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diff --git a/old/6571-h.htm.2021-01-27 b/old/6571-h.htm.2021-01-27 new file mode 100644 index 0000000..67c9538 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/6571-h.htm.2021-01-27 @@ -0,0 +1,9987 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Queen Pedauque, by Anatole France + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Queen Pedauque, by Anatole France + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Queen Pedauque + +Author: Anatole France + + +Release Date: September, 2004 [EBook #6571] +This file was first posted on December 28, 2002 +Last Updated: October 5, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE QUEEN PEDAUQUE *** + + + + +Text files produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + +</pre> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE QUEEN PEDAUQUE + </h1> + <h2> + By Anatole France + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h3> + Translated By Jos. A. V. Stritzko + </h3> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h3> + Introduction By James Branch Cabell + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_INTR"> INTRODUCTION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> <b>THE QUEEN PEDAUQUE</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_INTR" id="link2H_INTR"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + INTRODUCTION + </h2> + <p> + What one first notes about <i>The Queen Pedauque</i> is the fact that in + this ironic and subtle book is presented a story which, curiously enough, + is remarkable for its entire innocence of subtlety and irony. Abridge the + “plot” into a synopsis, and you will find your digest to be what is + manifestly the outline of a straightforward, plumed romance by the elder + Dumas. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, Dumas would have handled the “strange surprising adventures” of + Jacques Tournebroche to a nicety, if only Dumas had ever thought to have + his collaborators write this brisk tale, wherein d’Astarac and + Tournebroche and Mosaide display, even now, a noticeable something in + common with the Balsamo and Gilbert and Althotas of the <i>Memoires d’un + Medecin</i>. One foresees, to be sure, that, with the twin-girthed Creole + for guide, M. Jerome Coignard would have waddled into immortality not + quite as we know him, but with somewhat more of a fraternal resemblance to + the Dom Gorenflot of <i>La Dame de Monsoreau;</i> and that the blood of + the abbe’s death-wound could never have bedewed the book’s final pages, in + the teeth of Dumas’ economic unwillingness ever to despatch any character + who was “good for” a sequel. + </p> + <p> + And one thinks rather kindlily of <i>The Queen Pedauque</i> as Dumas would + have equipped it... Yes, in reading here, it is the most facile and least + avoidable of mental exercises to prefigure how excellently Dumas would + have contrived this book,—somewhat as in the reading of Mr. Joseph + Conrad’s novels a many of us are haunted by the sense that the Conrad + “story” is, in its essential beams and stanchions, the sort of thing which + W. Clark Russell used to put together, in a rather different way, for our + illicit perusal. Whereby I only mean that such seafaring was illicit in + those aureate days when, Cleveland being consul for the second time, your + geography figured as the screen of fictive reading-matter during + school-hours. + </p> + <p> + One need not say that there is no question, in either case, of + “imitation,” far less of “plagiarism”; nor need one, surely, point out the + impossibility of anybody’s ever mistaking the present book for a novel by + Alexandre Dumas. Ere Homer’s eyesight began not to be what it had been, + the fact was noted by the observant Chian, that very few sane architects + commence an edifice by planting and rearing the oaks which are to compose + its beams and stanchions. You take over all such supplies ready hewn, and + choose by preference time-seasoned timber. Since Homer’s prime a host of + other great creative writers have recognised this axiom when they too + began to build: and “originality” has by ordinary been, like chess and + democracy, a Mecca for little minds. + </p> + <p> + Besides, there is the vast difference that M. Anatole France has + introduced into the Dumas theatre some preeminently un-Dumas-like + stage-business: the characters, between assignations and combats, toy + amorously with ideas. That is the difference which at a stroke dissevers + them from any helter-skelter character in Dumas as utterly as from any of + our clearest thinkers in office. + </p> + <p> + It is this toying, this series of mental <i>amourettes</i>, which + incommunicably “makes the difference” in almost all the volumes of M. + France familiar to me, but our affair is with this one story. Now in this + vivid book we have our fill of color and animation and gallant + strangenesses, and a stir of characters who impress us as living with a + poignancy unmastered as yet by anybody’s associates in flesh and blood. We + have, in brief, all that Dumas could ever offer, here utilised not to make + drama but background, all being woven into a bright undulating tapestry + behind an erudite and battered figure,—a figure of odd medleys, in + which the erudition is combined with much of Autolycus, and the + unkemptness with something of à Kempis. For what one remembers of <i>The + Queen Pédauque</i> is l’Abbé Jérôme Coignard; and what one remembers, + ultimately, about Coignard is not his crowded career, however opulent in + larcenous and lectual escapades and fisticuffs and broached wineflasks; + but his religious meditations, wherein a merry heart does, quite actually, + go all the way. + </p> + <p> + Coignard I take to be a peculiarly rare type of man (there is no female of + this species), the type that is genuinely interested in religion. He + stands apart. He halves little with the staid majority of us, who sociably + contract our sacred tenets from our neighbors like a sort of theological + measles. He halves nothing whatever with our more earnest-minded juniors + who—perennially discovering that all religions thus far put to the + test of nominal practice have, whatever their paradisial <i>entrée</i>, + resulted in a deplorable earthly hash—perennially run yelping into + the shrill agnosticism which believes only that one’s neighbors should not + be permitted to believe in anything. + </p> + <p> + The creed of Coignard is more urbane. “Always bear in mind that a sound + intelligence rejects everything that is contrary to reason, except in + matters of faith, where it is necessary to believe blindly.” Your opinions + are thus all-important, your physical conduct is largely a matter of + taste, in a philosophy which ranks affairs of the mind immeasurably above + the gross accidents of matter. Indeed, man can win to heaven only through + repentance, and the initial step toward repentance is to do something to + repent of. There is no flaw in this logic, and in its clear lighting such + abrogations of parochial and transitory human laws as may be suggested by + reason and the consciousness that nobody is looking, take on the aspect of + divinely appointed duties. + </p> + <p> + Some dullard may here object that M. France—attestedly, indeed, + since he remains unjailed-cannot himself believe all this, and that it is + with an ironic glitter in his ink he has recorded these dicta. To which + the obvious answer would be that M. France (again like all great creative + writers) is an ephemeral and negligible person beside his durable puppets; + and that, moreover, to reason thus is, it may be precipitately, to + disparage the plumage of birds on the ground that an egg has no + feathers... Whatever M. France may believe, our concern is here with the + conviction of M. Coignard that his religion is all-important and + all-significant. And it is curious to observe how unerringly the abbe’s + thoughts aspire, from no matter what remote and low-lying starting-point, + to the loftiest niceties of religion and the high thin atmosphere of + ethics. Sauce spilt upon the good man’s collar is but a reminder of the + influence of clothes upon our moral being, and of how terrifyingly is the + destiny of each person’s soul dependent upon such trifles; a glass of + light white wine leads not, as we are nowadays taught to believe, to + instant ruin, but to edifying considerations of the life and glory of St. + Peter; and a pack of cards suggests, straightway, intransigent fine points + of martyrology. Always this churchman’s thoughts deflect to the most + interesting of themes, to the relationship between God and His children, + and what familiary etiquette may be necessary to preserve the relationship + unstrained. These problems alone engross Coignard unfailingly, even when + the philosopher has had the ill luck to fall simultaneously into + drunkenness and a public fountain, and retains so notably his composure + between the opposed assaults of fluidic unfriends. + </p> + <p> + What, though, is found the outcome of this philosophy, appears a question + to be answered with wariness of empiricism. None can deny that Coignard + says when he lies dying: “My son, reject, along with the example I gave + you, the maxims which I may have proposed to you during my period of + lifelong folly. Do not listen to those who, like myself, subtilise over + good and evil.” Yet this is just one low-spirited moment, as set against + the preceding fifty-two high-hearted years. And the utterance wrung forth + by this moment is, after all, merely that sentiment which seems the + inevitable bedfellow of the moribund,—“Were I to have my life over + again, I would live differently.” The sentiment is familiar and venerable, + but its truthfulness has not yet been attested. + </p> + <p> + To the considerate, therefore, it may appear expedient to dismiss + Coignard’s trite winding-up of a half-century of splendid talking, as just + the infelicitous outcropping, in the dying man’s enfeebled condition, of + an hereditary foible. And when moralising would approach an admonitory + forefinger to the point that Coignard’s manner of living brought him to + die haphazardly, among preoccupied strangers at a casual wayside inn, you + do, there is no questioning it, recall that a more generally applauded + manner of living has been known to result in a more competently + arranged-for demise, under the best churchly and legal auspices, through + the rigors of crucifixion. + </p> + <p> + So it becomes the part of wisdom to waive these mundane riddles, and to + consider instead the justice of Coignard’s fine epitaph, wherein we read + that “living without worldly honors, he earned for himself eternal glory.” + The statement may (with St. Peter keeping the gate) have been challenged + in paradise, but in literature at all events the unhonored life of Jérome + Coignard has clothed him with glory of tolerably longeval looking texture. + It is true that this might also be said of Iago and Tartuffe, but then we + have Balzac’s word for it that merely to be celebrated is not enough. + Rather is the highest human desideratum twofold,—<i>D’être célèbre + et d’être aimé</i>. And that much Coignard promises to be for a long + while. + </p> + <p> + James Branch Cabell + </p> + <p> + Dumbarton Grange, + </p> + <p> + July, 1921, + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE QUEEN PEDAUQUE + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I + </h2> + <h3> + Why I recount the singular Occurrences of my Life + </h3> + <p> + I intend to give an account of some odd occurrences in my life. Some have + been exquisite, some queer Recollecting them, I am myself in doubt if I + have not dreamed them. I have known a Gascon cabalist, of whom I could not + say that he was wise, because he perished miserably, but he delivered + sublime discourses to me, on a certain night on the Isle of Swans, + speeches [Footnote: The original manuscript, written in a fine hand, of + the eighteenth century, bears the sub-heading “Vie et Opinions de M. + l’Abbé Jérôme Coignard” [<i>The Editor</i>].] I was happy enough to keep + in my memory, and careful enough to put into writing. Those speeches + referred to magic and to occult sciences, with which people were very much + infatuated in my days. + </p> + <p> + Everyone speaks of naught else but Rosicrucian mysteries.