Pourquoipas
— I —
THE TALKING HORSE
“But, madame, I do not understand you!”
“It is a mystery!”
“A mystery!” Mr. Fletcher felt that the word inadequately described the situation. “Do you mean to say I hardly know whether to take you seriously that you have been having a conversation with a horse?”
“That is to say, with my husband – with Ernest.”
“I thought you said that he was dead?”
“It is certain. Did I not see him die? I will show you the bed upon which we laid him out. Did I not shed upon his corpse my tears? What would you have?”
“Then how about the conversation?”
“It is metempsychosis.”
Mr. Fletcher began to be amused.
“Metempsychosis?”
“It is a theory of which I know but little. Is it an article of faith with which monsieur is acquainted?”
“Not much personally.”
“I? I
