at the heart. But without the body this movement would be unequal, irregular, impossible! Thus the body regulates the soul, and, like the balance-wheel, it is submitted to regular oscillations. And this is so true, that one falls ill when one's drink, food, sleep—in a word, the functions of the body—are not properly regulated! As in my watches, the soul renders to the body the force lost by its oscillations. Well, what produces this intimate union between soul and body, if not a marvelous escapement, by which the wheels of the one work into the wheels of the other? This is what I have divined, applied; and there are no longer any secrets for me in this life, which is, after all, but an ingenious mechanism!"
Master Zacharius was sublime to see in this hallucination, which transported him to the ultimate mysteries of the infinite. But his daughter Gerande, standing on the threshold of the door, had heard all. She rushed into her father's arms, and he pressed her convulsively to his breast.
"What is the matter with thee, my daughter?" he asked.
"If I had only a spring here," said she, putting her hand on her heart, "I would not love you as I do, my father."
Master Zacharius looked intently at Gerande, and did not reply. Suddenly he uttered a cry, carried his hand eagerly to his heart, and fell fainting on his old leathern chair.
"Father, what is the matter?"
"Help!" cried Aubert. "Scholastique!"
But Scholastique did not come at once. Someone was knocking at the front door; she had gone to open it, and when she returned to the shop, before she could open her mouth, the old watchmaker, having recovered his senses, spoke: "I divine, my old Scholastique, that you bring me still another of those accursed watches which have stopped."
"O Lord, it is true enough!" replied Scholastique, handing a watch to Aubert.
"My heart could not be mistaken!" said the old man, with a sigh.
Aubert carefully adjusted the watch, but it would not go.