[Footnote: This + writing dates from the second half of the eighteenth century [<i>The + Editor</i>]]. Besides I do not myself expect to gain great honour by these + revelations. Some will say that everything is of my own invention, and + that it is not the true doctrine, others that I only said what one had + already known. I own that I am not very learned in cabalistic lore, my + master having perished at the beginning of my initiation. But, little as I + have learned of his craft, it makes me vehemently suspect that all of it + is illusion, deception and vanity. + </p> + <p> + I think it quite sufficient to repudiate magic with all my strength, + because it is contrary to religion. But still I believe myself to be + obliged to explain concerning one point of this false science, so that + none may judge me to be more ignorant than I really am. I know that + cabalists generally think that Sylphs, Salamanders, Elves, Gnomes and + Gnomides are born with a soul perishable like their bodies and that they + acquire immortality by intercourse with the magicians. [Footnote: This + opinion is especially supported in a little book of the Abbé Montfaucon de + Villars, “Le Comte de Gabalis au Entretiens sur les sciences secrètes et + mystérieuses suivant les principes des anciens mages ou sages + cabbalistes,” of which several editions are extant. I only mention the one + published at Amsterdam (Jacques Le Jeune, 1700, 18mo, with engravings), + which contains a second part not included in the original edition [<i>The + Editor</i>]] On the contrary my cabalist taught me that eternal life does + not fall to the lot of any creature, earthly or aerial. I follow his + sentiment without presuming myself to judge it. + </p> + <p> + He was in the habit of saying that the Elves kill those who reveal their + mysteries, and he attributes the death of M. l’Abbé Coignard, who was + murdered on the Lyons road, to the vengeance of those spirits. But I know + very well that this much lamented death had a more natural cause. I shall + speak freely of the air and fire spirits. One has to run some risk in life + and that with Elves is an extremely small one. + </p> + <p> + I have zealously gathered the words of my good teacher M. l’Abbé Jérôme + Coignard, who perished as I have said. He was a man full of knowledge and + godliness. Could his soul have been less troubled he would have been the + equal in virtue of M. l’Abbé Rollin, whom he far surpassed in extent of + knowledge and penetration of intellect. + </p> + <p> + He had at least the advantage over M. Rollin that he had not fallen into + Jansenism during the agitation of a troubled life, because the soundness + of his mind was not to be shaken by the violence of reckless doctrines, + and before Him I can attest to the purity of his faith. He had a wide + knowledge of the world, obtained by the frequentation of all sorts of + companies. This experience would have served him well with the Roman + histories he, like M. Rollin, would doubtless have composed should he have + had time and leisure, and if his life could have been better matched to + his genius. What I shall relate of this excellent man will be the ornament + of these memoirs. And like Aulus Gellius, who culled the most beautiful + sayings of the philosophers into his “Attic Nights,” and him who put the + best fables of the Greeks into the “Metamorphoses,” I will do a bee’s work + and gather exquisite honey. But I do not flatter myself to be the rival of + those two great authors, because I draw all my wealth from my own life’s + recollections and not from an abundance of reading. What I furnish out of + my own stock is good faith. Whenever some curious person shall read my + memoirs he will easily recognise that a candid soul alone could express + itself in language so plain and unaffected. Where and with whomsoever I + have lived I have always been considered to be entirely artless. These + writings cannot but confirm it after my death. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II + </h2> + <p> + My Home at the Queen Pédauque Cookshop—I turn the Spit and learn to + read—Entry of Abbe Jerome Coignard. + </p> + <p> + My name is Elme Laurent Jacques Ménétrier. My father, Léonard Ménétrier, + kept a cookshop at the sign of <i>Queen Pédauque,</i> who, as everyone + knows, wag web-footed like the geese and ducks. + </p> + <p> + His penthouse was opposite Saint Benoit le Bétourné between Mistress + Gilles the haberdasher at the <i>Three Virgins</i> and M. Blaizot, the + bookseller at the sign of <i>Saint Catherine,</i> not far from the <i>Little + Bacchus,</i> the gate of which, decorated with vine branches, was at the + corner of the Rue des Cordiers. He loved me very much, and when, after + supper, I lay in my little bed, he took my hand in his, lifted one after + the other of my fingers, beginning with the thumb, and said: + </p> + <p> + “This one has killed him, this one has plucked him, this one has + fricasseed him and that one has eaten him, and the little <i>Riquiqui</i> + had nothing at all. Sauce, sauce, sauce,” he used to add, tickling the + hollow of my hand with my own little finger. + </p> + <p> + And mightily he laughed, and I laughed too, dropping off to sleep, and my + mother used to affirm that the smile still remained on my lips on the + following morning. + </p> + <p> + My father was a good cookshop-keeper and feared God. For this he carried + on holidays the banner of the Cooks’ Guild, on which a fine-looking St + Laurence was embroidered, with his grill and a golden palm. He used to say + to me: + </p> + <p> + “Jacquot, thy mother is a holy and worthy woman.” + </p> + <p> + He liked to repeat this sentence frequently. True, my mother went to + church every Sunday with a prayer-book printed in big type. She could + hardly read small print, which, as she said, drew the eyes out of her + head. + </p> + <p> + My father used to pass an hour or two nightly at the tavern of the <i>Little + Bacchus</i>; there also Jeannetæ the hurdy-gurdy player and Catherine the + lacemaker were regular frequenters. And every time he returned home + somewhat later than usual he said in a soft voice, while pulling his + cotton night-cap on: + </p> + <p> + “Barbe, sleep in peace; as I have just said to the limping cutler: ‘You + are a holy and worthy woman.’” + </p> + <p> + I was six years old when, one day, readjusting his apron, with him always + a sign of resolution, he said to me: + </p> + <p> + “Miraut, our good dog, has turned my roasting-spit during these last + fourteen years. I have nothing to reproach him with. He is a good servant, + who has never stolen the smallest morsel of turkey or goose. He was always + satisfied to lick the roaster as his wage. But he is getting old. His legs + are getting stiff; he can’t see, and is no more good to turn the handle. + Jacquot, my boy, it is your duty to take his place. With some thought and + some practice, you certainly will succeed in doing as well as he.” + </p> + <p> + Miraut listened to these words and wagged his tail as a sign of + approbation. My father continued: + </p> + <p> + “Now then, seated on this stool, you’ll turn the spit. But to form your + mind you’ll con your horn-book, and when, afterwards, you are able to read + type, you’ll learn by heart some grammar or morality book, or those fine + maxims of the Old and New Testaments. And that because the knowledge of + God and the distinction between good and evil are also necessary in a + working position, certainly of but trifling importance but honest as mine + is, and which was my father’s and also will be yours, please God.” + </p> + <p> + And from this very day on, sitting from morn till night, at the corner of + the fireplace, I turned the spit, the open horn-book on my knees. A good + Capuchin friar, who with his bag came a-begging to my father, taught me + how to spell. He did so the more willingly as my father, who had a + consideration for knowledge, paid for his lesson with a savoury morsel of + roast turkey and a large glass of wine, so liberally that by-and-by the + little friar, aware that I was able to form syllables and words tolerably + well, brought me a fine “Life of St Margaret,” wherewith he taught me to + read fluently. + </p> + <p> + On a certain day, having as usual laid his wallet on the counter, he sat + down at my side, and, warming his naked feet on the hot ashes of the + fireplace, he made me recite for the hundredth time: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Pucelle sage, nette et fine, + Aide des femmes en gésine + Ayez pitié de nous.” + </pre> + <p> + At this moment a man of rather burly stature and withal of noble + appearance, clad in the ecclesiastical habit, entered the shop and shouted + out with an ample voice: + </p> + <p> + “Hello! host, serve me a good portion!” With grey hair, he still looked + full of health and strength. His mouth was laughing and his eyes were + sprightly, his cheeks were somewhat heavy and his three chins dropped + majestically on a neckband which, maybe by sympathy, had become as greasy + as the throat it enveloped. + </p> + <p> + My father, courteous by profession, lifted his cap and bowing said: + </p> + <p> + “If your reverence will be so good as to warm yourself near the fire, I’ll + soon serve you with what you desire.” + </p> + <p> + Without any further preamble the priest took a seat near the fire by the + side of the Capuchin friar. + </p> + <p> + Hearing the good friar reading aloud: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Pucelle sage, nette et fine, + Aide des femnies en gésine,” + </pre> + <p> + he clapped his hands and said: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the rare bird! The unique man! A Capuchin who is able to read! Eh, + little friar, what is your name?” + </p> + <p> + “Friar Ange, an unworthy Capuchin,” replied my teacher. + </p> + <p> + My mother, hearing the voices from the upper room descended to the shop, + attracted by curiosity. + </p> + <p> + The priest greeted her with an already familiar politeness and said: + </p> + <p> + “That is really wonderful, mistress; Friar Ange is a Capuchin and knows + how to read.” + </p> + <p> + “He is able to read all sorts of writing,” replied my mother. + </p> + <p> + And going near the friar, she recognised the prayer of St Margaret by the + picture representing the maiden martyr with a holy-water sprinkler in her + hand. + </p> + <p> + “This prayer,” she added, “is difficult to read because the words of it + are very small and hardly divided, but happily it is quite sufficient, + when in labour-pains, to apply it like a plaster on the place where the + most pain is felt and it operates just as well, and rather better, than + when it is recited. I had the proof of it, sir, when my son Jacquot was + born, who is here present.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not doubt about it, my good dame,” said Friar Ange. “The orison of St + Margaret is sovereign for what you mentioned, but under the special + condition that the Capuchins get their Maundy.” + </p> + <p> + In saying so, Friar Ange emptied the goblet of wine which my mother had + filled up for him and, throwing his wallet over his shoulder, went off in + the direction of the <i>Little Bacchus</i>. + </p> + <p> + My father served a quarter of fowl to the priest, who took out of his + pocket a piece of bread, a flagon of wine and a knife, the copper handle + of which represented the late king on a column in the costume of a Roman + emperor, and began to have his supper. + </p> + <p> + But having hardly taken the first morsel in his mouth he turned round on + my father and asked for some salt, rather surprised that no salt cellar + had been presented to him offhand. + </p> + <p> + “So did the ancients use it,” he said, “they offered salt as a sign of + hospitality. They also placed salt cellars in the temples on the + tablecloths of the gods.” + </p> + <p> + My father presented him with some bay salt out of the wooden shoe which + was hung on the mantelpiece. The priest took what he wanted of it and + said: + </p> + <p> + “The ancients considered salt to be a necessary seasoning of all repasts, + and held it in so high esteem that they metaphorically called salt the wit + which gives flavour to conversation.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said my father, “high as the ancients may have valued it, the excise + of our days puts it still higher.” + </p> + <p> + My mother, listening the while she knitted a woollen stocking, was glad to + say a word: + </p> + <p> + “It must be believed that salt is a good thing, because the priests put a + grain of it on the tongues of the babies held over the christening font. + When my Jacques felt the salt on his tongue he made a grimace; as tiny as + he was he already had some sense. I speak, Sir Priest, of my son Jacques + here present.” + </p> + <p> + The priest looked on me and said: + </p> + <p> + “Now he is already a grown-up boy. Modesty is painted on his features and + he reads the ‘Life of St Margaret’ with attention.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” exclaimed my mother, “he also reads the prayer for chilblains and + that of ‘St Hubert,’ which Friar Ange has given him, and the history of + that fellow who has been devoured, in the Saint Marcel suburb, by several + devils for having blasphemed the holy name of our Lord.” + </p> + <p> + My father looked admiringly on me, and then he murmured into the priest’s + ear that I learned anything I wanted to know with a native and natural + facility. + </p> + <p> + “Wherefore,” replied the priest, “you must form him to become a man of + letters, which to be, is one of the honours of mankind, the consolation of + human life and a remedy against all evils, actually against those of love, + as it is affirmed by the poet Theocritus.” + </p> + <p> + “Simple cook as I am,” was my father’s reply, “I hold knowledge in high + esteem, and am quite willing to believe that it also is, as your reverence + says, a remedy for love. But I do not think that it is a remedy against + hunger.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, perhaps it is not a sovereign ointment,” replied the priest; “but + it gives some solace, like a sweet balm, although somewhat imperfect.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke Catherine the lacemaker appeared on the threshold, with her + bonnet sideways over her ear and her neckerchief very much creased. Seeing + her, my mother frowned and let slip three meshes of her knitting. