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Death and its Mystery: After Death – Camille Flammarion

The following manifestation appeared three days after death.  An account of it was sent me from Hyeres, on May 31, 1899. The story was told to the narrator by a neighbour, a woman estimable from every point of view, "simple, truthful, and sincere." She said:

Three days had passed since we lost our father through sudden death. (He had died of congestion of the brain.) Since it was customary in our house for my father to pay all expenses, he alone had charge of the money. He was in the habit of putting it - his ideas were a little odd - in certain places more or less hidden from us.

After the funeral, when we wished to settle up everything, my mother, in order to pay pressing bills, began to look for the sum from which household and all other expenses were taken. We were certain that my father had hidden it somewhere. It was probable that the amount was very small.

The whole family - my mother, myself, and two boys - began a search. We looked from attic to basement, with no more result than if we had not looked at all. My mother was in despair, since she had counted on the money to pay household and other expenses with. We did not know which way to turn, and were all in the deepest misery.

In the course of the third night, between eleven and midnight I heard, suddenly, steps descending the stairs which led to the hay-loft. These steps halted on the landing before the door of my room, and immediately I heard the latch lifted and the door creak. And my father's well-known voice reached my ears, calling three times,

“Baptistine, my child!”

As you may well suppose, I was more dead than alive.

My girl cousin was sleeping with me; I pushed her with all the strength I had left, trying to waken her. It was useless; she slept on undisturbed. Then I answered my father, but in a voice so choked by emotion that only with difficulty could I utter the two words 'My father!'

“Listen, my child,” he said “Since I left you, you have been greatly worried and have suffered most terribly because you can't find the money. Well, it's in an old packing-case that once had oranges in it; the box is in the room behind the kitchen. It is divided into compartments; there are bags of several kinds of grain on one side of it. And. on the other side, at the very bottom, under some rags, is the money which is causing you so much suffering! Good-by, my child.”

I need not add that the whole family was at once up and about; some minutes afterward we found the hoard.

Such is my story. I shall neither retract from it, nor add to it.

(Letter 710.)

HILARION MARQUAND, Landowner.

Place des Palmiers, 34.