ier than
ever.

"Then you have not heard his story?" said he. "My poor nephew was to be
married to the richest heiress in Blois; but the day before his wedding
he went mad."

"Lambert! Mad!" cried I in dismay. "But from what cause? He had the
finest memory, the most strongly-constituted brain, the soundest
judgment, I ever met with. Really a great genius--with too great a
passion for mysticism perhaps; but the kindest heart in the world.
Something most extraordinary must have happened?"

"I see you knew him well," said the priest.

From Mer, till we reached Blois, we talked only of my poor friend, with
long digressions, by which I learned the facts I have already related in
the order of their interest. I confessed to his uncle the character of
our studies and of his nephew's predominant ideas; then the old man told
me of the events that had come into Lambert's life since our parting.
From Monsieur Lefebvre's account, Lambert had betrayed some symptoms of
madness before his marriage; but they were such as are common to men
who love passionately, and seemed to me less startling when I knew how
vehement his love had been and when I saw Mademoiselle de Villenoix.
In the country, where ideas are scarce, a man overflowing with original
thought and devoted to a system, as Louis was, might well be regarded
as eccentric, to say the least. His language would, no doubt, seem the
stranger because he so rarely spoke. He would say, "That man does not
dwell in heaven," where any one else would have said, "We are not made
on the same pattern." Every clever man has his own quirks of speech.
The broader his genius, the more conspicuous are the singularities
which constitute the various degrees of eccentricity. In the country an
eccentric man is at once set down as half mad.

Hence Monsieur Lefebvre's first sentences left me doubtful of my
schoolmate's insanity. I listened to the old man, but I criticised his
statements.

The most serious symptom had supervened a day or two before the
marriage. Louis had had some well-marked attacks of catalepsy. He had
once remained motionless for fifty-nine hours, his eyes staring, neither
speaking nor eating; a purely nervous affection, to which persons
under the influence of violent passion are liable; a rare malady,
but perfectly well known to the medical faculty. What was really
extraordinary was that Louis should not have had several previous
attacks, since his habits of rapt thought and th