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Ménétrier,” said Catherine to my father, “come and say a word to + the sergeants of the watch. If you do not, they doubtless will lock up + Friar Ange. The good friar came to the <i>Little Bacchus</i>, where he + drank two or three pots without paying for them, so as not to go contrary + to the rules of St Francis, he said. But the worst of it is, that he, + seeing me in company under the arbour, came near me to teach me a new + prayer. I told him it was not the right moment to do so, and he insisting + on it, the limping cutler, who was sitting by me, tore his beard rather + roughly. Friar Ange threw himself on the cutler, who fell to the ground, + and by his fall upset the table and pitchers. + </p> + <p> + “The taverner, running up, seeing the table knocked over, the wine spilt, + and Friar Ange with one foot on the cutler’s head, swinging a stool with + which he struck anyone approaching him, this vile taverner swore like a + real devil and called for the watch. Monsieur Ménétrier, do come at once + and take the little friar out of the watch’s clutches. He is a holy man, + and quite excusable in this affair.” + </p> + <p> + My father was inclined to oblige Catherine, but for this once the + lacemaker’s words had not the effect she expected. He said plainly that he + could not find any excuse for the Capuchin, and that he wished him to get + a good punishment by bread and water in the darkest corner of the cellars + of the convent, of which he was the shame and disgrace. + </p> + <p> + He warmed up in talking: + </p> + <p> + “A drunkard and a dissipated fellow, to whom I give daily good wine and + good morsels and who goes to the tavern to play the deuce with some + ill-famed creatures, depraved enough to prefer the company of a hawking + cutler and a Capuchin friar to that of honest sworn tradesmen of the + quarter. Fie! fie!” + </p> + <p> + Therewith he suddenly stopped his scoldings and looked sideways on my + mother, who, standing up at the entry to the staircase, pushed her + knitting needles with sharp little strokes. + </p> + <p> + Catherine, surprised by this unfriendly reception, said drily: + </p> + <p> + “Then you don’t want to say a good word to the taverner and the sergeant?” + </p> + <p> + “If you wish it, I’ll tell them to take the cutler and the friar.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” she replied, and laughed, “the cutler is your friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Less mine than yours,” said my father sharply. “A ragamuffin and a + humbug, who hops about——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she exclaimed, “that’s true, really true, that he hops. He hops, + hops, hops!” + </p> + <p> + And she left the shop, shaking with laughter. + </p> + <p> + My father turned round to the priest, who was picking a bone: + </p> + <p> + “It is as I had the honour to say to your reverence! For each reading and + writing lesson that Capuchin friar gives to my child, I pay him with a + goblet of wine and a fine piece of meat, hare, rabbit, goose, or a tender + poulet or a capon. He is a drunkard and evil liver!” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t doubt about that,” said the priest. + </p> + <p> + “But if ever he dares to come over my threshold again, I’ll drive him out + with a broomstick.” + </p> + <p> + “And you’ll do well by it,” said the priest; “that Capuchin is an ass, and + he taught your son rather to bray than to talk. You’ll act wisely by + throwing into the fire that ‘Life of St Catherine,’ that prayer for the + cure of chilblains and that history of the bugbear, with which that monk + poisoned your son’s mind. For the same price you paid for Friar Ange’s + lessons, I’ll give him my own; I’ll teach him Latin and Greek, and French + also, that language which Voiture and Balzac have brought to perfection. + And in such way, by a luck doubly singular and favourable, this Jacquot + Tournebroche will become learned and I shall eat every day.” + </p> + <p> + “Agreed!” said my father. “Barbara, bring two goblets. No business is + concluded without the contracting parties having a drink together as a + token of agreement. We will drink here. I’ll never in my life put my legs + into the <i>Little Bacchus</i> again, so repugnant have that cutler and + that monk become to me.” + </p> + <p> + The priest rose and, putting his hands on the back of his chair, said in a + slow and serious manner: + </p> + <p> + “Before all, I thank God, the Creator and Conserver of all things, for + having guided me into this hospitable house. It is He alone who governs us + and we are compelled to recognise His providence in all matters human, + notwithstanding that it is foolhardy and sometimes incongruous to follow + Him too closely. Because being universal He is to be found in all sorts of + encounters, sublime by the conduct which He keeps, but obscene or + ridiculous for the part man takes in it and which is the only part where + they appear to us. And therefore one must not shout, in the manner of + Capuchin monks and goody-goody women, that God is to be seen in every + trifle. Let us praise the Lord; pray to Him to enlighten me in the + teachings I’ll give to that child, and for the rest let us rely on His + holy will, without searching to understand it in all its details.” + </p> + <p> + And raising his goblet, he drank deeply. + </p> + <p> + “This wine,” he said, “infilters into the economy of the human body a + sweet and salutary warmth. It is a liquor worthy to be sung at Teos and at + the Temple by the princes of bacchic poets, Anacreon and Chaulieu. I will + anoint with it the lips of my young disciple.” + </p> + <p> + He held the goblet under my chin and exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “Bees of the Academy, come, come and place yourselves in harmonious swarms + on the mouth of Jacobus Tournebroche, henceforth consecrated to the + Muses.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Sir Priest,” said my mother, “it is a truth that wine attracts the + bees, particularly sweet wine. But it is not to be wished that those + nefarious flies should place themselves on the mouth of my Jacquot, as + their sting is cruel. One day in biting into a peach a bee stung me on the + tongue, and I had to suffer fiendish pains. They would be calmed only by a + little earth, mixed up with spittle, which Friar Ange put into my mouth in + reciting the prayer of St Comis.” + </p> + <p> + The priest gave her to understand that he spoke of bees in an allegorical + sense only. And my father said reproachfully: “Barbe, you’re a holy and + worthy woman, but many a time I have noticed that you have a peevish + liking to throw yourself thoughtlessly into serious conversation like a + dog into a game of skittles.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe,” replied my mother. “But had you followed my counsels better, + Léonard, you would have done better. I may not know all the sorts of bees, + but I know how to manage a home and understand the good manners a man of a + certain age ought to practise, who is the father of a family and + standard-bearer of his guild.” + </p> + <p> + My father scratched his ear, and poured some wine for the priest, who said + with a sigh: + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, in our days, knowledge is not as much honoured in our kingdom + of France, as it had been by the Romans, although degenerated at the time + when rhetoric brought Eugenius to the Emperor’s throne. It is not a rarity + in our century to find a clever man in a garret without fire or candle. <i>Exemplum + ut talpa</i>—I am an example.” + </p> + <p> + Thereafter he gave us a narration of his life, which I’ll report just as + it came out of his own mouth—that is, as near it as the weakness of + my age allowed me to hear distinctly and hereafter keep in my memory. I + believe I have been able to restore it after the confidences he gave me at + a later time, when he honoured me with his friendship. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III + </h2> + <h3> + The Story of the Abbé’s Life + </h3> + <p> + “As you see me,” he said, “or rather as you do not see me, young, slender, + with ardent eyes and black hair, I was a teacher of liberal arts at the + College of Beauvais under Messrs Dugué, Guérin, Coffin and Baffier. I had + been ordained, and expected to make a big name in letters. But a woman + upset my hopes. Her name was Nicole Pigoreau and she kept a bookseller’s + shop at the <i>Golden Bible</i> on the square near the college. I went + there frequently to thumb the books she received from Holland and also + those bipontic editions illustrated with notes, comments and commentaries + of great erudition. I was amiable and Mistress Pigoreau became aware of + it, which was my misfortune. + </p> + <p> + “She had been pretty, and still knew how to be pleasing. Her eyes spoke. + One day the Cicero, Livy, Plato and the Aristotle, Thucydides, Polybius + and Varro, the Epictetus, Seneca, Boethius and Cassiodorus, the Homer, + Æschylus. Sophocles, Euripides, Plautus and Terence, the Diodorus of + Sicily and Dionysius of Halicarnassus, St John Chrysostom and St Basil, St + Jerome and St Augustine, Erasmus, Saumaise, Turnebe and Scaliger, St + Thomas Aquinas, St Bonaventure, Bossuet dragging Ferri with him, Lenain, + Godefroy, Mézeray, Maimbourg, Fabricius, Father Lelong and Father Pitou, + all the poets, all the historians, all the fathers, all the doctors, all + the theologians, all the humanists, all the compilers, assembled high and + low on the walls, became witnesses to our kisses. + </p> + <p> + “‘I could not resist you,’ she said to me; ‘don’t conceive a bad opinion + of me.’ + </p> + <p> + “She expressed her love for me in singular raptures. Once she made me try + on neck and wrist bands of fine lace, and finding them suit me well she + insisted on my accepting them. I did not want to. But on her becoming + irritated by my refusal, which she considered an offence against love, I + finally consented to accept them, afraid to offend her. + </p> + <p> + “My good fortune lasted till I was to be replaced by an officer. I became + spiteful over it, and in the ardour of avenging myself I informed the + College Regents that I did not go any longer to the <i>Golden Bible</i>, + for fear of seeing there expositions rather offensive to the modesty of a + young clerical. To say the truth, I had not to congratulate myself on this + contrivance. Madame Pigoreau, becoming aware of my sayings, publicly + accused me of having robbed her of a set of lace neck and wrist bands. Her + false complaint reached the ears of the College Regents, who had my boxes + searched; therein was found the garment, a matter of considerable value. I + was expelled from college and had, like Hippolyte and Bellerophon, to put + up with the wiles and wickedness of woman. + </p> + <p> + “Finding myself in the streets with my few rags and my copybooks, I ran + great risk of starving, when, dressed in my clerical suit, I recommended + myself to a Huguenot gentleman, who employed me as secretary and dictated + to me libels on our religion.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” exclaimed my father, “that was wrong of your reverence. An honest + man ought not to lend his hand to such abominations. And as far as I am + concerned, although ignorant, and of a working condition, I cannot bear + the smell of Colas’ cow.” + </p> + <p> + “You’re quite right, my host,” continued the priest. “It is the worst + point in my life. The very one I am most sorry for. But my man was a + Calvinist. He employed me to write against Lutherans and Socinians only; + these he could not stand at all, and, I assure you, he compelled me to + treat them worse than ever it was done at the Sorbonne.” + </p> + <p> + “Amen,” said my father. “Lambs graze together while wolves devour one the + other.” + </p> + <p> + The priest continued his narrative: + </p> + <p> + “Besides, I did not remain for long with that gentleman, who made more + fuss about the letters of Ulric von Hutten than of the harangues of + Demosthenes, and in whose house water was the only drink. Afterwards I + followed various callings, but all without success. I became a pedlar, a + strolling player, a monk, a valet, and at last, by resuming my clerical + garb, I became secretary to the Bishop of Séez and edited the catalogue of + the precious MSS. contained in his library. This catalogue consists of two + volumes in folio, which were placed in his gallery, bound in red morocco, + with his crest on and the edges gilded. I venture to say it was a good + work. + </p> + <p> + “It would have depended on myself alone to get old and grey in studies and + peace with the right reverend prelate, but I became enamoured of the + waiting-maid of the bailiff’s lady. Do not blame me severely. Dark she + was, buxom, vivacious, fresh. St Pacomus himself would have loved her. One + day she took a seat in the stage coach to travel to Paris in quest of + luck. I followed her. But I did not succeed as well as she did. On her + recommendation I entered the service of Mistress de Saint Ernest, an opera + dancer, who, aware of my talents, ordered me to write after her dictation + a lampoon on Mademoiselle Davilliers, against whom she had some grievance. + I was a pretty good secretary, and well deserved the fifty crowns she had + promised me. The book was printed at Amsterdam by Marc-Michel Key, with an + allegoric frontispiece, and Mademoiselle Davilliers received the first + copy of it just when she went on the stage to sing the great aria of + Armida. + </p> + <p> + “Anger made her voice hoarse and shaky. She sang false and was hooted. Her + song ended, she ran as she was, in powder and hoop petticoats, to the + Intendant of the Privy Purse, who could not refuse her anything. She fell + on her knees before him, shed abundant tears and shouted for vengeance. + And soon it became known that the blow was struck by Mistress de Saint + Ernest. + </p> + <p> + “Questioned, hard pressed, sharply threatened, she denounced me as the + author, and I was put into the Bastille, where I remained four years. + There I found some consolation in reading Boethius and Cassiodorus. + </p> + <p> + “Since then I have kept a public scrivener’s stall at the Cemetery of the + Saints Innocent, and lend to servant girls in love a pen, which should + rather have described the illustrious men of Rome and commented on the + writings of the holy fathers. I earn two farthings for every love letter, + and it is a trade by which I rather die than live. But I do not forget + that Epictetus was a slave and Pyrrho a gardener. + </p> + <p> + “Just now, unexpectedly, I have been paid a whole crown for an anonymous + letter. I have not had anything to eat for two days. Therefore I at once + looked out for a cook-shop. From outside in the street I perceived your + illuminated sign and the fire of your chimney throwing joyful flaming + lights on the windows. On your threshold I smelt delicious odours. I came + in, and now, my dear host, you have the history of my life.” + </p> + <p> + “I have become aware that it is the life of a good man,” said my father, + “and with the exception of Colas’ cow there is hardly anything to complain + of. Give me your hand! We are friends, what’s your name?” + </p> + <p> + “Jérôme Coignard, doctor of divinity, master of arts.