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"What about this mysterious light on Mars. Have you seen anything of it?" Gazen laughed. "I have not," said he, "though I did look the other night." "You believe that something of the kind has been seen?" "Oh, certainly. The Nice Observatory, of which Monsieur Perrotin is director, has one of the finest telescopes in existence, and Monsieur Javelle is well-known for his careful work."
"Here, take some of this," said the concierge as she emptied into the water that Gervaise was using the remains of a package of bicarbonate of soda. She offered her also some eau de Javelle, but the young woman refused. It was only good, she said, for grease spots and wine stains. "I thought him somewhat dissipated," said Mme Boche, referring to Lantier without naming him.
Boiling milk is sometimes applied successfully to wine stains in the same way. A thick layer of salt rubbed into the stained portion and followed with the boiling-water treatment is also effective. When nothing else avails, immerse the stained portion in a weak solution of Javelle water one half cup to one pail of boiling water allow it to soak a few minutes, and then rinse thoroughly.
I had already, and without result, examined the contents of several boxes, when in the package marked 1852, a year which my father spent in Paris, certain letters attracted my attention. They were written upon coarse paper, in a very primitive handwriting and wretchedly spelt. They were signed sometimes Phrasie, sometimes Marquise de Javelle.
I was glad when she finished saying naughty words about herself, and declaring that "Madame was right not to upset her house," and that the next time the Boches thought of coming here they would be welcome to anything she had. "For," she ended, "I'll never get myself into this sort of a mess again, my word of honor!" And she marched out of the house, carrying the bottle of eau de Javelle with her.
He confesses that he is not a poor clerk, but the Marquis de Tregars, having an income of over a hundred thousand francs. At once the tone of the correspondence changes. The Marquise de Javelle has a stupid time where she lives; the neighbors reproach her with her fault; work spoils her pretty hands.
"It can't be the light Javelle saw," ejaculated Gazen at length. "That was on Hellas Land." "Should the Martians be signalling they would probably use a system of lights. I daresay they possess an electric telegraph to work it." The professor put his eye to the glass again, and I awaited the result of his observation with eager interest. "It's as steady as possible," said he.
It was an immense shed, as it were, with a low ceiling the beams and rafters unconcealed and lighted by large windows, through which the daylight streamed. A light gray mist or steam pervaded the room, which was filled with a smell of soapsuds and eau de Javelle combined.
And not in vain; for, after a week of investigations he brought me a nurse, residing Rue de l'Universite, who remembered perfectly having once attended, on the occasion of her confinement, a remarkably pretty young woman, living in the Rue des Bergers, and nicknamed the Marquise de Javelle.
Emile Javelle is not far away. Javelle climbed as by a religious impulse; his imagination was filled by Alpine shapes; he, like Ruskin, had forfeited his heart to the invisible snow-maiden that dwells above the clouds. When Javelle was a child his uncle showed him a collection of plants, and amongst them the "Androsace ... rochers du Mont Blanc."
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