“ ‘Honour thy father and thy mother that thy days may be long in the land …’ ”
“It is true,” he added, “that I, who am not a believer, rather than let myself die of hunger, would prefer to change the divine precept slightly—or rather to replace it by this:
“ ‘Devour thy father and thy mother that thy days may be long in the land.’ ”
XVI
How the Forty-Second Reading of the Manuscript Shed New Light Into the Doctor’s Mind
Just as a rich man can derive new pleasures and new satisfactions from his great fortune, so Doctor Heraclius, in possession of the inestimable manuscript, made surprising discoveries therein each time that he reread it.
One evening when he had finished reading it for the forty-second time, a sudden idea flashed upon him like lightning. As we have already seen, the Doctor could tell approximately at what date a man who had disappeared would end his transmigrations and reappear in his first form. He was thus suddenly thunderstruck by the thought that the author of the manuscript might have regained his place in humanity. Then, as feverishly excited as an alchemist who thinks himself on the point of discovering the philosopher’s stone, he set to work on the most minute calculations to establish the probability of this supposition and after several hours of persistent work on abstruse metempsychosic deductions, he managed to convince himself that this man must be his contemporary or at any rate be on the point of being reborn to the life of reason. But Heraclius possessed no document which indicated the precise date of the great metempsychosist’s death and therefore could not fix for certain the moment of his return.
He had hardly glimpsed the possibility of discovering this being who in his eyes was more than man, more than philosopher, almost more than God, when he was conscious of one of those profound emotions such as one experiences when one suddenly learns that one’s father, whom for years one had thought dead, is living and close to one. A holy anchorite who had sustained himself all his life on the love and remembrance of Christ and who realised suddenly that his God was about to appear before him, would not have been more overcome than was Doctor Heraclius when he had convinced himself that he would one day meet the author of the manuscript.
XVII
How Doctor Heraclius Gloss Set About Finding the Author of the Manuscript
A few days later readers of the Balançon Star noted with astonishment on the fourth page of the paper the following advertisement:
Pythagoras—Rome in 184—memory recovered on the pedestal of a statue of Jupiter—philosopher, architect, soldier, workman, monk, surveyor, doctor, poet, sailor—think and remember—the story of your life is in my hands. Write H. G. ℅ P.O. Balançon.
The doctor never doubted that if the man whom he so eagerly desired to find happened to read this notice, incomprehensible to everyone else, he would at once grasp its hidden meaning and put in an appearance. So every day before sitting down to his meal he went to the Post Office to ask if there were any letters addressed to H. G. and each time he pushed open the door on which was written “Letters, Inquiries, Prepayments,” he was actually more agitated than a lover on the point of opening his first letter from his mistress.
But alas! day followed day and was despairingly like its predecessor: the clerk gave the Doctor the same answer each morning; and each morning the latter returned home more gloomy and more discouraged. But the inhabitants of Balançon, like everybody else in the world, were subtle, indiscreet, slanderous and inquisitive, and soon connected the surprising notice inserted in the Star with the daily visits of the Doctor to the Post Office. And then they asked themselves what mystery there was in the affair and began to discuss it.
XVIII
In Which Doctor Heraclius Recognises with Amazement the Author of the Manuscript
One night, being unable to sleep, the doctor got up between one and two in the morning to reread a passage that he thought he had not quite understood. He put on his slippers and opened the door of his room as softly as possible so as not to disturb all the “human-animals” who were expiating their sins under his roof. Whatever had been the previous circumstances of these lucky creatures, they had certainly never before enjoyed such perfect peace and happiness, for such was the kindness of heart of the good man that in his hospitable house they found food, lodging and everything else. Without making a sound, the Doctor reached his study door and went in. Now Heraclius was without doubt a courageous man. He was not afraid of spectres or ghosts; but however fearless a man may be, there exist certain terrors which, like cannon balls, will pierce the most indomitable courage. The Doctor stood transfixed, livid, horror-stricken, his eyes haggard and his hair on end, his teeth chattering and his whole body quivering from head to foot in a dreadful way, before the incomprensible sight which confronted him.
His lamp was alight on his table, and before the fire, with his back turned to the door by which he himself had entered, he saw … Doctor Heraclius Gloss, studiously perusing his manuscript. There was no possible doubt. It was certainly himself. Over his shoulders was his own long silk dressing-gown embroidered with large red flowers, and on his head was his Greek cap made of black velvet traced in gold. The Doctor realised that if this other self of his were to turn round, if the two Heraclius’ were to see each other face to face, he, who was shaking in his skin at that very moment, would fall shrivelled before this reproduction of himself. Then another nervous spasm caused his hands to twitch, and the candlestick which he was carrying