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV + </h2> + <p> + The Pupil of M. Jérôme Coignard—I receive Lessons in Latin Greek and + Life. + </p> + <p> + The marvellous in the affairs of mankind is the concatenation of effects + and causes. M. Jérôme Coignard was quite right in saying: “To consider + that strange following of bounds and rebounds wherein our destinies clash, + one is obliged to recognise that God in His perfection is in want neither + of mind nor of imagination nor comic force; on the contrary He excels in + imbroglio as in everything else, and if after having inspired Moses, David + and the Prophets He had thought it worth while to inspire M. le Sage or + the interluders of a fair, He would dictate to them the most entertaining + harlequinade.” And in a similar way it occurred that I became a Latinist + because Friar Ange was taken by the watch and put into ecclesiastical + penance for having knocked down a cutler under the arbour of the <i>Little + Bacchus</i>. M. Jérôme Coignard kept his promise. He gave me lessons and, + finding me tractable and intelligent, he took pleasure in instructing me + in the ancient languages. + </p> + <p> + In but a few years he made me a tolerably good Latinist. + </p> + <p> + In memory of him I have conceived a gratitude which will not come to an + end but with my life. The obligation I am under to him is easily to be + conceived when I say that he neglected nothing to shape my heart and soul, + together with my intellect. He recited to me the “Maxims of Epictetus,” + the “Homilies of St Basil” and the “Consolations of Boethius.” By + beautiful extracts he opened to me the philosophy of the Stoics, but he + did not make it appear in its sublimity without showing its inferiority to + Christian philosophy. He was a subtle theologian and a good Catholic. His + faith remained whole on the ruins of his most beloved illusions, of his + most cherished hopes. His weaknesses, his errors, his faults, none of + which he ever tried to dissemble or to colour, have never shaken his + confidence in the Divine goodness. And to know him well, it must be known + that he took care of his eternal salvation on occasions when, to all + appearance, he cared the least about it. He imbued me with the principles + of an enlightened piety. He also endeavoured to attach me to virtue as + such, and to render it to me, so to say, homely and familiar by examples + drawn from the life of Zeno. + </p> + <p> + To make me acquainted with the dangers of vice, he went for arguments to + the nearest fountain-head, confessing to me that by having loved wine and + women too much, he had lost the honour of taking the professor’s chair of + a college in long gown and square cap. + </p> + <p> + To these rare merits he joined constancy and assiduity, and he gave his + lessons with an exactitude hardly to be expected of a man given as he was + to the freaks of a strolling life, and always carried away by a luck less + doctoral than picaresque. This zeal was the effect of his kindness and + also of his liking of that good St James’s Street, where he found occasion + to satisfy equally the appetites of his body and intellect. After having + given me, during a succulent repast, some profitable lesson, he indulged + in a stroll to the <i>Little Bacchus</i> and the <i>Image of St Catherine</i>, + finding in that narrow piece of ground that which was his paradise—fresh + wine and books. + </p> + <p> + He became a constant visitor of M. Blaizot the bookseller, who received + him well, notwithstanding that he only used to thumb the books without + ever making the smallest purchase. And it was quite marvellous to see my + good teacher in the most remote part of the shop, his nose closely buried + in some little book recently arrived from Holland, suddenly raising his + head to discourse, as it might happen, with the same abundant and laughing + knowledge, on the plans of an universal monarchy attributed to the late + king, or, it may be, to the <i>aventures galantes</i> of a financier with + a ballet girl. M. Blaizot was never tired of listening to him. This M. + Blaizot was a little old man, dry and neat, in flea-coloured coat and + breeches and grey woollen stockings. I admired him very much, and could + not think of anything more glorious than, like him, to sell books at the + <i>Image of St Catherine</i>. + </p> + <p> + One recollection of mine gave to M. Blaizot’s shop quite a mysterious + charm. It was there, I was still very young, I saw for the first time the + nude figure of a female. I can see her now. It was an Eve in an + illustrated Bible. Her stomach was rather big, her legs were rather short, + and she held converse with a serpent in a Dutch landscape. The proprietor + of this engraving inspired me with a consideration which grew afterwards + when I took, thanks to M. Coignard, a great liking for books. + </p> + <p> + At the age of sixteen I knew Latin pretty well, and also a little Greek. + My good teacher said to my father: + </p> + <p> + “Do you not think, my dear host, that it is rather an indecency to let a + young Ciceronian go about dressed as a scullion?” + </p> + <p> + “I never thought of it,” replied my father. + </p> + <p> + “It is true,” said mother, “that it would be suitable to give our son a + dimity vest. He is of an agreeable appearance, has good manners and is + well taught. He will do honour to his dress.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment my father remained thoughtful and then he asked if it would + be quite suitable for a cook to wear a dimity vest. But M. Coignard + reminded him that, being suckled by the Muses, I would never become a + cook, and that the time was not far off when I should wear a clerical + neckband. + </p> + <p> + My father sighed, thinking that never would I be the banner-bearer of the + Guild of Parisian Cooks, and my mother became quite glittering with + pleasure and pride at the idea of her son belonging to the Church. + </p> + <p> + The first effect my dimity vest produced was to give me a certain + confidence in myself, and to encourage me to get a more complete idea of + women than the one I had from the Eve of M. Blaizot. I reasonably thought + first on Jeannette the hurdy-gurdy player, and on Catherine the lacemaker, + both of whom I saw pass our shop twenty times a day, showing when it + rained, a fine ankle and a tiny foot, the toes of which turned from one + stone to the other. Jeannette was not so pretty as Catherine. She was + somewhat older and less well dressed. She came from Savoy and did her hair + <i>en marmotte</i>, with a checked kerchief covering her head. But her + merit was, not to stick to ceremony and to understand what was wanted of + her without being spoken to. This character agreed well with my timidity. + One evening under the porch of St Benoît le Bétourné, where there are + stone seats all round, she taught me what till then I had not known, but + which she had known for a long time. + </p> + <p> + But I was not so grateful to her as it should have been my duty to be, and + thought of nothing else but to bring the science she had taught me to + others, prettier ones. As an excuse for my ingratitude I ought to say that + Jeannette the hurdy-gurdy player did not value her lessons any higher than + I did myself, and that she willingly gave them to every ragamuffin of the + district. + </p> + <p> + Catherine was of more reserved manners. I stood in awe of her and did not + dare to tell her how pretty I considered her to be. She made me doubly + uncomfortable by making game of me and not losing a single occasion of + jeering at me. She teased me by reproaching my chin for being hairless. I + blushed over it and wished to be swallowed by the earth. On seeing her I + affected a sullen mien and chagrin. I pretended to scorn her. But she was + really too pretty for my scorn to be true. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V + </h2> + <p> + My Nineteenth Birthday—Its Celebration and the Entrance of M. + d’Asterac. + </p> + <p> + On that night, the night of Epiphany and the nineteenth anniversary of my + birth, the sky poured down with the melting snow a cold ill-humour, + penetrating to the bone, while an icy wind made the signboard of the <i>Queen + Pédauque</i> grate, a clear fire, perfumed by goose grease, sparkled in + the shop and the soup steamed in the tureen on the table; round which M. + Jérôme Coignard, my father and myself were seated. My mother, as was her + habit, stood behind her husband’s chair, ready to serve him. He had + already filled the priest’s dish when, through the suddenly open door, we + saw Friar Ange, very pale, the nose red, the beard soaked. In his surprise + my father elevated the soup ladle up to the smoked beams of the ceiling. + </p> + <p> + My father’s surprise was easily explained. Friar Ange, after his fight + with the cutler, had at first disappeared for a lapse of six months, and + now two whole years had passed without his giving any sign of life. On a + certain day in spring he went off with a donkey laden with relics, and, + worse still, he had taken with him Catherine dressed as a nun. Nobody knew + what had become of them, but there was a rumour at the <i>Little Bacchus</i> + that the little friar and the little sister had had some sort of + difference with the authorities between Tours and Orleans. Without + forgetting that one of the vicars of St Benoît shouted everywhere, and + like one possessed, that that rascal of a Capuchin had stolen his donkey. + </p> + <p> + “What,” exclaimed my father, “this rogue does not lie in a dungeon? There + is then no more justice in this kingdom.” + </p> + <p> + But Friar Ange recited the <i>Benedicite</i> and made the sign of the + cross over the soup-tureen. + </p> + <p> + “Hola!” continued my father. “Peace to all cant, my beautiful monk! + Confess that you have passed in an ecclesiastical prison at least one of + the two years that your Beelzebub-face has not been seen in our parish. + James Street has been more honest for your absence and the whole quarter + of the town more respectable. Look on that fine Olibrius, who goes into + the fields with the donkey of someone and the girl of everyone.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe,” replied Friar Ange, eyes on the ground and hands in his sleeves. + “Maybe, Master Léonard, you have Catherine in mind. I have had the + happiness to convert her to a better life, so much and so well that she + ardently wished to follow me, and the relics I was carrying, and to go + with me on some nice pilgrimage, especially to the Black Virgin of + Chartres! I consented under the condition that she clad herself in + ecclesiastical dress, which she did without a murmur.” + </p> + <p> + “Hold your tongue!” replied my father, “you are a dissipated fellow. You + have no respect for your cloth. Return to where you came from and look, if + you please, in the street, if Queen Pédauque is suffering from + chilblains.” + </p> + <p> + But my mother made the friar a sign to sit down under the chimney-mantel, + which he softly did. + </p> + <p> + “One has to forgive much to Capuchins,” said the abbé, “because they sin + without malice.” + </p> + <p> + My father begged of M. Coignard not to speak any more of the breed, the + name alone of which burnt his ears. + </p> + <p> + “Master Léonard,” said the priest, “philosophy conducts the soul to + clemency. As far as I am concerned I willingly give absolution to knaves, + rogues and rascals and all the wretched. And more, I owe no grudge to good + people, though in their case there is much insolence. And if, Master + Léonard, like myself, you should have been familiar with respectable + people, you would know that they are not a rap better than the others, and + are often of a less agreeable companionship. I have been seated at the + third table of the Bishop of Séez and two attendants, both clad in black, + were at my sides: constraint and weariness.” + </p> + <p> + “It must be acknowledged,” said my mother, “that the servants of his Grace + had some queer names. Why did he not call them Champagne, Olive or Frontin + as is usual?” + </p> + <p> + The priest continued: + </p> + <p> + “It’s true, certain persons get easily accustomed to the inconveniences to + be borne by living with the great. There was at the second table of the + bishop a very polite canon who kept on ceremony till his last moment. When + the news of his bodily decline reached the bishop he went to his room and + found him dying. ‘Alas,’ said the canon, ‘I beg your Grace’s pardon to be + obliged to die before your eyes.’ ‘Do, do! Don’t mind me,’ said the bishop + with the utmost kindness.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment my mother brought the roast and put it on the table with a + movement of homely gravity which caused my father some emotion; with his + mouth full he shouted: + </p> + <p> + “Barbe, you’re a holy and worthy woman.” + </p> + <p> + “Mistress,” said my dear teacher, “is as a fact to be compared to the + strong women of the scripture. She is a godly wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank God!” said my mother, “I have never been a traitor to the + faithfulness I owe unto Léonard Ménétrier, my husband, and I reckon well, + now that the most difficult part is passed, not to fail him till my last + hour is come. I wish he would keep his faith to me as I keep mine to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Madam, when first I looked on you I could see you to be an honest woman,” + replied the priest, “because I have experienced near you a quietude more + connected with heaven than with this world.” + </p> + <p> + My mother, who was simple-minded, but not stupid, understood very well + what he wanted to say, and replied that if he had known her twenty years + ago, he would have found her to be quite another than she had become in + this cookshop, where her good looks had vanished with the fire of the spit + and the fumes of the dishes. And as she was touched she mentioned that the + baker at Auneau had found her to be so much to his liking that he had + offered her cakes every time she passed his shop. “Besides,” she added + angrily, “there is neither girl nor woman ugly enough to be incapable of + doing wrong if she had a fancy to do it.” + </p> + <p> + “This good woman is right,” said my father. “I remember when I was a + prentice at the cookshop of the <i>Royal Goose</i> near the Gate of St + Denis, my master, who was then the banner-bearer of the guild, as I myself + am to-day, said to me: ‘I’ll never be a cuckold, my wife is too ugly.’ + This saying gave me the idea to attempt what he thought to be impossible. + I succeeded at my first attempt, one morning when he went to La Vallée. He + spoke the truth, his wife was very ugly, but high spirited and grateful.” + </p> + <p> + At this anecdote my mother broke out and said that such things ought not + to be told by a father to his wife and son, if he wanted to have their + respect. + </p> + <p> + M. Jérôme Coignard, seeing her become red with anger, changed the + conversation with kindly meant ability. He addressed himself abruptly to + Friar Ange, who, hands in his sleeves, sat humbly at the corner of the + fireside: + </p> + <p> + “Little friar, what kind of relics did you carry on the second vicar’s + donkey’s back in company with Sister Catherine? Was it your small clothes + you gave the devotees to kiss, in the manner of some grey friars, of whom + Henry Estienne has narrated the adventures?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! your reverence,” meekly said Friar Ange with the expression of a + martyr suffering for truth, “it was not my small clothes, it was a foot of + St Eustache.” + </p> + <p> + “I should have taken my oath on it, if it would not be a sin to do so,” + exclaimed the priest, brandishing the drumstick of a fowl. “Those + Capuchins turn out saints utterly ignored by good authors, who work on + ecclesiastical history. Neither Tillemont nor Fleury speak of that St + Eustache to whom a church is consecrated, very wrongly, at Paris, when so + many saints recognised by writers well deserving to be believed, are still + waiting for a similar honour. The ‘Life of St Eustache’ is a tissue of + ridiculous fables; the same is the case of that of St Catherine, who has + never existed except in the imagination of some wicked Byzantine monk. But + I do not want to attack her too hardly, as he is the patroness of men of + letters, and serves as a signboard to the bookshop of that good M. + Blaizot, which is the most delectable abode in this world.” + </p> + <p> + “I also had,” continued quickly the little friar, “a rib of St Mary the + Egyptian.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Ah!’” shouted the priest, throwing the chicken bone across the room, + “concerning this one, I do consider her to be very, very holy, as during + her lifetime she gave a fine example of humility.” + </p> + <p> + “You know, madam,” he said and took mother’s sleeve, “that St Mary the + Egyptian, going on pilgrimage to the sepulchre of our Lord, was stopped by + a deep flowing river, and not possessing a single farthing to pay for the + passage on the ferry-boat she offered to the boatmen her own body as a + payment. What do you say to that, my good mistress?” + </p> + <p> + First of all my mother asked if the story was quite true. After she had + been assured that the matter had been printed in a book and painted on a + stained window in the Church of La Jussienne she believed it. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” she said, “that one has to be as holy as she was to do the like + without committing a sin. I must say that I should not like to do it.” + </p> + <p> + “As far as I am concerned,” said the priest, “I approve of the conduct of + that saint, quite in accord with the most subtle doctors. It is a lesson + for honest women stubborn in too much pride of their haughty virtue. + Thinking well over it there is some sensuality in prizing too highly the + flesh and guarding excessively what one ought to despise. There are some + matrons to be met with who believe they have a treasure and who visibly + exaggerate the interest God and the angels may have in them. They believe + themselves to be a kind of natural Holy Sacrament. St Mary the Egyptian + was a better judge. Pretty and divinely shaped as she was, she considered + that it would be all too proud of her flesh to stop in the course of a + holy pilgrimage for a paltry indifferent reason which is no more than a + piece of mortification and far from being a precious jewel. She humbled + herself, madam, and entered by using so admirable a humility the road of + penitence, where she accomplished marvellous works.” + </p> + <p> + “Your reverence,” said my mother, “I do not understand you. You are too + learned for me.” + </p> + <p> + “That grand saint.” said Friar Ange, “is painted in a state of nature in + the chapel of my convent, and by the grace of God all her body is covered + with long and thick hair. Reproductions of this picture have been printed, + and I’ll bring you a fully blessed one, my dear madam.” + </p> + <p> + Tenderly touched, my mother passed the soup-tureen to him, behind the back + of my teacher. And the holy friar, seated on the cinder board, silently + soaked his bread in the savoury liquid. + </p> + <p> + “Now is the moment,” said my father, “to uncork one of those bottles which + I keep in reserve for the great feasts, which are Christmas, Twelfth + Night, and St Laurence’s Day. Nothing is more agreeable than to drink a + good wine quietly at home secure of unwelcome intruders.” + </p> + <p> + Hardly had these words been uttered when the door was opened and a tall + man in black entered the shop in a squall of snow and wind exclaiming: + </p> + <p> + “A Salamander! A Salamander!” + </p> + <p> + And without taking notice of anyone he bent over the grate, rummaging in + the cinders with the end of his walking stick, very much to the detriment + of Friar Ange, who coughed fit to give up the ghost, swallowing the ashes + and coal-dust thrown into his soup plate. And the man in black still + continued to rummage in the fire, shouting, “A Salamander! I see a + Salamander!” while the stirred-up flames made the shadow of his bodily + form tremble on the ceiling like a large bird of prey. + </p> + <p> + My father was surprised and rather annoyed by the manners of the visitor. + But he knew how to restrain himself. And so he rose, his napkin under his + arm, and went to the fireplace, bending to the hearth, both his fists on + his thighs. + </p> + <p> + When he had sufficiently considered the disordered fireplace, and Friar + Ange covered with ashes, he said: + </p> + <p> + “Your lordship will excuse me. I cannot see anything but this paltry monk, + and no Salamander. + </p> + <p> + “Besides,” my father went on, “I have but little regret over it. I have it + from hearsay that it is an ugly beast, hairy and horned, with big claws.” + </p> + <p> + “What an error!” replied the man in black. “Salamanders resemble women, + or, to speak precisely, nymphs, and they are perfectly beautiful! But I + feel myself rather a simpleton to ask you if you’re able to see this one. + One has to be a philosopher to see a Salamander, and I do not think + philosophers could be found in this kitchen.” + </p> + <p> + “You may be mistaken, sir,” said the Abbé Coignard. “I am a Doctor of + Divinity and Master of Arts. I have also studied the Greek and Latin + moralists, whose maxims have strengthened my soul in the vicissitudes of + my life, and I have particularly applied Boethius as an antidote for the + evils of existence. And here near me is Jacobus Tournebroche, my disciple, + who knows the sentences of Publius Syrus by heart.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger turned his yellow eyes on the priest, eyes strangely marked + over a nose like the beak of an eagle, and excused himself with more + courtesy than his fierce mien led one to expect, for not having at once + recognised a person of merit, and further he said: + </p> + <p> + “It is very likely that this Salamander has come for you or your pupil. I + saw it very distinctly in passing along the street before this cookshop. + She would appear better if the fire were fiercer; for this reason it is + necessary to stir the fire vigorously when you believe A Salamander to be + in it.” + </p> + <p> + At the first movement the stranger made to rummage again in the fire, + Friar Ange anxiously covered the soup-tureen with a flap of his frock and + shut his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said the Salamander-man, “allow your young pupil to approach the + fireplace to say if he does not see something resembling a woman hovering + over the flames.” + </p> + <p> + At this very moment the smoke rising under the slab of the chimney bent + itself with a peculiar gracefulness, and formed rotundities quite likely + to be taken for well-arched loins by a rather strangely strained + imagination. Therefore I did not tell an absolute lie by saying that, + maybe, I saw something. + </p> + <p> + No sooner had I given this reply than the stranger, raising his huge arm, + gave me a straight hander on the shoulder so powerful that I thought my + collar-bone was broken. But at once he said to me, with a very sweet voice + and a benevolent look: + </p> + <p> + “My child, I have been obliged to give you so strong an impression that + you may never forget that you have seen a Salamander, which is a sign that + your destiny is to become a learned man, perhaps a magician. Your face + also made me surmise favourably of your intelligence.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said my mother, “he learns anything he wants to know and he’ll be a + priest if it pleases our Lord.” + </p> + <p> + M. Jérôme Coignard added that I had profited in a certain way by his + lessons, and my father asked the stranger if his lordship would not be + disposed to eat a morsel. + </p> + <p> + “I am not in want of anything,” said the stranger, “and it’s easy for me + to go without any food for a year or longer because of a certain elixir + the composition of which is known only to the philosophical. This faculty + is not confined to myself alone, it is the common property of all wise + men, and it is known that the illustrious Cardan went without food during + several years without being incommoded by it. On the contrary his mind + became singularly vivacious. But still I’ll eat what it pleases you to + offer me, simply to please you.” + </p> + <p> + And he took a seat at our little table without any ceremony. At once Friar + Ange also noiselessly pushed his stool between mine and that of my teacher + and sat on it to receive his portion of the partridge pie my mother was + dishing up. + </p> + <p> + The philosopher having thrown his cape over the back of his seat, we could + see that he wore diamond buttons on his coat. He remained thoughtful. The + shadow of his nose fell on his mouth and his hollow cheeks went deep into + his jaws. His gloomy humour took possession of the whole company. No other + noise was audible but the one made by the little friar munching his pie. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the philosopher said: + </p> + <p> + “The more I think it over, the more I am convinced that yonder Salamander + came for this lad.” And he pointed his knife at me. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” I replied, “if the Salamanders are really as you say, this one + honours me very much, and I am truly obliged to her. But, to say the + truth, I have rather guessed than seen her, and this first encounter has + only awakened my curiosity without giving me full satisfaction.” + </p> + <p> + Unable to speak at his ease, my good teacher was suffocating. Suddenly, + breaking out very loud, he said to the philosopher: + </p> + <p> + “Sir, I am fifty-one years old, a master of arts and a doctor of divinity. + I have read all the Greek and Latin authors, who have not been annihilated + either by time’s injury or by man’s malice, and I have never seen a + Salamander, wherefrom I conclude that no such thing exists.