He began to prepare some Vienna paste, but in a slow, dawdling manner that irritated my nerves to the last degree. I snatched the cup from his hand and stirred the caustic myself.
“How many centuries have admired Socrates,” I remarked, “for his theatrical pretence of drinking the hemlock voluntarily. In future ages men will remember with greater admiration how I, with my own hand, prepared the instrument of my death. Do not forget to mention this circumstance in your notes, and add that my hand did not tremble.”
I gave the caustic to Guy; but at the same moment the door opened behind us, and he sprang forward with a sudden cry, dashing the cup in pieces on the floor. I turned in angry surprise at the interruption, and saw two men standing in the room. They were perfect strangers to me, but came forward immediately and saluted me with the friendly courtesy of old acquaintance. I even fancied that I detected an intolerable softness in their manner, such as physicians sometimes assume in speaking to sick people. One of the intruders took my passive hand in his, and shook it with unnecessary cordiality, contriving, I think, at the same time to slip his fingers on my wrist, just over the pulse.
My instinct was decidedly in favor of kicking these impertinent fellows down stairs. But so strong is the influence of civilized habit, that I restrained myself to a freezing politeness, inquiring to what I might be indebted for the honor, etc.
“These gentlemen are friends of mine,” interposed Guy, who had stooped on the floor to pick up the broken fragments of the cup, and who did not look at me as he spoke. “They are amateurs in our science, and would be much interested in examining the laboratory that we have installed here. But since they have taken a long journey, and must be hungry, I think we had better first order the déjeuner.”
“The devil!” I muttered inwardly. But at the same moment I reflected that these visitors with their congenial tastes might serve opportunity as witnesses to the experiment—even be useful in correcting any possible awkwardness in Guy’s manipulation. I therefore addressed them in a tone of cordial hospitality.
“We are at this moment engaged in some researches,” I said, “that cannot fail to interest you, and where, perhaps, you may be of signal service, if you will consent to stay with us awhile and put up with our modest accommodations.”
“You honor our poor abilities,” returned the first stranger, with a bland smile. “We shall be most happy to accept your amiable invitation.”
So we four sat down to the déjeuner, in the most cheerful possible humor. The black stain that burned on my breast stimulated me to a secret exultation; I felt a secret pride in anticipating the wonder of these men, when they should hereafter recall the gayety of my demeanor on this occasion. They, on the other hand, seconded me bravely in the conversation. Not for years had I met with companions so brilliant, witty, and sympathetic. They listened to me with the closest attention, and seemed to find a peculiar charm in the freaks of my fancy, to which, for the moment, I gave the rein.