“Here’s the animal man come out of the madhouse.”
Keeping close behind the Doctor they both began to imitate with remarkable skill the noise made by every sort of animal. Presently a dozen or more joined the first-comers and formed an escort to the ex-metempsychosist, as noisy as it was objectionable. One of them walked ten yards in front of the Doctor carrying a broom-handle on which he had fixed a rabbit skin like a flag. Three others followed imitating the roll of a drum, and then came the frightened Doctor; with his frock-coat tightly buttoned and his hat over his eyes he looked like a general in the middle of his troops.
After him came a whole horde of ragamuffins, running, turning cartwheels, yelling, bellowing, barking, miawing, neighing, mooing, crowing and inventing a thousand other amusing things, to the great enjoyment of the townsfolk standing at their doors. The bewildered Heraclius quickened his pace still more. Suddenly, a prowling dog got between his legs and in a paroxysm of rage the Doctor let fly such a terrific kick at the poor beast (which he would formerly have welcomed) that the latter ran off howling with pain. Such a tremendous din burst out all round that Heraclius lost his head and began to run as hard as he could, still followed by his infernal procession.
The gang passed like a whirlwind through the principal streets and came to a stop outside the Doctor’s house. Seeing the door ajar, he darted through it and closed it behind him. Then, still running, he went on up to his study. There he was greeted by the monkey, who put out his tongue at him as a sign of welcome. It was a sight that made him recoil as though a ghost had appeared. For was not his monkey the living souvenir of all his misfortunes, the cause of his madness and of all the humiliations and outrages to which he had been subjected? He seized an oak stool which was handy and with one blow split the miserable creature’s skull. The latter dropped like a stone at the feet of his murderer. Then, soothed at having carried out this execution, Heraclius sank into an armchair and unbuttoned his coat.
When Honorine appeared she almost fainted with joy at the sight of her master. In her delight she sprang towards him and kissed him on both cheeks, forgetting the distance that, in the eyes of the world, is supposed to exist between the master and his servant, in which, so it was said, the Doctor had already shown her the way. Meanwhile, the mob had not dispersed but was still creating such a noise outside the front door that Heraclius, much put out, went down into his garden. A horrible sight met his eyes.
Honorine who, although she deplored her master’s madness, had wanted to give him a pleasant surprise for his homecoming, had watched like a mother over the lives of all the animals in the place, so that, owing to their natural fecundity, the garden had the appearance of the interior of Noah’s Ark when the flood subsided. For the garden was a confused mass of animals, a veritable swarm, beneath which trees, shrubs, grass and earth had entirely disappeared. The branches were bent under the weight of whole regiments of birds, while underneath them dogs, cats, goats, sheep, chickens, ducks and turkeys, rolled in the dust. The air resounded with a clamour of sound as loud as that made by the brats on the other side of the house.
Heraclius could restrain himself no longer. He snatched up a spade which had been left against the wall and like the two famous warriors whose exploits are described by Homer, sprang this way and that, hitting out right and left. Foaming at the mouth and with rage in his heart, he began a terrible massacre of all his harmless friends. Terrified chickens hid under the walls and cats climbed up the trees. But he gave no quarter and the confusion was indescribable. When the ground was scattered with corpses he collapsed from sheer exhaustion and slept on the field of carnage like a victorious general.
Next day his excitement had vanished and he thought of taking a walk round the town. But as soon as he left his doorstep the street urchins, who had been lying in wait for him, started pursuing him once more, shouting: “Oh! Oh! the animal man! the friend of the beasts!” And they began to make the same noises as on the previous day, with plenty of added variations.
The Doctor went hurriedly back: anger choked him and, since he could not vent it on men, he swore a deadly hatred and vowed war to the death against all animals. From then onwards he had only one desire, one aim, one ceaseless preoccupation—to kill animals. He lay in wait for them from morning till night; he stretched nets in his garden to catch birds and snares in the gutters to strangle the neighbours’ cats. Passing dogs were attracted by appetising bits of meat placed in his half-open door—which always shut quickly when a foolish victim succumbed to temptation. Complaints were soon heard on all sides. The Chief of Police came several times in person to order him to stop his relentless warfare. He was inundated with summonses, but nothing could arrest his vengeance. At last there was general indignation. A second riot broke out in the town and he would without doubt have been lynched by the crowd but for the intervention of armed force. All the doctors in Balançon were summoned to the prefecture and declared unanimously that Dr. Heraclius Gloss was
