"I do!"

"You must never forget any of it. You must remember it all. Not the words, but the substance. You will remember?"

"I will remember!"

"Now I will take you back to your bed. When you have been there ten minutes, you will awaken!"

"I will awaken!"

"You will remember this place, but only as though you had seen it in a dream!"

"I will remember the dream!"

"Then you will immediately fall into a natural sleep!"

"I will fall into a natural sleep!"

"In the morning you will either remember nothing, or if anything only that you have had a dream!"

"Only a dream!"

"Now sleep! Sleep deeply!"

The Doctor pressed Leon's eyes with his thumbs, and when he released them the lids remained closed.

"You cannot open your eyes!"

"No! I cannot open my eyes!"

"Now you cannot speak!"

There was no reply. Dr. Medjora wrapped the sleeper in the robe and carried him upstairs, and back to his own room again. He placed him in his bed, and covered him carefully, as a mother would her babe.

Stooping over him he placed his lips close to Leon's ear and said:

"Can you hear me? If so, raise your arm," a feeble elevation of the arm was made in response. "Good, you hear! Remember! Awaken in ten minutes! Awaken from a dream! Then sleep again!"

The sleeper stirred slightly, and breathed a long sigh. Dr. Medjora leaned over him, and imprinted a kiss upon his forehead. Then he left the apartment, closing the door cautiously behind him, and sought his own room.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE FAITHFUL DOG.

On the following morning, when Leon entered the laboratory, he found Dr. Medjora busily engaged upon a chemical a.n.a.lysis. He, therefore, without interrupting him, went to his own table, and took up his morning's task. Half an hour pa.s.sed in silence, and then the Doctor spoke:

"Good-morning, Leon," said he. "I hope that the late hour at which you retired last night did not interfere with your rest?"

"On the contrary, Doctor," said Leon, "I slept very soundly; so soundly that I did not awaken as early as usual this morning. Yet I am puzzled by one thing."

"And that is----?"

"A dream. I have a distinct recollection of a dream, and yet I am sure that I slept soundly until the very moment of my awakening. I have always thought that dreams come only when one dozes, or is half awake.

Do you think that one might sleep soundly, and nevertheless dream?"

"It is a question much disputed. If you have done so, however, you have proven the possibility. Tell me your dream."

Thus adroitly did the Doctor avoid committing himself by a statement which would have lead to an argument, Leon's controversial instinct being a prominent characteristic.

"The dream was singular," replied Leon, "not so much because of what I dreamed, but rather because of the impression made upon my mind. As a rule, what one dreams is recalled as a dimly defined vision, but in this instance, I can see the temple of aesculapius as clearly as though I had really visited the place."

"Then in your dream you imagined that you saw that wonderful place?"

"Yes. There is nothing odd about that, because you told me that you would take me into the chamber to-night. I went to sleep with the desire to see the temple prominently present in my thoughts, and consequently, in my dream, that wish was gratified. But now I am anxious to verify my vision, to note how much resemblance there will be between the real and the imaginary. It would be very curious if I should be able to recognize the place!"

Leon looked away off into s.p.a.ce, as one gazes at nothing when deeply absorbed in the contemplation of some perplexing problem. The Doctor at once recognized the danger that presented. Leon's memory was more vivid than he had intended it to be. If taken into the crypt, in his present state of active inquiry into the phenomenon which his mind was considering, and if he really should become convinced that what he thought a dream was the exact counterpart of the real, it would not be improbable that his suspicion of the truth might be aroused. It was therefore essential that his mind should be led into a safer channel.

The Doctor undertook to do this.

"Leon," said he, "you are always interested in psychological phenomena, and therefore I will discuss this with you. The action of the mind is always an attractive study; attractive mainly because man cannot thoroughly unravel the mysteries surrounding the working of a human mind. Ordinarily, what one cannot comprehend and explain, is written down as a miracle. There are no miracles, except as the words may be used to describe that which mystifies. But the mystification pa.s.ses, as soon as the explanation is arrived at. Now it is manifestly impossible that you should dream of a place which you have never seen, and obtain an accurate mental image of it."

"I do not say that I have done so. I only wonder how much resemblance will exist between the dream and the chamber itself."

"True! But I should not be at all surprised, when I take you there, if you claim that it is the counterpart of your dream."

"Why do you think that, Doctor, when you have just said truly, that such a fact would be impossible?"

"It would be impossible that such a thing should be a fact, but it is not at all impossible that you should think it to be a fact. Let me explain myself more clearly. As I said before, one cannot produce in the mind an absolutely accurate image of a thing which he has never seen. But mental images may be created, not alone through the sense of sight, but also through the sense of hearing. Last night I told you the story of aesculapius. I described to you the _teocali_ which had been reared in his memory. I told you that at the very top a dome-like chamber was specially dedicated to aesculapius. I also explained to you that in the dome which I have discovered the walls are covered with hieroglyphical sculpturing. With such a description of the place, meagre as it is, you could readily construct a mental image, which would be sufficiently like the original for you to believe it identical. A dome is a dome, and, in regard to hieroglyphical figures, in the books in my library you have seen many pictures of those found on this continent."

"Still, Doctor, that would only enable me to create an image which would be similar. It could not be identical."

"No! It could not be identical. But suppose that you enter the crypt!

Instantly you look about you, and an image of the place is imprinted upon your brain. This is objectively produced. You compare it with the subjective image left by your dream, and you are astonished at the similarity. Note the word! You look around you again, and again an objective image is formed. Again you essay a comparison: but what happens now? As clearly fixed upon your brain as you believe your dream to be, it is but a shadowy impression compared to those which come to you when awake. So your subjective image of the place is readily displaced by that first objective impression, and when you compare the second, it is with this, and not with your dream at all.

As both are identical, you form the conclusion that your dream and the actuality are identical. So your first idea that they are similar pa.s.ses, and you adopt the erroneous belief that they are identical.

You have compared two objective impressions, where you believe that one was the subjective image of your dream. Thus you are deceived into believing that a miracle has occurred. And thus have all miracles been accepted as such; thus have all superst.i.tions been created, through the incorrect appreciation of events and their causes."

"I see what you mean, Doctor, and I recognize, now, how easy it is to fall into error. Few in this world have the a.n.a.lytical instinct possessed by yourself. Yet, I must confess, I am anxious for the test to-night. Now that you have warned me, I wish to see whether my first comparison will give me the idea that the two images are identical, or merely similar."

From this speech Dr. Medjora saw that the lad was not entirely convinced. He concluded therefore to risk a test, that would definitely settle the question.

"Leon," said he, "you are a good draughtsman. Draw for me a picture of any part of the hieroglyphical sculpture which is most distinct in your recollection!"

In this the Doctor depended upon the fact that Leon could have but an indistinct remembrance of the place itself, because, from the moment of his awakening in the crypt, his mind had been confused by the rapid series of surprises presented to his eyes. The revolving lamps, and the glare emitted by them, would have been sufficient to create such shadows, that the sculptured figures would have been distorted, the mind itself being too much occupied for more than a very cursory glance at the walls of the place. Leon, however, at once began to draw, and within a few minutes he handed the paper to the Doctor, who was pleased to find upon it a poor copy of some figures in _Kingsborough's Antiquities_. Thus the Doctor's speculation was vindicated, because as soon as Leon had endeavored to draw, he copied an image in his mind, made by a picture which he had had time to study closely, yet which in his thought replaced the indistinct impression obtained in the crypt.

"You are quite sure, Leon," asked the Doctor, "that this is a figure which you saw in your dream."

"Quite sure," answered Leon, promptly, "although, of course, there may be some slight inaccuracy in my draught of it."