The Story Of The Duchess Of Cicogne And Of Monsieur De Boulingrin 第2章

CHAPTER II

 ANXIOUSLY the King and Queen consulted, in respect of the decree pronounced upon the Princess in her cradle, all persons of learning and judgment, notably Monsieur Gerberoy, perpetual secretary of the Academy of Sciences, and Dr. Gastinel, the Queen’s accoucheur. “Monsieur Gerberoy,” Satine inquired, “can one really sleep a hundred years?” “Madame,” answered the Academician, “we have examples of sleep, more or less prolonged, some of which I can relate to Your Majesty. Epimenides of Cnossos was born of the loves of a mortal and a nymph. While yet a child he was sent by Dosiades, his father, to watch the flocks in the mountains. When the warmth of midday enveloped the earth, he laid himself down in a cool, dark cave, and there he fell into a slumber which lasted for fifty-seven years. He studied the virtues of the plants, and died, according to some, at the age of a hundred and fifty-four years; according to others at the age of two hundred and ninety-eight.
“The story of the seven sleepers of Ephesus is related by Theodore and Rufinus, in a manuscript sealed with two silver seals. Briefly expounded, these are the principal facts. In the year 25 of our Lord, seven of the officers of the Emperor Decius, who had embraced the Christian religion, distributed their goods to the poor, retired to Mount Celion, and there all seven fell asleep in a cave. During the reign of Theodore the Bishop of Ephesus found them there, blooming like roses. They had slept for one hundred and forty-four years.
“Frederick Barbarossa is still asleep. In the crypt beneath a ruined castle, in the midst of a dense forest, he is seated before a table round which his beard has twisted seven times. He will awake to drive away the crows which croak around the mountain.
“These, madame, are the greatest sleepers of whom History has kept a record.”
“They are all exceptions,” answered the Queen. “You, Monsieur Gastinel, who practise medicine, have you ever seen people sleep a hundred years?”
“No, madame,” replied the accoucheur, “I have not exactly seen any such, nor do I ever expect to do so; but I have seen some curious cases of lethargy, which, if you desire, I will bring to Your Majesty’s notice.
“Ten years ago a demoiselle Jeanne Caillou, being admitted to the H?tel-Dieu, there slept for six consecutive years. I myself observed the girl Léonide Montauciel, who fell asleep on Easter Day in the year ‘61, and did not awake until Easter Day of the following year.”
“Monsieur Gastinel,” demanded the King, “can the point of a spindle cause a wound which will send one to sleep for a hundred years?”
“Sire, it is not probable,” answered Monsieur Gastinel, “but in the domain of pathology, we can never say with certainty, ‘This will or will not happen.’”
“One might mention Brunhild,” said Monsieur Gerberoy, “who was pricked by a thorn, fell asleep, and was awakened by Sigurd.”
“There was also Guenillon,” said the Duchess of Cicogne, first lady-in-waiting to the Queen. And she hummed:
     She was sent to the wood
     To gather some nuts,
     The bush was too high,
     The maid was too small.
 
     The bush was too high,
     The maid was too small,
     She pricked her poor hand
     With a very sharp thorn.
 
     She pricked her poor hand
     With a very sharp thorn,
     From the pain in her finger
     The maid fell asleep.
“What are you thinking of, Cicogne?” said the Queen. “You are singing.”
“Your Majesty will forgive me,” replied the Duchess. “It was to ward off the bad luck.”
The King issued an edict, whereby all persons were forbidden under pain of death to spin with spindles, or even to have spindles in their possession. All obeyed. They still used to say in the country districts: “The spindles must follow the mattock,” but it was only by force of habit. The spindles had disappeared.


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