VII
How One May Interpret a Couplet by Corneille in Two Ways
By the time the doctor had finished reading this strange document, he was rigid with stupefaction. Then without any bargaining he bought it for the sum of twelve pounds and fivepence halfpenny, allowing the bookseller to pass it off on him as a Hebrew manuscript recovered from the excavations at Pompeii.
The Doctor remained in his study for four days and nights, and by dint of patience and with the help of dictionaries, managed to decipher, more or less successfully, the German and Spanish periods of the manuscript: for though he knew Greek, Latin and a little Italian, he was almost entirely ignorant of German and Spanish. At length, fearing that he might have grossly misinterpreted the sense, he begged his friend, the Warden, who was deeply versed in these two languages, to correct the translation. This the latter did with pleasure; but it was three whole days before he could set himself seriously to the task, because every time he glanced through the doctor’s version he was overcome by a fit of laughter so prolonged and so violent that twice he almost had convulsions. When he was asked the reason of this extraordinary hilarity he replied:
“The reason? Well, there are three: firstly, the ridiculous face of my worthy colleague Heraclius: secondly, his equally ridiculous translation, which is as much like the text as a guitar is like a windmill: and lastly, the text itself, which is as queer a thing as one could possibly imagine.”
Oh, obstinate Warden! Nothing could convince him. The sun itself might have come in person to burn his beard and his hair and he would have taken it for a candle. As for Doctor Heraclius Gloss, it need hardly be said that he was radiant, enlightened, transformed. Like Pauline, he kept repeating every other moment:
“I see, I feel, I believe, I am disillusioned.” And each time the Warden interrupted him to observe that disillusioned could be written in two ways.
“I see, I feel, I believe, I am among the deluded.”