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me,” said Friar Ange, half suffocated by partridge pie and half by + dismay; “excuse me! Unhappily some Salamanders do exist and a learned + Jesuit father, whose name I have forgotten, has discoursed on their + apparition. I myself have seen, at a place called St Claude, at a + cottager’s, a Salamander in a fireplace close to a kettle. She had a cat’s + head, a toad’s body and the tail of a fish. I threw a handful of holy + water on the beast, and it at once disappeared in the air, with a + frightful noise like sudden frying and I was enveloped in acrid fumes, + which very nearly burnt my eyes out. And what I say is so true that for at + least a whole week my beard smelt of burning, which proves better than + anything else the maliciousness of the beast.” + </p> + <p> + “You want to make game of us, little friar,” said the abbé. “Your toad + with a cat’s head is no more real than the Nymph of that gentleman, and it + is quite a disgusting invention.” + </p> + <p> + The philosopher began to laugh, and said Friar Ange had not seen the wise + man’s Salamander. When the Nymphs of the fire meet with a Capuchin they + turn their back on him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Oh!” said my father, bursting out laughing, “the back of a Nymph is + still too good for a Capuchin.” + </p> + <p> + And being in a good humour, he sent a mighty slice of the pie to the + little friar. + </p> + <p> + My mother placed the roast in the middle of the table, and took advantage + of it to ask if the Salamanders are good Christians, of which she had her + doubts, as she had never heard that the inhabitants of fire praised the + Lord. + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” replied my teacher, “several theologians of the Society of Jesus + have recognised the existence of a people of incubus and succubus who are + not properly demons, because they do not let themselves be routed by an + aspersion of holy water and who do not belong to the Church Triumphant; + glorified spirits would never have attempted, as has been the case at + Perouse, to seduce the wife of a baker. But if you wish for my opinion, + they are rather the dirty imaginations of a sneak than the views of a + doctor. + </p> + <p> + “You must hate and bewail that sons of the Church, born in light, could + conceive of the world and of God a less sublime idea than that formed by a + Plato or a Cicero in the night of ignorance and of paganism. God is less + absent, I dare say, from the Dream of Scipio than from those black + tractates of demonology the authors of which call themselves Christians + and Catholics.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” replied the priest, “I found a very old MS. of Cicero spoke with + effluence and facility, but he was but a commonplace intellect, and not + very learned in holy sciences. Have you ever heard of Hermes Trismegistus + and of the Emerald Table?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” replied the priest, “I found a very old MS. of the Emerald Table in + the library of the Bishop of Séez, and I should have marvelled over it one + day or another, but for the chamber-maid of the bailiff’s lady who went to + Paris to make her fortune and who made me ride in the coach with her. + There was no witchcraft used, Sir Philospher, and I only succumbed to + natural charms: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Non facit hoc verbis; facie tenerisque lacertis + Devovet et flavis nostra puella comis.’” + </pre> + <p> + “That’s a new proof,” said the philosopher, “women are great enemies of + science, and the wise man ought to keep himself aloof from them.” + </p> + <p> + “In legitimate marriage also?” inquired my father. + </p> + <p> + “Especially in legitimate marriage,” replied the philosopher. + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” my father continued to question, “what remains to your poor wise + men when they feel disposed for a little fun?” + </p> + <p> + The philosopher replied: + </p> + <p> + “There remains for them the Salamanders.” + </p> + <p> + At these words Friar Ange raised a frightened nose over his plate and + murmured: + </p> + <p> + “Don’t speak like that, my good sir; in the name of all the saints of my + order, do not speak like that! And do not forget that the Salamander is + naught but the devil, who assumes, as everyone knows, the most divergent + forms, pleasant now and then when he succeeds in disguising his natural + ugliness, hideous sometimes when he shows his true constitution.” + </p> + <p> + “Take care on your part, Friar Ange,” replied the philosopher, “and as + you’re afraid of the devil, don’t offend him too much and do not excite + him against you by inconsiderate tittle-tattle. You know that this old + Adversary, this powerful Contradictor, has kept, in the spiritual world, + such a power, that God Almighty Himself reckons with him. I’ll say more, + God, who was in fear of him, made him His business man. Be on your guard, + little friar, the two understand one another.” + </p> + <p> + In listening to this speech, the poor Capuchin thought he heard and saw + the devil himself, whom the stranger resembled, pretty near, by his fiery + eyes, his hooked nose, his black complexion and his long and thin body. + His soul, already astonished, became engulfed in a kind of holy terror, + feeling on him the claws of the Malignant, he began to tremble in all his + limbs, hastily put in his wide pockets all the decent eatables he could + get hold of, rose gently and reached the door by backward steps, muttering + exorcisms all the while. + </p> + <p> + The philosopher did not take any notice of this. He took from his pocket a + little book covered with horny parchment, which he opened and presented to + my dear teacher and myself. It contained an old Greek text, full of + abbreviations and ligatures which at first gave me the effect of an + illegible scrawl. But M. Coignard, having put on his barnacles and placed + the book at the necessary distance, began to read the characters easily; + they looked more like balls of thread that had been unrolled by a kitten + than the simple and quiet letters of my St John Chrysostom, out of which I + studied the language of Plato and the New Testament. Having come to the + end of his reading he said: + </p> + <p> + “Sir, this passage is to be translated as: <i>Those of the Egyptians who + are well informed study first the writings called epistolographia, then + the hieratic, of which the hierogrammatists make use, and finally the + hieroglyphics.</i>” + </p> + <p> + And then taking off his barnacles and shaking them triumphantly he + continued: + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Ah! Master Philosopher, I am not to be taken as a greenhorn. This is + an extract of the fifth book of the <i>Stromata</i>, the author of which, + Clement of Alexandria, is not mentioned in the martyrology, for different + reasons, which His Holiness Benedict XI. has indicated, the principal of + which is, that this Father was often erroneous in matters of faith. It may + be supposed that this exclusion was not sensibly felt by him, if one takes + into consideration what philosophical estrangement had during his lifetime + inspired this martyr. He gave preference to <i>exile</i> and took care to + save his persecutors a crime, because he was a very honest man. His style + of writing was not elegant; his genius was lively, his morals were pure, + even austere. He had a very pronounced liking for allegories and for + lettuces.” + </p> + <p> + The philosopher extended his arm, which seemed to me to be remarkably + elongated as it reached right over the whole of the table, to take back + the little book from the hands of my learned tutor. + </p> + <p> + “It is sufficient,” he said, pushing the <i>Stromata</i> back into his + pocket. “I see, reverend sir, that you understand Greek, You have well + translated this passage, at least in a vulgar and literal sense. I intend + to make your and your pupil’s fortune; I’ll employ both of you to + translate at my house the Greek texts I have received from Egypt.” + </p> + <p> + And turning towards my father, he continued: + </p> + <p> + “I think, Master Cook, you will consent to let me have your son to make + him a learned man and a great one. Should it be too much for your fatherly + love to give him entirely to me, I would pay out of my own pocket for a + scullion as his substitute in your cookshop.” + </p> + <p> + “As your lordship understands it like that,” replied my father, “I shall + not prevent you doing good to my son.” + </p> + <p> + “Always under the condition,” said my mother, “that it is not to be at the + expense of his soul. You’ll have to affirm on your oath to me that you are + a good Christian.” + </p> + <p> + “Barbe,” said my father, “you are a holy and worthy woman, but you oblige + me to make my excuses to this gentleman for your want of politeness, which + is caused less, to say the truth, by the natural disposition, which is a + good one, than by your neglected education.” + </p> + <p> + “Let the good woman have her say,” remarked the philosopher, “and let her + be reassured; I am a very religious man.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s right!” exclaimed my mother. “One has to worship the holy name of + God.” + </p> + <p> + “I worship all His names, my good lady. He has more than one. He is called + Adonai, Tetragrammaton, Jehovah, Otheres, Athanatos and Schyros. And there + are many more names.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not know,” said my mother. “But what you say, sir, does not + surprise me; I have remarked that people of condition have always more + names than the lower people. I am a native of Auneau, near the town of + Chartres, and I was but a child when the lord of our village left this + world for another. I remember very well when the herald proclaimed the + demise of the late lord, he gave him nearly as many names as you find in + the All Saints litany. I willingly believe that God has more names than + the Lord of Auneau had, as His condition is a much higher one. Learned + people are very happy to know them all, and if you will advance my son + Jacques in this knowledge I shall, my dear sir, be very much obliged to + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, the matter is understood,” said the philosopher, “and you, reverend + sir, I trust it will please you to translate from the Greek, for salary, + let it be understood.” + </p> + <p> + My good tutor, who was collecting all this while the few thoughts in his + brain which were not already desperately mixed up with the fumes of wine, + refilled his goblet, rose and said: + </p> + <p> + “Sir Philosopher, I heartily accept your generous offer. You are one of + the splendid mortals; it is an honour, sir, for me to be yours. If there + are two kinds of furniture I hold in high esteem, they are the bed and the + table. The table, filled up by turns with erudite books and succulent + dishes, serves as support to the nourishment both of body and spirit; the + bed propitious for sweet repose as well as for cruel love. He certainly + was a divine fellow who gave to the sons of Deucalion bed and table. If I + find with you, sir, those two precious pieces of furniture, I’ll follow + your name, as that of my benefactor, with immortal praise, and I’ll + celebrate you in Greek and Latin verses of all sorts of metres.” + </p> + <p> + So he said, and drank deeply. + </p> + <p> + “That’s well,” replied the philosopher. “I’ll expect both of you to-morrow + morning at my house. You will follow the road to St Germain till you come + to the Cross of the Sablons, from that cross you’ll count one hundred + paces, going westward, and you’ll find a small green door in a garden + wall. You’ll use the knocker which represents a veiled figure having a + finger in her mouth. An old follower will open the door to you; you’ll ask + to see M. d’Asterac.” + </p> + <p> + “My son,” said my good tutor, pulling my coat sleeve, “put all that in + your memory, put cross, knocker, and the rest, so that we’ll be able to + find, to-morrow, the enchanted door. And you, Sir Mæcenas——” + </p> + <p> + But the philosopher was gone. No one had seen him leaving. