The Martian: A Novel. Du Maurier George

first magnitude.

      His sense of hearing was also exceptionally keen. He could hear a watch tick in the next room, and perceive very high sounds to which ordinary human ears are deaf (this was found out later); and when we played blind‐man's‐buff on a rainy day, he could, blindfolded, tell every boy he caught hold of – not by feeling him all over like the rest of us, but by the mere smell of his hair, or his hands, or his blouse! No wonder he was so much more alive than the rest of us! According to the amiable, modest, polite, delicately humorous, and even tolerant and considerate Professor Max Nordau, this perfection of the olfactory sense proclaims poor Barty a degenerate! I only wish there were a few more like him, and that I were a little more like him myself!

      By‐the‐way, how proud young Germany must feel of its enlightened Max, and how fond of him, to be sure! Mes compliments!

      But the most astounding thing of all (it seems incredible, but all the world knows it by this time, and it will be accounted for later on) is that at certain times and seasons Barty knew by an infallible instinct where the north was, to a point. Most of my readers will remember his extraordinary evidence as a witness in the "Rangoon" trial, and how this power was tested in open court, and how important were the issues involved, and how he refused to give any explanation of a gift so extraordinary.

      It was often tried at school by blindfolding him, and turning him round and round till he was giddy, and asking him to point out where the north pole was, or the north star, and seven or eight times out of ten the answer was unerringly right. When he failed, he knew beforehand that for the time being he had lost the power, but could never say why. Little Doctor Larcher could never get over his surprise at this strange phenomenon, nor explain it, and often brought some scientific friend from Paris to test it, who was equally nonplussed.

      When cross‐examined, Barty would merely say: "Quelquefois je sais – quelquefois je ne sais pas – mais quand je sais, je sais, et il n'y a pas à s'y tromper!"

      Indeed, on one occasion that I remember well, a very strange thing happened; he not only pointed out the north with absolute accuracy, as he stood carefully blindfolded in the gymnastic ground, after having been turned and twisted again and again – but, still blindfolded, he vaulted the wire fence and ran round to the refectory door which served as the home at rounders, all of us following; and there he danced a surprising dance of his own invention, that he called "La Paladine," the most humorously graceful and grotesque exhibition I ever saw; and then, taking a ball out of his pocket, he shouted: "À l'amandier!" and threw the ball. Straight and swift it flew, and hit the almond‐tree, which was quite twenty yards off; and after this he ran round the yard from base to base, as at "la balle au camp," till he reached the camp again.

      "If ever he goes blind," said the wondering M. Mérovée, "he'll never need a dog to lead him about."

      "He must have some special friend above!" said Madame Germain (Méroveé's sister, who was looking on).

      Prophetic words! I have never forgotten them, nor the tear that glistened in each of her kind eyes as she spoke. She was a deeply religious and very emotional person, and loved Barty almost as if he were a child of her own.

      Such women have strange intuitions.

      Barty was often asked to repeat this astonishing performance before sceptical people – parents of boys, visitors, etc. – who had been told of it, and who believed he could not have been properly blindfolded; but he could never be induced to do so.

      There was no mistake about the blindfolding – I helped in it myself; and he afterwards told me the whole thing was "aussi simple que bonjour" if once he felt the north – for then, with his back to the refectory door, he knew exactly the position and distance of every tree from where he was.

      "It's all nonsense about my going blind and being able to do without a dog" – he added; "I should be just as helpless as any other blind man, unless I was in a place I knew as well as my own pocket – like this play‐ground! Besides, I sha'n't go blind; nothing will ever happen to my eyes – they're the strongest and best in the whole school!"

      He said this exultingly, dilating his nostrils and chest; and looked proudly up and around, like Ajax defying the lightning.

      "But what do you feel when you feel the north, Barty – a kind of tingling?" I asked.

      "Oh – I feel where it is – as if I'd got a mariner's compass trembling inside my stomach – and as if I wasn't afraid of anybody or anything in the world – as if I could go and have my head chopped off and not care a fig."

      "Ah, well – I can't make it out – I give it up," I exclaimed.

      "So do I," exclaims Barty.

      "But tell me, Barty," I whispered, "have you – have you really got a – a —special friend above?"

      "Ask no questions and you'll get no lies," said Barty, and winked at me one eye after the other – and went about his business. And I about mine.

      Thus it is hardly to be wondered at that the spirit of this extraordinary boy seemed to pervade the Pension F. Brossard, almost from the day he came to the day he left it – a slender stripling over six feet high, beautiful as Apollo but, alas! without his degree, and not an incipient hair on his lip or chin!

      Of course the boy had his faults. He had a tremendous appetite, and was rather greedy – so was I, for that matter – and we were good customers to la mère Jaurion; especially he, for he always had lots of pocket‐money, and was fond of standing treat all round. Yet, strange to say, he had such a loathing of meat that soon by special favoritism a separate dish of eggs and milk and succulent vegetables was cooked expressly for him – a savory mess that made all our mouths water merely to see and smell it, and filled us with envy, it was so good. Aglaé the cook took care of that!

      "C'était pour Monsieur Josselin!"

      And of this he would eat as much as three ordinary boys could eat of anything in the world.

      Then he was quick‐tempered and impulsive, and in frequent fights – in which he generally came off second best; for he was fond of fighting with bigger boys than himself. Victor or vanquished, he never bore malice – nor woke it in others, which is worse. But he would slap a face almost as soon as look at it, on rather slight provocation, I'm afraid – especially if it were an inch or two higher up than his own. And he was fond of showing off, and always wanted to throw farther and jump higher and run faster than any one else. Not, indeed, that he ever wished to mentally excel, or particularly admired those who did!

      Also, he was apt to judge folk too much by their mere outward appearance and manner, and not very fond of dull, ugly, commonplace people – the very people, unfortunately, who were fondest of him; he really detested them, almost as much as they detest each other, in spite of many sterling qualities of the heart and head they sometimes possess. And yet he was their victim through life – for he was very soft, and never had the heart to snub the deadliest bores he ever writhed under, even undeserving ones! Like – , or – , or the Bishop of – , or Lord Justice – , or General – , or Admiral – , or the Duke of – , etc., etc.

      And he very unjustly disliked people of the bourgeois type – the respectable middle class, quorum pars magna fui! Especially if we were very well off and successful, and thought ourselves of some consequence (as we now very often are, I beg to say), and showed it (as, I'm afraid, we sometimes do). He preferred the commonest artisan to M. Jourdain, the bourgeois gentilhomme, who was a very decent fellow, after all, and at least clean in his habits, and didn't use bad language or beat his wife!

      Poor dear Barty! what would have become of all those priceless copyrights and royalties and what not if his old school‐fellow hadn't been a man of business? And where would Barty himself have been without his wife, who came from that very class?

      And his admiration for an extremely good‐looking person, even of his own sex, even a scavenger or a dustman, was almost snobbish. It was like a well‐bred, well‐educated Englishman's frank fondness for a noble lord.

      And next to physical beauty he admired great physical strength; and I sometimes think that it is to my possession of this single gift I owe some