Chapter 31
I become doubtful about the methods used for my recovery, as I am pursued by a planet
A thousand dark thoughts followed, one after another. Always unhappy, always brought down by my own gullibility, I would always be freed from one power, only to fall under the spell of another, one, even stronger.
That evening I had a visit from Etienne Prieur. Once more, he said that everything that Imbert had proposed and he had done was absolutely necessary for my happiness. But I was done with these trials, and what he said meant nothing. He said I shouldn’t be worried anymore, but I pointed out that, with the interest Imbert had taken in him, it was likely that he had been groomed by my tormenters, sent to me to take me into their power and deliver me to them. This, I said, was unlikely to make me happier. He tried to ease my concerns. The verbena had been placed in the corners of the room as Father Imbert instructed, to free me from the control of my enemies. But there was nothing that could ease my fears, particularly since this planetary spirit raised my suspicions. But time would tell.
Etienne continued to bring me his friends and relatives and friends of friends, to show them what Pinel had written on my mirror, and the inscription underneath, and they all offered up variations of what an ass he was. Etienne again took up his knife and went through the ritual again with this audience, pointing out how much Pinel and his associates were suffering at that very moment, and how cruelly he was treating them.
But my enemies resolved that I must be deprived of my squirrel, whose crime was to let me forget their torments for even a moment. Toward the end of October 1817, at nine o’clock in the morning, I was shocked to find the little animal motionless and on the edge of death, bloodied, a part of his tail cut off. No one had come into my apartment. What inhuman monster could have done such a thing? But monsters that they are, their time will come. God leaves nothing unpunished. Your torments will last far longer, as you are judged for each of your crimes! There will be no time for forgiveness.
Etienne came to see me that day, and I told him about my squirrel’s misfortune. He laughed, telling me that it was another trick from Dr. Pinel, but that particular goblin had not made his presence known for a long time. I didn’t recognize this as his work, but rather that of another, my experience had taught me to distinguish the works of various sorcerers and magicians.
He laughed again, and told me that he could not stay any longer, but would see me again soon. His treacherous nature was now clear to me. When Baptiste Prieur returned from his medical studies, I told him what had happened to my poor Coco, and he was as hurt as I was. I asked if perhaps Father Imbert had been told about my little companion. He hadn’t planned to see Imbert until the next day. But he said that he knew what my enemies had been up to: a gentleman I had a quarrel with gave La Mançot and La Vandeval a hundred francs to cast a spell on me.
“But you are delivered from their hands,” he said. “We only took you into our power to get you out of theirs. Give me another chance,” he said, seeing that I was in a dark mood. “I will see Father Imbert tomorrow, and find out where exactly we stand. If he doesn’t explain himself, I’ll teach him to make fun of us.”
“My concern,” I said, “is that the priest of Saint-Louis will deliver you from your troubles, but only to bury me in deeper ones. The methods you used prove this to me. The planets and spirits you called on are those same ones thrown against me by the Pinels, Moreau, and so many others, tossing me from one power to another, each time saying they were going to restore my freedom. I haven’t been initiated into your mysteries, I don’t see the changes you say you see in me, and you still haven’t introduced me to Father Imbert. Let me speak to him myself.”
“It is not necessary,” he replied. “I’ll see him tomorrow. I’m sure he’ll keep his promise.”
“But why am I hearing the howls and cries of animals at night? Did you open the door for them to come into my apartment, and sneak them in while I was sleeping?” He laughed, happy to see I had some humor left in me. “I’m not happy with them. They scuttle across me at night, touching me, whispering in my ears. What does it mean? When will it end?”
“Everything will stop at the same time,” he said.
This wasn’t the answer I needed. I asked him if he’d figured out how to combine outrage with deception. That seemed to throw him. “How could you have thought,” he said, “that I’d do anything to hurt you? I’ll see Imbert tomorrow. He’ll take stock of our position, tell me where we are. This uncertainty is worse than death. He’ll have to listen to me. Everything I know about him tells me that he will give us the answers we need. And I’ll give them to you.”
And at this, he left.
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