He fell to fighting again with a supernatural levity, like a Mohammedan panting for Paradise. As the train came nearer and nearer he fancied he could see people putting up the floral arches in Paris; he joined in the growing noise and the glory of the great Republic whose gate he was guarding against Hell. His thoughts rose higher and higher with the rising roar of the train, which ended, as if proudly, in a long and piercing whistle. The train stopped.
Suddenly, to the astonishment of everyone the Marquis sprang back quite out of sword reach and threw down his sword. The leap was wonderful, and not the less wonderful because Syme had plunged his sword a moment before into the man's thigh.
"Stop!" said the Marquis in a voice that compelled a momentary obedience. "I want to say something.""What is the matter?" asked Colonel Ducroix, staring. "Has there been foul play?""There has been foul play somewhere," said Dr. Bull, who was a little pale. "Our principal has wounded the Marquis four times at least, and he is none the worse ."The Marquis put up his hand with a curious air of ghastly patience.
"Please let me speak," he said. "It is rather important. Mr.
Syme," he continued, turning to his opponent, "we are fighting today, if I remember right, because you expressed a wish (which I thought irrational) to pull my nose. Would you oblige me by pulling my nose now as quickly as possible? I have to catch a train.""I protest that this is most irregular," said Dr. Bull indignantly.
"It is certainly somewhat opposed to precedent," said Colonel Ducroix, looking wistfully at his principal. "There is, I think, one case on record (Captain Bellegarde and the Baron Zumpt) in which the weapons were changed in the middle of the encounter at the request of one of the combatants. But one can hardly call one's nose a weapon.""Will you or will you not pull my nose?" said the Marquis in exasperation. "Come, come, Mr. Syme! You wanted to do it, do it!
You can have no conception of how important it is to me. Don't be so selfish! Pull my nose at once, when I ask you!" and he bent slightly forward with a fascinating smile. The Paris train, panting and groaning, had grated into a little station behind the neighbouring hill.
Syme had the feeling he had more than once had in these adventures --the sense that a horrible and sublime wave lifted to heaven was just toppling over. Walking in a world he half understood, he took two paces forward and seized the Roman nose of this remarkable nobleman. He pulled it hard, and it came off in his hand.
He stood for some seconds with a foolish solemnity, with the pasteboard proboscis still between his fingers, looking at it, while the sun and the clouds and the wooded hills looked down upon this imbecile scene.
The Marquis broke the silence in a loud and cheerful voice.
"If anyone has any use for my left eyebrow," he said, "he can have it. Colonel Ducroix, do accept my left eyebrow! It's the kind of thing that might come in useful any day," and he gravely tore off one of his swarthy Assyrian brows, bringing about half his brown forehead with it, and politely offered it to the Colonel, who stood crimson and speechless with rage.
"If I had known," he spluttered, "that I was acting for a poltroon who pads himself to fight--""Oh, I know, I know!" said the Marquis, recklessly throwing various parts of himself right and left about the field. "You are ****** a mistake; but it can't be explained just now. I tell you the train has come into the station!""Yes," said Dr. Bull fiercely, "and the train shall go out of the station. It shall go out without you. We know well enough for what devil's work--"The mysterious Marquis lifted his hands with a desperate gesture.
He was a strange scarecrow standing there in the sun with half his old face peeled off, and half another face glaring and grinning from underneath.
"Will you drive me mad?" he cried. "The train--""You shall not go by the train," said Syme firmly, and grasped his sword.
The wild figure turned towards Syme, and seemed to be gathering itself for a sublime effort before speaking.
"You great fat, blasted, blear-eyed, blundering, thundering, brainless, Godforsaken, doddering, damned fool!" he said without taking breath. "You great silly, pink-faced, towheaded turnip!
You--"
"You shall not go by this train," repeated Syme.
"And why the infernal blazes," roared the other, "should I want to go by the train?""We know all," said the Professor sternly. "You are going to Paris to throw a bomb!""Going to Jericho to throw a Jabberwock!" cried the other, tearing his hair, which came off easily.
"Have you all got softening of the brain, that you don't realise what I am? Did you really think I wanted to catch that train?
Twenty Paris trains might go by for me. Damn Paris trains!""Then what did you care about?" began the Professor.
"What did I care about? I didn't care about catching the train; Icared about whether the train caught me, and now, by God! it has caught me.""I regret to inform you," said Syme with restraint, "that your remarks convey no impression to my mind. Perhaps if you were to remove the remains of your original forehead and some portion of what was once your chin, your meaning would become clearer. Mental lucidity fulfils itself in many ways. What do you mean by saying that the train has caught you? It may be my literary fancy, but somehow I feel that it ought to mean something.""It means everything," said the other, "and the end of everything.
Sunday has us now in the hollow of his hand.""Us!" repeated the Professor, as if stupefied. "What do you mean by 'us'?""The police, of course!" said the Marquis, and tore off his scalp and half his face.
The head which emerged was the blonde, well brushed, smooth-haired head which is common in the English constabulary, but the face was terribly pale.
