Life weighed heavily on me. I had exhausted all the pleasures of observation, and my new dwelling-place only occasioned me distress and repugnance.
I got thinner and thinner. The pasturage lost its savor. The spring was tasteless, and the company of the heifers became odious to me.
On the other hand, old desires imposed themselves on me like morbid whims—a desire to eat meat, and quaintest of all, the craving to smoke!
But other considerations were not so laughable. Fear of the laboratory made me tremble every time that an assistant came near the paddock, and I could not sleep for fear lest I should be bound during the night.
And that was not all! I was haunted by the conviction that my ox’s brain would go mad. My attacks of uncontrollable wrath might bring on madness, and they became more frequent, for the conduct of Emma was not calculated to mitigate them.
Can the face of a savage murderer be the face of love, and can one be astonished that so many sweethearts close their eyes when the god kisses them?
So Emma looked with pleasure at the hideous Minotaur, and did not perceive Lerne, who was on the watch, laughing in his sleeves at her mistake.
Yes, laughing, but in the philosophical way, in order not to weep! My uncle was obviously suffering. He seemed to have grasped that Emma would never love him, and the Professor took his disillusionment ill.
He was growing old, and killing himself with work.
On the terrace of the laboratory and on the roof of the château, some machines had been installed whose handling interested me very much. They were surmounted with characteristic antennæ, and as electric bells were continually ringing in the recesses of the two buildings, my opinion was that they had been transformed into wireless telegraphy and telephone stations.