It is probable that if the frogs and dogs were consulted, they would offer some objection; but Doctor Ox imagined that he had stated an unanswerable argument, for he heaved a great sigh of satisfaction.
"After all, master, you are right," replied Ygene, as if quite convinced. "We could not have hit upon better subjects than these people of Quiquendone for our experiment."
"We—could—not," said the doctor, slowly articulating each word.
"Have you felt the pulse of any of them?"
"Some hundreds."
"And what is the average pulsation you found?"
"Not fifty per minute. See—this is a town where there has not been the shadow of a discussion for a century, where the carmen don't swear, where the coachmen don't insult each other, where horses don't run away, where the dogs don't bite, where the cats don't scratch,—a town where the police-court has nothing to do from one year's end to another,—a town where people do not grow enthusiastic about anything, neither about art or business—a town where the gendarmes are a sort of myth, and in which an indictment has not been drawn up for a hundred years,—a town, in short, where for three centuries nobody has struck a blow with his fist or so much as exchanged a slap in the face! You see, Ygene, that this cannot last, and that we must change it all."
"Perfectly! perfectly!" cried the enthusiastic assistant; "and have you analyzed the air of this town, master?"
"I have not failed to do so. Seventy-nine parts of azote and twenty-one of oxygen, carbonic acid and steam in a variable quantity. These are the ordinary proportions."
"Good, doctor, good!" replied Ygene. "The experiment will be made on a large scale, and will be decisive."
"And if it is decisive," added Doctor Ox triumphantly, "we shall reform the world!"
