y, as you please; and then there is a human
being killed according to all the rules of art and skill, and of
whom justice learns nothing, as was said by a terrible chemist of my
acquaintance, the worthy Abbe Adelmonte of Taormina, in Sicily, who has
studied these national phenomena very profoundly."

"It is quite frightful, but deeply interesting," said the young lady,
motionless with attention. "I thought, I must confess, that these tales,
were inventions of the Middle Ages."

"Yes, no doubt, but improved upon by ours. What is the use of time,
rewards of merit, medals, crosses, Monthyon prizes, if they do not lead
society towards more complete perfection? Yet man will never be perfect
until he learns to create and destroy; he does know how to destroy, and
that is half the battle."

"So," added Madame de Villefort, constantly returning to her object,
"the poisons of the Borgias, the Medicis, the Renes, the Ruggieris,
and later, probably, that of Baron de Trenck, whose story has been so
misused by modern drama and romance"--

"Were objects of art, madame, and nothing more," replied the count. "Do
you suppose that the real savant addresses himself stupidly to the mere
individual? By no means. Science loves eccentricities, leaps and bounds,
trials of strength, fancies, if I may be allowed so to term them. Thus,
for instance, the excellent Abbe Adelmonte, of whom I spoke just now,
made in this way some marvellous experiments."

"Really?"

"Yes; I will mention one to you. He had a remarkably fine garden, full
of vegetables, flowers, and fruit. From amongst these vegetables he
selected the most simple--a cabbage, for instance. For three days he
watered this cabbage with a distillation of arsenic; on the third, the
cabbage began to droop and turn yellow. At that moment he cut it. In the
eyes of everybody it seemed fit for table, and preserved its wholesome
appearance. It was only poisoned to the Abbe Adelmonte. He then took the
cabbage to the room where he had rabbits--for the Abbe Adelmonte had
a collection of rabbits, cats, and guinea-pigs, fully as fine as his
collection of vegetables, flowers, and fruit. Well, the Abbe Adelmonte
took a rabbit, and made it eat a leaf of the cabbage. The rabbit died.
What magistrate would find, or even venture to insinuate, anything
against this? What procureur has ever ventured to draw up an accusation
against M. Magendie or M. Flourens, in consequence of the rabbits, cats,
and guine