rain, transmitted by the nerves. The brain acts under the impulse of
the heart, transmitted by the arteries. The whole forms a perfectly
exact circle, without which there is no well-being. And when neither
heart nor brain acts, as in the Colonel's case, I don't see which of the
two can set the other in motion. You remember the scene in the '_Ecole
des femmes_,' where Arnolphe knocks at his door? The valet and the maid,
Alain and Georgette, are both in the house. 'Georgette!' cries
Alain.--'Well?' replies Georgette.--'Open the door down there!'--'Go
yourself! Go yourself!'--'Gracious me! I shan't go!'--'I shan't go
either!'--'Open it right away!'--'Open it yourself!' And nobody opens
it. I am inclined to think, Monsieur, that we are attending a
performance of this comedy. The house is the body of the Colonel;
Arnolphe, who wants to get in, is the Vital Principle. The heart and
brain act the parts of Alain and Georgette. 'Open the door!' says
one.--'Open it yourself!' says the other. And the Vital Principle waits
outside."

"Monsieur," replied Doctor Nibor smiling, "you forget the ending of the
scene. Arnolphe gets angry, and cries out: 'Whichever of you two doesn't
open the door, shan't have anything to eat for four days!' And forthwith
Alain hurries himself, Georgette runs and the door is opened. Now bear
in mind that I speak in this way only in order to conform to your own
course of reasoning, for the term 'Vital Principle' is at variance with
the actual assertions of science. Life will manifest itself as soon as
the brain, or the heart, or any one of the organs which have the
capacity of working spontaneously, shall have absorbed the quantity of
water it needs. Organized matter has inherent properties which manifest
themselves without the assistance of any foreign principle, whenever
they are surrounded by certain conditions. Why do not M. Fougas' muscles
contract yet? Why does not the tissue of the brain enter into action?
Because they have not yet the amount of moisture necessary to them. In
the fountain of life there is lacking, perhaps, a pint of water. But I
shall be in no hurry to refill it: I am too much afraid of breaking it.
Before giving this gallant fellow a final bath, it will be necessary to
knead all his organs again, to subject his abdomen to regular
compressions, in order that the serous membranes of the stomach, chest
and heart may be perfectly disagglutinated and capable of slipping on
each other. Yo