XXIII
How the Doctor Realized That His Monkey Had Shamefully Imposed Upon Him
This time anger triumphed over respect; the doctor seized the monkey philosopher by the throat and dragged him howling into the study, where he administered the most terrible thrashing that the back of any metempsychosist had ever received.
The moment Heraclius’ tired arm relaxed its hold on the throat of the wretched beast, who after all was only guilty of the same tastes as those of his human brother, the monkey freed himself from the grasp of his outraged master, jumped on to the table, seized the Doctor’s big snuff box which was lying on a book and flung it, wide open, at its owner’s head. Heraclius just had time to close his eyes and avoid the whirlwind of snuff which would certainly have blinded him. When he opened them the criminal had disappeared, taking with him the manuscript of which he was presumed to be the author.
Heraclius’ consternation was indescribeable. He dashed like a madman in pursuit of the fugitive, determined to recover the precious manuscript at no matter what sacrifice. He explored the house from cellar to attic, opened all his cupboards and looked under all the furniture, but his search revealed nothing. At last he went and sat in despair under a tree in the garden. Presently he became aware of light little taps on his head, caused, so he thought at first, by dead leaves broken off by the wind. But suddenly he saw a little ball of paper rolling in front of him on the path. He picked it up and opened it. Mercy! It was a page of his manuscript. Horrified, he looked up and saw his accursed monkey calmly preparing fresh missiles of the same kind, with an expression of malignant joy on his face that Satan himself could not have outdone when he saw Adam accept the fatal apple—that apple which, throughout the ages, from Eve to Honorine, women have never ceased offering us. At the sight of this a terrible thought flashed through the Doctor’s mind and he realized that he had been deceived, tricked and mystified in the most abominable way by this hairy impostor who was no more the missing philosopher than he was the Pope or the Grand Turk. The precious document would have disappeared altogether had not Heraclius caught sight of a garden hose near at hand. He snatched it up and, working it with almost superhuman strength, gave the wretch such a totally unexpected bath that he began to jump from branch to branch with shrill cries. But the monkey, dodging cleverly to obtain a moment’s respite, suddenly flung the torn parchment straight in his adversary’s face, jumped down from the tree and fed towards the house. But before the manuscript had touched the doctor, the poor man had fallen on his back with his legs in the air, quite overcome with emotion. When he rose he had not the strength to avenge this new outrage but crept with difficulty back to his study where he discovered to his joy that only three pages were missing.