..
"Of a serpent," concluded Sir Brian, smiling pathetically. "You are
indeed an enthusiast, M. Gaston, and to me a new type. I had supposed
that every slave of the drug cursed his servitude and loathed and
despised himself."...
"Ah, monsieur! to ME those words sound almost like a sacrilege!"
"But," continued Sir Brian, "your remarks interest me strangely; for two
reasons. First, they confirm your assertion that you are, or were, an
habitue of the Rue St. Claude, and secondly, they revive in my mind an
old fancy--a superstition."
"What is that, Sir Brian?" inquired M. Max, whose opium vision was a
faithful imitation of one related to him by an actual frequenter of the
establishment near the Boulevard Beaumarchais.
"Only once before, M. Gaston, have I compared notes with a fellow
opium-smoker, and he, also, was a patron of Madame Jean; he, also, met
in his dreams that Eastern Circe, in the grove of apes, just as I"...
"Morbleu! Yes?"
"As I meet her!"
"But this is astounding!" cried Max, who actually thought it so. "Your
fancy--your superstition--was this: that only habitues of Rue St.
Claude met, in poppyland, this vision? And in your fancy you are now
confirmed?"
"It is singular, at least."
"It is more than that, Sir Brian! Can it be that some intelligence
presides over that establishment and exercises--shall I call it a
hypnotic influence upon the inmates?"
M.
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