“Perhaps you are astonished that at such a distance I saw the face clearly enough to recognize it after five months, as if it were still before me.”

“It is extraordinary.”

“Not to those who have a memory for faces and attitudes; with me this memory has always been strongly developed.  I remember the playmates of my childhood, and I see them as they were at six and ten years of age, without the slightest confusion in my mind.”

“The impressions of childhood are generally vivid and permanent.”

“This persistency does not only apply to my childish impressions.  Today, I neither forget nor confound a physiognomy.  Perhaps if I had had many acquaintances, and if I had seen a number of persons every day, there might be some confusion in my mind; but such is not the case.  My delicate health has obliged me to lead a very quiet life, and I remember every one whom I have met.  When I think of such a one, it is not of the name at first, but of the physiognomy.  Each time that I have been to the Senate or to the Chamber, I did not need to ask the names of the deputies or senators who spoke; I had seen their portraits and I recognized them.  If I go into these details it is because they are of great importance, as you will see.”

It was not necessary for her to point out their importance; he understood her only too well.

“In fine, I am thus,” she continued.  “It is, therefore, not astonishing that the physiognomy and the attitude of the man who drew the curtains in Monsieur Caffie’s office should not leave my memory.  You admit this, do you not?”

“Since you consult me, I must tell you that the operations of the memory are not so simple as people imagine.  They comprise three things:  the conservation of certain states, their reproduction and localization in the past, which should be reunited to constitute the perfect memory.  Now this reunion does not always take place, and often the third is lacking.”

“I do not grasp your meaning very well.  But what is the third thing?”

“Recognition.”

“Well, I can assure you that in this case it is not lacking!”

The action beginning in this way, it was of the utmost importance for Saniel that he should throw doubts in Madame Dammauville’s mind, and should make her think that this memory of which she felt so sure was not, perhaps, as strong or as perfect as she imagined.

“It is,” he said, “exactly this third thing that is the most delicate, the most complex of the three, since it supposes, besides the state of consciousness, some secondary states, variable in number and in degree, which, grouped around it, determine it.”

Madame Dammauville remained silent a moment, and Saniel saw that she made an effort to explain these obscure words to herself.

“I do not understand,” she said at last.

This was exactly what he wished; yet, as it would not be wise to let her believe that he desired to deceive or confuse her, he thought he might be a little more precise.