436 THE LIFE OF PASTEUR 



his friends " thought that it was in the interest both of 

 science and of humanity to state once more the facts recently 

 confirmed by new statistics ; the public is so impressionable and 

 so mobile in its opinions that one article is often enough to shake 

 general confidence. He was therefore anxious to reassure all 

 those who had been inoculated on and who might be induced 

 by those discussions to wonder with anguish whether they 

 really were saved. The Academy of Sciences decided that 

 Vulpian's statement should be inserted in extenso in all the 

 reports and a copy of it sent to every village in France. 

 Vulpian wrote to Pasteur at the same time, " All your admirers 

 hope that those interested attacks will merely excite your con- 

 tempt. Fine weather is no doubt reigning at Bordighera : you 

 must take advantage of it and become quite well. . . . The 

 Academy of Medicine is almost entirely on your side ; there are 

 at the most but four or five exceptions." 



Pasteur had a few calm days after these debates. Whilst 

 planning out new investigations, he was much interested in the 

 plans for his Institute which were now submitted to him. His 

 thoughts were always away from Bordighera, which he seemed 

 to look upon as a sort of exile. This impression was partly due 

 to the situation of the town, so close to the frontier, and the 

 haunt of so many homeless wanderers. He once met a sad- 

 faced, still beautiful woman, in mourning robes, and recognized 

 the Empress Eugenie. . 



Shortly afterwards, he received a visit from Prince Napoleon, 

 who dragged his haughty ennui from town to town. He pre- 

 sented himself at the Villa Bischoffsheim under the name of 

 Count Moncalieri, coming, he said, to greet his colleague of the 

 Institute. Eabies formed the subject of their conversation. 

 The next day, Pasteur called on the Prince, in his common- 

 place hotel rooms, a mere temporary resting place for the exiled 

 Bonaparte, whose mysterious, uncompleted destiny was made 

 more enigmatical by his startling resemblance to the great 

 Emperor. 



On February 23, the day after the carnival, early in the 

 morning, a violent earthquake cast terror over that peaceful land 

 where nature hides with flowers the spectre of death. At 6.20 

 a.m. a low and distant rumbling sound was heard, coming from 

 the depths of the earth and resembling the noise of a train pass- 

 ing in an underground tunnel; houses began to rock and 



