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I come back to the great sorrow we felt after the death of Emile T...

My father took little comfort in it and constantly thought of Emile, as he called him.

He often talked about him to his friend Mr. E. David, deputy director of tinctures at the Gobelins factory, who, like us, had known Emile T...

One day Mr. David, as if annoyed by my father's constant recriminations, said to him: "But, old man, you cry for Emile all the time. Did you know that he may not be as dead as you think he is?"

- What a good story you're telling me," replied my father.

- But the exact truth, said Mr. David. Come on, have you ever heard of spiritualism?

To this question, my father replied that he indeed had already had the opportunity to discuss this issue with friends, but that he had never really attached any importance to all these stories from the other world, and that he really did not consider them to be serious.

"Look, said Mr. David, if you want to see something, come and visit us next Sunday at home. My mother is a medium and maybe we can get a communication from Emile T..."

- All right, replied my father, see you next Sunday.

When my father came home, he told us about this conversation, and I remember very well the effect it had on me and my mother.

A loud hilarity welcomed the narrative.

Nevertheless, as a matter of curiosity, the three of us decided to go to the Sunday appointment together, my father, mother and me.

I remember the impression that poor mother of Mr. David made on me when I first saw her.

When I heard she was a medium, I looked at her strangely; at her pace (she was small, old and very wrinkled), I thought I saw a kind of fortuneteller.

Ah! If someone, at that moment, had told me that it was thanks to this first visit that I would become a medium, I would have laughed.

After the usual presentations, Mr. David asked my father if he realized what he was going to see.

- "To be true, no," said my father.

- "Well," continued Mr. David, "we'll ask Emile T... to come and talk to us."

I was laughing up my sleeve!.........

To get this conversation from beyond the grave, we sat around the round table in the dining room and laid our hands flat on the furniture.

After a few moments, the latter turns on itself, right, left; then very distinct blows are heard in its middle.

After the first comprehensible movement of surprise on our part, my father, mother and me looked at each other instinctively. However, at Mr. David's invitation, assuring us that there was no hidden stuff, nor any kind of electrical machine communicating with the table, we carefully inspected the furniture. The feet, the bottom, the floor itself, everything was passed through and we saw absolutely nothing. In short, after a few moments, Mr. David asked the spirit that he was claiming to be there to say his name.

"Emile T... " he replied.

And, by successive alphabetical letters, one sentence, another, a whole communication, finally, was given to us. It was perfectly in the style that was customary for our friend to use in his lifetime!!

*  *

After that first séance, we went home and thought about what we had just seen and, well, we were far from convinced.

It was quite rational; (it is preferable, in this respect, to be skeptical at first; in this way, we study the phenomena we notice much better and with the greatest composure).

The next Sunday, and many others afterwards, were employed in séances with Mme David as a medium. We were able to talk, not only with Emile T..., but also with many of our missing parents. We were given clear and undoubtedly possible proof of identity, and despite this our reservation remained great..................