ed through the neighbourhood at random, the
direction of the old road not being easy to discover.

Marcel went jumping from right to left, like a spaniel running at
field-sports. Bouvard was compelled to call him back every five minutes.
Pecuchet advanced step by step, holding the rod by the two branches,
with the point upwards. Often it seemed to him that a force and, as it
were, a cramp-iron drew it towards the ground; and Marcel very rapidly
made a notch in the neighbouring trees, in order to find the place
later.

Pecuchet, however, slackened his pace. His mouth was open; the pupils of
his eyes were contracted. Bouvard questioned him, caught hold of his
shoulders, and shook him. He did not stir, and remained inert, exactly
like La Barbee. Then he said he felt around his heart a kind of
compression, a singular experience, arising from the rod, no doubt, and
he no longer wished to touch it.

They returned next day to the place where the marks had been made on the
trees. Marcel dug holes with a spade; nothing, however, came of it, and
each time they felt exceedingly sheepish. Pecuchet sat down by the side
of a ditch, and while he mused, with his head raised, striving to hear
the voices of the spirits through his astral body, asking himself
whether he even had one, he fixed his eyes on the peak of his cap; the
ecstasy of the previous day once more took possession of him. It lasted
a long time, and became dreadful.

Above some oats in a by-path appeared a felt hat: it was that of M.
Vaucorbeil on his mare.

Bouvard and Marcel called out to him.

The crisis was drawing to an end when the physician arrived. In order to
examine Pecuchet he lifted his cap, and perceiving a forehead covered
with coppery marks:

"Ha! ha! _Fructus belli!_ Those are love-spots, my fine fellow! Take
care of yourself. The deuce! let us not trifle with love."

Pecuchet, ashamed, again put on his cap, a sort of head-piece that
swelled over a peak shaped like a half-moon, the model of which he had
taken from the Atlas of Amoros.

The doctor's words astounded him. He kept thinking of them with his eyes
staring before him, and suddenly had another seizure.

Vaucorbeil watched him, then, with a fillip, knocked off his cap.

Pecuchet recovered his faculties.

"I suspected as much," said the physician; "the glazed peak hypnotises
you like a mirror; and this phenomenon is not rare with persons who look
at a shining substance too attentively.