'
"I stared at the body, and they all stared at me.
"He _had_ moved a finger. When I first saw him, his fingers were all
close together; but now the little finger was quite away from the third
finger--the one with the ring on.
"I felt his heart, and found a little warmth about it, but no perceptible
pulse. I ordered them to take off his sheet and put on blankets, but not
to touch him till I came back with a learned physician. The wife embraced
me, all trembling, and promised obedience. I got a _fiacre_ and drove to
Dr. Brasseur, who was my hostile professor, but very able. I burst on
him, and told him I had a case of catalepsy for him--it wasn't catalepsy,
you know, but physicians are fond of Greek; they prefer the wrong Greek
word to the right English. So I called it 'catalepsy,' and said I
believed they were going to bury a live man. He shrugged his shoulders,
and said that was one of the customs of the country. He would come in an
hour. I told him that would not do, the man would be in his coffin; he
must come directly. He smiled at my impetuosity, and yielded.
"I got him to the patient. He examined him, and said he might be alive,
but feared the last spark was going out.
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