It was worth it, even if it was merely a figment of the brain. What remained for me to learn surpasses the nightmare of a madman. Frightful, assuredly, but comic too in a way—grotesque, sinister.
Which of the sufferers inspired most horror? The guinea-pig, the frog or the trees?
The guinea-pig, perhaps was the least extraordinary. Its pelt may have been green only as the result of the green reflection from all those plants. That may be so.
But the frog! But the trees! What was one to think of them?
The frog was green as grass and had all its four legs forced into the soil, planted in the middle of a pot like a vegetable with four roots, its eyelids closed, its aspect dull and mournful.
As for the date trees—at first they had given no sign of motion, and I am certain there was no wind blowing—then, when they did move, it was in all directions. Their leaves swayed very gently—I thought I heard something, but I could not swear to it—yes, the trees swayed and came closer at every moment; suddenly they gripped one another with all their green fingers and embraced convulsively. Was it in wrath or in lust? For battle or for love? I know not. The gestures are much alike.
Beside the frog a vase of white porcelain was full of a colorless liquid in which was steeped a Pravoz syringe. A similar vase and syringe had been placed near the trees, but here the liquid was brown and curdling. I concluded that they were sap and blood.
The date trees had let go of each other, and my trembling hand advanced towards them. I could feel, under the soft warm bark pulse-beats that made it rise and fall with rhythmical cadence.
Since then I have said to myself that one may feel ones own pulse when feeling that of others, and I was doubtless feverish; but at the moment could I doubt my senses?... Besides, what follows in no wise impeaches my lucidity then; it would on the contrary plead in its favor. I do not know whether intensity of recollection in a doubtful case of hallucination is an argument for or against a morbid state; but at any rate I remember very intensely the picture of those monstrosities rising out of the medley of linen wrappings and bottles among the scattered instruments of steel.
Was there nothing more to see? I rummaged in the corners—no, nothing more. I had followed step by step my uncle’s work and in the rational order of their ascending scale.