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI + </h2> + <h3> + Arrival at the Castle of M. d’Asterac and Interview with the Cabalist. + </h3> + <p> + On the following day at an early hour we walked, my tutor and I, on the St + Germain road. The snow which covered the earth under the russet light of + the sky, rendered the atmosphere dull and heavy. The road was deserted. We + walked in wide furrows between the walls of orchards, tottering fences and + low houses, the windows of which looked suspiciously on us. And, after + having left behind two or three tumbledown huts built of clay and straw, + we saw in the middle of a disconsolate heath the Cross of the Sablons. At + fifty paces farther commenced a very large park, closed in by a ruined + wall, wherein was the little door, and on it the knocker representing a + horrible-looking figure with a finger in her mouth. We recognised it + easily as the one the philosopher had described, and used the knocker. + </p> + <p> + After some rather considerable time, an old servant opened it and made us + a sign to follow him across the untidy park. Statues of nymphs, who must + have seen the boyhood of the late king, secreted under tree ivy their + gloominess and mutilations. At the end of an alley, the sloughs of which + were covered with snow, stood a castle of stone and brick, as morose as + the one of Madrid, which, oddly covered by a high slate roof, looked like + the castle of the Sleeping Beauty in the wood. + </p> + <p> + Following the silent valet, M. Coignard whispered to me: + </p> + <p> + “I confess, my son, that this lodging has no smiling appearance. It shows + the ruggedness wherein the customs of Frenchmen were still immured in the + time of King Henry IV., and it drives the soul to gloom and nearly to + melancholy by the state of forlornness in which unhappily it has been + left. How much sweeter it would be to climb the enchanted hillocks of + Tusculum with the hope of hearing Cicero discourse of virtue, under the + firs and pines of his villa so dear to the philosopher! And have you not + observed, my boy, that all along yonder road neither taverns nor hostels + are to be met with, and that it would be necessary to cross the bridge and + go up the hill to the Bergères to get a drink of fresh wine? There is + thereabout a hostel of the <i>Red Horse</i>, where, if I remember well, + Madame de St Ernest took me once to dinner in the company of her monkey + and her lover. You can’t imagine, Tournebroche, how excellent the victuals + are there. The <i>Red Horse</i> is as well known for its morning dinners + as for the abundance of horses and carriages which it has on hire. I + convinced myself of it when I followed to the stables a certain wench who + seemed to be rather pretty. But she was not; it would be a truer saying to + call her ugly. But I illuminated her with the colours of my longings. Such + is the condition of men when left to themselves; they err wretchedly. We + are all abused by empty images; we go in chase of dreams and embrace + shadows. In God alone is truth and stability.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile we ascended, behind the old servant, the disjointed flight of + steps. + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” said my tutor, “I begin to regret your father’s cookshop, where we + ate such good morsels while explaining Quintilian.” + </p> + <p> + After having scaled the first flight of large stone stairs, we were + introduced into a saloon, where M. d’Asterac was occupied with writing + near a big fire, in the midst of Egyptian coffins of human form raised + against the walls, their lids painted with sacred figures and golden faces + with long glossy eyes. + </p> + <p> + Politely M. d’Asterac invited us to be seated and said: + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen, I expected you. And as you have both kindly consented to do me + the favour of staying with me, I beg of you to consider this house as your + own. You’ll be occupied in translating Greek texts I have brought back + with me from Egypt. I have no doubt you will do your best to accomplish + this task when you know that it is connected with the work I have + undertaken, to discover the lost science by which man will be + re-established in his original power over the elements. I have no + intention of raising the veil of nature and showing you Isis in her + dazzling nudity; but I will entrust you with the object of my studies + without fear that you’ll betray the mystery, because I have confidence in + your integrity and also in the power I have to guess and to forestall all + that may be attempted against me and to dispose for my vengeance of secret + and terrible forces. From the defaults of a fidelity, of which I do not + doubt; my power, gentlemen, assures me of your silence. + </p> + <p> + “Know then that man came out of Jehovah’s hands with that perfect + knowledge he has since lost. He was very powerful and very wise when he + was created, that’s to be seen in the books of Moses. But it’s necessary + to understand them. Before all it is clear that Jehovah is not God, but a + grand Demon, because he has created this world. The idea of a God both + perfect and creative is but a reverie of a barbarity worthy of a Welshman + or a Saxon. As little polished as one’s mind may be one cannot admit that + a perfect being tags anything to his own perfection, be it a hazelnut. + That’s common sense; God has no understanding, as he is endless how could + he understand? He does not create, because he ignores time and space, + which are conditions indispensable to all constructions. Moses was too + good a philosopher to teach that the world was created by God. He took + Jehovah for what he really is—for a powerful Demon, or if he is to + be called anything, for the Demiurgos. + </p> + <p> + “It follows that Jehovah, creating man, gave him knowledge of the visible + and the invisible world. The fall of Adam and Eve, which I’ll explain to + you another day, had not fully destroyed that knowledge of the first man + and the first woman, who passed their teachings on to their children. + Those teachings, on which the domination of nature relies, have been + consigned to the book of Enoch. The Egyptian priests have kept the + tradition which they fixed with mysterious signs on the walls of the + temples and the coffins of the dead. Moses, brought up in the sanctuary of + Memphis, was one of the initiated. His books, numbering five, perhaps six, + contain like very precious archives the treasures of divine knowledge. + You’ll discover there the most beautiful secrets if you have cleared them + of the interpolations which dishonour them; one scorns the literal and + coarse sense, to attach oneself to the most subtle. I have penetrated to + the largest part, as it will appear to you also later on. Meanwhile, the + truth, kept like virgins in the temples of Egypt, passed to the wizards of + Alexandria, who enriched them still more and crowned them with all the + pure gold bequeathed to Greece by Pythagoras and his disciples, with whom + the forces of the air conversed familiarly. Wherefore, gentlemen, it is + convenient to explore the books of the Hebrews, the hieroglyphics of the + Egyptians and those treatises of the Greeks which are called Gnostic + precisely because they possessed knowledge. I reserve for myself, as is + quite equitable, the most arduous part of this extensive work. I apply + myself to decipher those hieroglyphics which the Egyptians used to + inscribe in the temples of their gods and on the graves of their priests. + Having brought over from Egypt a great number of those inscriptions, I + fathom their sense by means of a key I was able to discover with Clement + of Alexandria. + </p> + <p> + “The Rabbi Mosaïde, who lives in retirement with me, works on the + re-establishment of the true sense of the Pentateuch. He is an old man + very well versed in magic, who has lived seventeen years shut up in the + crypt of the Great Pyramid, where he read the books of Toth. Concerning + yourselves, gentlemen, I intend to employ your knowledge, in reading the + Alexandrian MSS. which I have collected myself in great numbers. There + you’ll find, no doubt, some marvellous secrets, and I do not doubt that + with the help of these three sources of light-the Egyptian, the Hebrew and + the Greek—I’ll soon acquire the means I still want, to command + absolutely nature, visible as well as invisible. Believe me I shall know + how to reward your services by making you in some way participators of my + power. + </p> + <p> + “I do not speak to you of a more vulgar means to recognise them. At the + point I have reached in my philosophical labours, money is for me but a + trifle.” + </p> + <p> + Arrived at this part of M. d’Asterac’s discourse my good tutor interrupted + by saying: + </p> + <p> + “Sir, I’ll not conceal from you that this very money, which seems to be a + trifle to you, is for myself a smarting anxiety, because I have + experienced that it is not easy to earn some and remain an honest man or + even otherwise. Therefore I should be thankful for the assurance you would + kindly give on that subject.” + </p> + <p> + M. d’Asterac, with a movement which seemed to remove an invisible object, + gave M. Jerome Coignard the wished-for assurance; for myself, curious as I + was of all I saw, I did not wish for anything better than to enter into a + new life. + </p> + <p> + At his master’s call, the old servant who had opened the door to us + appeared in the study. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” said our host, “I give you your liberty till dinner at noon. + Meanwhile I should be very much obliged to you for ascending to the rooms + I have had prepared for you, and let me know that there is nothing wanting + for your comfort. Criton will conduct you.” + </p> + <p> + Having assured himself that we were following him, silent Criton went out + and began to ascend the stairs. He went up to the roof timbers, then, + having taken some steps down a long passage, he indicated to us two very + clean rooms where fires sparkled. I could never have believed that a + castle as shattered on the outside, the front of which showed nothing but + cracked walls and dark windows, was as habitable in some of its inner + parts. My first care was to know where I was. Our rooms looked on the + fields, the view from them embraced the marshy slopes of the Seine, + extending up to the Calvary of Mont Valérien. Eyeing our furniture, I + could see, laid out on my bed, a grey coat, breeches to match and a sword. + On the carpet were buckle shoes neatly coupled, the heels joined and the + points separated just as if they had of themselves the sentiment of a fine + deportment. + </p> + <p> + I augured favourably of the liberality of our master, To do him honour, I + dressed very carefully and spread abundantly on my hair the powder a box + full of which I found on a small table. And very welcome were the laced + shirt and white stockings I discovered in one of the drawers of the chest. + </p> + <p> + Having put on shirt, stockings, breeches, vest and coat, I walked up and + down my room with hat under the arm, hand on the guard of my sword, + thinking all the time on the looking-glass, and regretting that Catherine, + the lace-maker, could not see me in such finery. + </p> + <p> + In this way I was occupied for a little while, when M. Jerome Coignard + came into my room with a new neckband and very respectable clerical garb. + </p> + <p> + “Tournebroche,” he exclaimed, “is it you, my boy? Never forget that you + owe these fine clothes to the knowledge I have given you. They fit a + humanist like yourself, as who says humanities says also elegance. But + look on me and say if I have a good mien. In this dress I consider myself + to be a very honest man. This M. d’Asterac seems to be tolerably + magnificent. It’s a pity he’s mad. Wise he is in one way, as he calls his + valet Criton, which means judge. And it’s very true that our valets are + the witnesses of all our actions. When Lord Verulam, Chancellor of + England, whose philosophy I esteem but little, entered the great hall to + be tried, his lackeys, who were clad with an opulence by which the + copiousness of the Chancellor’s household could be judged, rose to render + him due honour. Lord Verulam said to them: ‘Sit down, your rising is my + falling.’ As a fact, those knaves, by their extravagance, had pushed him + to ruin and compelled him to do things for which he was indicted as a + peculator. Tournebroche, my boy, always remember this misfortune of Lord + Verulam, Chancellor of England and author of the ‘Novum Organum.’ But to + return to that Sire d’Asterac, in whose service we are; it is a great pity + that he is a sorcerer and given to cursed science. You know, my boy, I + pride myself on my delicacy in matters of faith I find it hard to serve a + cabalist who turns our Holy Scriptures upside down under the pretext to + understand them better that way. However, if he is, as his name and speech + indicate, a Gascon nobleman, we have nothing to be afraid of. A Gascon may + make a contract with the devil and you may be sure that the devil will be + done.” + </p> + <p> + The dinner bell interrupted our conversation. + </p> + <p> + But while descending the stairs, my kind tutor said: “Tournebroche, my + boy, remember, during the whole meal, to follow all my movements, to + enable you to imitate them. Having dined at the third table of the Bishop + of Seez, I know how to do it. It’s a difficult art. It’s harder to dine + than to speak like a gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII + </h2> + <h3> + Dinner and Thoughts on Food + </h3> + <p> + We found in the dining-room a table laid for three, where M. d’Asterac + made us take our places. + </p> + <p> + Criton, who acted as butler, served us with jellies, and thick soup + strained a dozen times. But we could not see any joints. As well as we + could, my kind tutor and myself tried to hide our surprise. M. d’Asterac + guessed it and said: + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen, this is only an attempt, and may seem to you an unfortunate + one. I shall not persist in it. I’ll have some more customary dishes + served for you and I shall not disdain to partake of them. If the dishes I + offer you to-day are badly prepared, it is less the fault of my cook than + that of chemistry, which is still in its infancy. But they will at all + events give you an idea of what will be in the future. At present men eat + without philosophy. They do not nourish themselves like reasonable beings. + They do not think of such. But of what are they thinking? Most of them + live in stupidity and actually those who are capable of reflection occupy + their minds with silly things like controversies and poetry. Consider + mankind, gentlemen, at their meals since the far-away times when they + ceased their intercourse with Sylphs and Salamanders. Abandoned by the + genii of the air they grew heavy and dull in ignorance and barbarity + Without policy and without art they lived, nude and miserable, in caverns, + on the border of torrents or in the trees of the