“In fine, I am thus,” she continued. “It is, therefore, not astonishing that the physiognomy and the attitude of the man who drew the curtains in Monsieur Caffie’s office should not leave my memory. You admit this, do you not?”
“Since you consult me, I must tell you that the operations of the memory are not so simple as people imagine. They comprise three things: the conservation of certain states, their reproduction and localization in the past, which should be reunited to constitute the perfect memory. Now this reunion does not always take place, and often the third is lacking.”
“I do not grasp your meaning very well. But what is the third thing?”
“Recognition.”
“Well, I can assure you that in this case it is not lacking!”
The action beginning in this way, it was of the utmost importance for Saniel that he should throw doubts in Madame Dammauville’s mind, and should make her think that this memory of which she felt so sure was not, perhaps, as strong or as perfect as she imagined.
“It is,” he said, “exactly this third thing that is the most delicate, the most complex of the three, since it supposes, besides the state of consciousness, some secondary states, variable in number and in degree, which, grouped around it, determine it.”
Madame Dammauville remained silent a moment, and Saniel saw that she made an effort to explain these obscure words to herself.
“I do not understand,” she said at last.
This was exactly what he wished; yet, as it would not be wise to let her believe that he desired to deceive or confuse her, he thought he might be a little more precise.