extinguished alternately in the gray eyes of an old woman seated on a stool in an angle of the quay.

“He was there,” Marmus said, pointing to the Tuileries on the opposite bank of the river. “I saw him reviewing his sublime troops! I saw him thin, ardent as the sands of Egypt; but, as soon as he became Emperor, he grew fat and good-natured, for all fat men are excellent–this is why Sinard is thin, he is a gall-making machine. But would Napoleon have supported my theory?”

V

FIRST COURSE

It was the hour at which they went to the dinner table in the house of Marmus’s sister-in-law. The professor walked slowly toward the Chamber of Deputies, asking himself if his theory might have had Napoleon’s support. He could no longer judge Napoleon save from that point of view. Did Napoleon’s genius coincide with that of Marmus in regard to the assimilation of things engendered by an attraction perpetual and continuous?

VI

SECOND COURSE

“No, Baron Sinard was a worshipper of power. He would have gone to the Emperor and told him that my theory was the inspiration of an atheist. And Napoleon, who has done a great deal of religious sermonizing for political reasons, would have persecuted me. He had no love for ideas. He was a courtier of facts! Moreover, in Napoleon’s time, it would not have been possible for me to communicate freely with Germany. Would they have lent me their aid–Wytheimler, Grosthuys, Scheele, Stamback, Wagner?

“To make men of science agree–men of science agree!–the Emperor should have made peace; in time of peace, perhaps, he would have taken an interest in my quarrel with Sinard! Sinard, my friend, my pupil, become my antagonist, my enemy! He, a man of genius–

“Yes, he is a man of genius. I do justice to him in the face of all the world.”

At this moment the professor could talk aloud without trouble to himself or to the passers-by. He was near the Chamber of Deputies, the session was closed, all Paris was at dinner–except the man of science.

Marmus was haranguing the statues which, it must be conceded, are similar to all audiences. In France there is not an audience that is not prohibited from giving marks of approval or disapproval. Otherwise, there is not an audience that would not turn orator.

At the Iena bridge Marmus had a pain in the stomach. He heard the hoarse voice of a cab driver. Marmus thought that he was ill and let himself be ushered into the cab. He made himself comfortable in it.

When the driver asked, “Where?” Marmus replied quietly:

“Home.”

“Where is your home, Monsieur?” asked the driver.

“Number three,” Marmus replied.

“What street?” asked the driver.

“Ah, you are right, my friend. But this is extraordinary,” he said, taking the driver into his confidence. “I have been so busy comparing the hyoides and the caracoides–yes, that’s it. I will catch Sinard in the act. At the next session of the Institute he will have to yield to evidence.”

The driver wrapped his ragged cloak around him. Resignedly, he was saying to himself, “I have seen many odd folks, but this one–” He heard the word “Institute.”

“The Institute, Monsieur?” he asked.

“Yes, my friend, the Institute,” replied Marmus.

“Well he wears the red ribbon,” said the driver to himself. “Perhaps he has something to do with the Institute.”