The religious admiration with which Popinot listened to the father of Cesarine stimulated Birotteau's eloquence, who allowed himself to expatiate in phrases which certainly were extremely wild for a bourgeois.
"Be respectful, Anselme," he said, as they reached the street where Monsieur Vauquelin lived, "we are about to enter the sanctuary of science. Put the Virgin in full sight, but not ostentatiously, in the dining-room, on a chair. Pray heaven, I may not get mixed up in what I
have to say!" cried Cesar, naively. "Popinot, this man has a chemical effect upon me; his voice heats my stomach, and even gives me a slight colic. He is my benefactor, and in a few moments he will be yours."
These words struck Popinot with a cold chill, and he began to step as if he were walking on eggs, looking nervously at the wall. Monsieur Vauquelin was in his study when Birotteau was announced. The academician knew that the perfumer and deputy-mayor was high in favor, and he admitted him.
"You do not forget me in the midst of your distinctions," he said, "there is only a hand's-breadth, however, between a chemist and a perfumer."
"Ah, monsieur! between your genius and the plainness of a man like me there is infinity. I owe to you what you call my distinctions: I shall never forget it in this world, nor in the next."
"Oh! in the next they say we shall be all alike, kings and cobblers."
"Provided kings and cobblers lead a holy life here below," said Birotteau.
"Is that your son?" asked Vauquelin, looking at little Popinot, who was amazed at not seeing anything extraordinary in the sanctum, where he expected to find monstrosities, gigantic engines, flying-machines, and material substances all alive.
"No, monsieur, but a young man whom I love, and who comes to ask a kindness equal to your genius,--and that is infinite," said Cesar with shrewd courtesy. "We have come to consult you, a second time, on an important matter, about which I am ignorant as a perfumer can be."
"Let me hear what it is."
"I know that hair has lately occupied all your vigils, and that you have given yourself up to analyzing it; while you have thought of glory, I have thought of commerce."
"Dear Monsieur Birotteau, what is it you want of me,--the analysis of hair?" He took up a little paper. "I am about to read before the Academy of Sciences a monograph on that subject. Hair is composed of a rather large quantity of mucus, a small quantity of white oil, a great deal of greenish oil, iron, a few atoms of oxide of manganese, some phosphate of lime, a tiny quantity of carbonate of lime, a little silica, and a good deal of sulphur. The differing proportions of these component parts cause the differences in the color of the hair. Red hair, for instance, has more greenish oil than any other."
Cesar and Popinot opened their eyes to a laughable extent.
"Nine things!" cried Birotteau. "What! are there metals and oils in hair? Unless I heard it from you, a man I venerate, I could not believe it. How amazing! God is great, Monsieur Vauquelin."
"Hair is produced by a follicular organ," resumed the great chemist,--
"a species of pocket, or sack, open at both extremities. By one end it is fastened to the nerves and the blood vessels; from the other springs the hair itself. According to some of our scientific brotherhood, among them Monsieur Blainville, the hair is really a dead matter expelled from that pouch, or crypt, which is filled with a species of pulp."
"Then hair is what you might call threads of sweat!" cried Popinot, to whom Cesar promptly administered a little kick on his heels.
Vauquelin smiled at Popinot's idea.
"He knows something, doesn't he?" said Cesar, looking at Popinot.
"But, monsieur, if the hair is still-born, it is impossible to give it life, and I am lost! my prospectus will be ridiculous. You don't know how queer the public is; you can't go and tell it--"
"That it has got manure upon its head," said Popinot, wishing to make Vauquelin laugh again.
"Cephalic catacombs," said Vauquelin, continuing the joke.
"My nuts are bought!" cried Birotteau, alive to the commercial loss.
"If this is so why do they sell--"
"Don't be frightened," said Vauquelin, smiling, "I see it is a question of some secret about making the hair grow or keeping it from turning gray. Listen! this is my opinion on the subject, as the result of my studies."
Here Popinot pricked up his ears like a frightened hare.
"The discoloration of this substance, be it living or dead, is, in my judgment, produced by a check to the secretion of the coloring matter;
which explains why in certain cold climates the fur of animals loses all color and turns white in winter."
"Hein! Popinot."
"It is evident," resumed Vauquelin, "that alterations in the color of the hair come from changes in the circumjacent atmosphere--"
"Circumjacent, Popinot! recollect, hold fast to that," cried Cesar.
"Yes," said Vauquelin, "from hot and cold changes, or from internal phenomena which produce the same effect. Probably headaches and other cephalagic affections absorb, dissipate, or displace the generating fluids. However, the interior of the head concerns physicians. As for the exterior, bring on your cosmetics."
"Monsieur," said Birotteau, "you restore me to life! I have thought of selling an oil of nuts, believing that the ancients made use of that oil for their hair; and the ancients are the ancients, as you know: I
agree with Boileau. Why did the gladiators oil themselves--"
"Olive oil is quite as good as nut oil," said Vauquelin, who was not listening to Birotteau. "All oil is good to preserve the bulb from receiving injury to the substances working within it, or, as we should say in chemistry, in liquefaction. Perhaps you are right; Dupuytren told me the oil of nuts had a stimulating property. I will look into the differences between the various oils, beech-nut, colza, olive, and hazel, etc."