forest. The chase was + their only industry. After having surprised or captured by quickness a + timid animal, they devoured that prey still palpitating. + </p> + <p> + “They also fed on the flesh of their companions and infirm relatives; the + first sepulchres of human beings were living graves, famished and + insensible intestines. After long fierce centuries a divine man made his + appearance: the Greeks call him Prometheus. It cannot be doubted that this + sage had intercourse in the homes of the Nymphs with the Salamander folks. + He learnt of them and showed to the unhappy mortals the art of producing + and conserving fire. Of all the innumerable advantages that men have drawn + from this celestial present, one of the happiest was the possibility of + cooking food, and by this treatment, to render it lighter and more subtle. + And it’s in a large part due to the effect of a nourishment submitted to + the action of the flame that slowly and by degrees mankind became + intelligent, industrious, meditative and apt to cultivate the arts and + sciences. But that was only a first step, and it is grievous to think that + so many millions of years had to pass before a second step was made. From + the time when our ancestors toasted beasts’ quarters on fires of brambles + in the shelter of a rock, we have not made any true progress in cooking, + for sure, gentlemen, you cannot put a higher value on the inventions of + Lucullus and that gross pie to which Vitellius gave the name of Shield of + Minerva than on our roasts, patties, stews, our stuffed meats and all the + fricassees which still suffer from the ancient barbarity. + </p> + <p> + “At Fontainebleau, the king’s table, where a whole stag is dished up in + his skin and his antlers, presents to the eye of the philosopher a + spectacle as rude as that of the troglodytes, cowering round the smoking + cinders, gnawing horse bones. The brilliant paintings of the hall, the + guards, the richly clad officers, the musicians playing the melodies of + Lambert and Lulli in the gallery, the golden goblets, the silver plate, + the silken tablecloth, the Venetian glass, the chased epergnes full of + rare flowers, the heavy candlesticks—they cannot change, cannot lend + a dissimulating charm to the true nature of this unclean charnel-house, + where men and women assemble over animal bodies, broken bones and torn + meats to gloat greedily over them. Oh, what unphilosophical nourishment! + We swallow with stupid gluttony muscle, fat and intestines of beasts + without discerning in those substances such parts as are truly adapted to + our nourishment and those much more abundant which we ought to reject; and + we fill our stomach indiscriminately with good and bad, useful and + injurious. That’s the very point, where a separation is to be made, and, + if the whole medical faculty could boast of a chemist and philosopher, we + should no more be compelled to partake of such disgusting feasts. + </p> + <p> + “They would prepare for us, gentlemen, distilled meats, containing nothing + but what is in sympathy and affinity with our body. Nothing would be used + but the quintessence of oxen and pigs, the elixir of partridges and + capons, and all that is swallowed could be digested. I do not give up all + hope, gentlemen, of obtaining such results by thinking somewhat deeper + over chemistry and medicine than I have had leisure to do up till now.” + </p> + <p> + At these words of our host, M. Jérôme Coignard, raising his eyes over the + thin black broth in his plate, looked uneasily at M. d’Asterac, who + continued to say: + </p> + <p> + “But that would still be quite insufficient progress. No honest man can + eat animal flesh without disgust, and people cannot call themselves + refined as long as they keep slaughter-houses and butchers’ shops in their + towns. But the day will come when we shall know exactly the nourishing + elements contained in animal carcasses, and it will become possible to + extract those very same elements from bodies without life, and which will + furnish an abundance of them. Those bodies without life contain, as a + fact, all that is to be found in living beings, because the animal has + been built up by the vegetable, which has itself drawn the substance out + of the inert ground. + </p> + <p> + “Then people will feed on extracts of metal and mineral conveniently + treated by physicians. I have no doubt but that the taste of them will be + exquisite and the absorption salutary. Cookery will be done in retorts and + stills and alchemists will be our cooks. Are you not impatient, gentlemen, + to see such marvels? I promise them to you at a very near time. But you + are not able at present to unravel the excellent effects that they will + produce.” + </p> + <p> + “In truth, sir, I do not unravel them,” said my kind tutor, and had a long + draught of wine. + </p> + <p> + “If such is the case,” said M. d’Asterac, “listen to me for a moment. No + more burdened with slow digestions, mankind will become marvellously + active, their sight will become singularly piercing, and they will see the + ships gliding on the seas of the moon. Their understanding will be + clearer, their ways softer. They will greatly advance in their knowledge + of God and nature. + </p> + <p> + “But it also seems necessary to look forward on all the changes which + cannot fail to occur. Even the structure of the human body will be + modified. It is an uncontradictable fact that without exercise all organs + flatten and end by disappearing altogether. It has been observed that + fishes deprived of light become blind. I myself have seen in Valais that + shepherds who fed on curdled milk lost their teeth very early; some of + them never had any at all, When men feed on the balms I have spoken of, + their intestines will be shortened by ells and the volume of the stomach + will shrink considerably.” + </p> + <p> + “For once, sir,” said my tutor, “you go too quickly and risk making a mess + of it. I never considered it to be disagreeable when women get a little + corporation, especially if all the remainder of her body is well + proportioned. It’s a kind of beauty I’m rather partial to. Do not + transform it inconsiderately.” + </p> + <p> + “No matter, we’ll leave woman’s body and flanks formed after the canons of + the Greek sculptors. That will be to give you pleasure, reverend sir, and + also in due consideration of the labours of maternity. It is true, I + intend in that case also, to make several changes of which I’ll speak to + you on a future day. But to return to our subject. I have to acknowledge + that all I have till now predicted is nothing but a preparatory measure + for the real nourishment, which is that of the Sylphs and all aerial + spirits. They drink light, which is sufficient to give to their bodies + marvellous strength and subtility. It is their only potion, one day it + will be ours also. Nothing more is to be done than to render the rays of + the sun drinkable. I confess that I do not see with sufficient clearness + the means to arrive at it, and I do foresee many encumbrances and great + obstacles on the road. But whensoever some sage shall be able to do it, + mankind will be the equal of Sylphs and Salamanders in intelligence and + beauty.” + </p> + <p> + My good tutor listened to these words, folded in himself, his head sadly + lowered. He seemed to contemplate the changes to himself from the kind of + food imagined by our host. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” he said after a while, “did you not speak at yonder cookshop of an + elixir which dispenses with all kinds of food?” + </p> + <p> + “True, I did,” replied M. d’Asterac, “but that liquor is only good for + philosophers, and by that you may understand how restricted is the use of + it. It will be better not to mention it.” + </p> + <p> + One doubt tormented me. I asked leave of our host to submit it to him, + certain that he would enlighten me at once. He allowed me to speak and I + said: + </p> + <p> + “Sir, those Salamanders, who you say are so beautiful, and of whom, after + your relation, I have conceived a charming idea, have they unhappily + spoiled their teeth by light drinking, as the shepherds at Valais lost + theirs by feeding only on milk diet? I confess I am rather uneasy about + it.” + </p> + <p> + “My son,” replied M. d’Asterac, “your curiosity pleases me and I will + satisfy it. The Salamanders have no teeth that we should call such. But + their gums are furnished with two ranges of pearls, very white and very + brilliant, lending to their smiles an inconceivable gracefulness. You + should know that these pearls are light-hardened.” + </p> + <p> + I said to M. d’Asterac that I was glad it was so and he continued: + </p> + <p> + “Men’s teeth are a sign of ferocity. Once people are properly fed, their + teeth will give way to some ornament similar to the pearls of the + Salamander. Then it will become incomprehensible that a lover could, + without horror and disgust, contemplate dogs’ teeth in the mouth of his + beloved.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII + </h2> + <h3> + The Library and its Contents + </h3> + <p> + After dinner our host conducted us to a vast gallery adjoining his study; + it was the library. There were to be seen ranged on oaken shelves an + innumerable army, or rather a grand assembly, of books in duodecimo, in + octavo, in quarto, in folio, clad in calf, sheep, morocco leather, in + parchment and in pigskin. The light fell through six windows on this + silent assembly extended from one end of the hall to the other, all along + the high walls. Large tables, alternated with globes and astronomical + apparatus, occupied the middle of the gallery. M. d’Asterac told us to + make choice of the place most convenient for our work. + </p> + <p> + My dear tutor, his head high, with look and breath inhaled all these books + drivelling with joy. + </p> + <p> + “By Apollo!” he exclaimed, “what a splendid library! The Bishop of Séez’s, + over rich in works of canonical law, is not to be compared to this. There + is no pleasanter abode in my opinion, actually the Elysian Fields as + described by Virgil. At first sight I can discover such rare books and + precious collections that I have my doubts, sir, if any other private + library prevails over this, which is inferior in France only to the + Mazarin and the Royal. I dare say, seeing all these Greek and Latin MSS. + closely pressed together in this single corner, one may, after the + Bodleian, the Ambrosian, the Laurentinian and the Vatican also name, sir, + the Asteracian. Without flattering myself I may say that I smell truffles + and books at a long distance and I consider myself from now, to be the + equal of Peiresc, of Grolier and of Canevarius, who are the princes of + bibliophiles.” + </p> + <p> + “I consider myself to be over them,” said M. d’Asterac quietly, “as this + library is a great deal more precious than all those you have named. The + King’s Library is but an old bookshop in comparison with mine—that + is, if you do not consider the number of books only and the quantity of + blackened paper. Gabriel Naudé and your Abbé Bignon, both librarians of + fame, are, compared to me, indolent shepherds of a vile herd of sheep-like + books. I concede that the Benedictines are diligent, but they have no high + spirit and their libraries reveal the mediocrity of the souls by whom they + have been collected. My gallery, sir, is not on the pattern of others. The + works I have got together form a whole which doubtless will procure me + knowledge. My library is gnostic, oecumenic and spiritual. If all the + lines traced on those numberless sheets of paper and parchment could enter + in good order into your brain, you, sir, would know all, could do all, + would be the master of Nature, the plasmator of things, you would hold the + whole world between the two fingers of your hand as I now hold these + grains of tobacco.” + </p> + <p> + With these words he offered his snuff-box to my tutor. + </p> + <p> + “You are very polite,” said M. Jérôme Coignard. + </p> + <p> + Letting his transported looks wander over the learned walls he continued: + </p> + <p> + “Between these third and fourth windows are shelves bearing an illustrious + burden. There is the meeting place of Oriental MSS., who seem to converse + together. I see ten or twelve venerable ones under shreds of purple and + gold figured silks, their vestments. Like a Byzantine emperor, some of + them wear jewelled clasps on their mantles, others are mailed in ivory + plates.” + </p> + <p> + “They are the writings of Jewish, Arabian and Persian cabalists,” said M. + d’Asterac. “You have just opened ‘The Powerful Hand.’ Close to it you’ll + find ‘The Open Table,’ ‘The Faithful Shepherd,’ ‘The Fragments of the + Temple’ and ‘The Light of Darkness.’ One place is empty, that of ‘Slow + Waters,’ a precious treatise, which Mosaïde studies at present. Mosaïde, + as I have already said to you, gentlemen, is in my house, occupied with + the discovery of the deepest secrets contained in the scriptures of the + Hebrews, and, over a century old as he is, the rabbi consents not to die, + before penetrating into the sense of all cabalistic symbols. I owe him + much gratitude, and beg of you gentlemen, when you see him, to show him + the same regard as I do myself. + </p> + <p> + “But let us pass that over and come to what is your special concern. I + thought of you, reverend sir, to transcribe and put into Latin some Greek + MSS. of inestimable value. I confide in your knowledge and in your zeal, + and have no doubt that your young disciple cannot but be of great help to + you.” + </p> + <p> + And addressing me specially he said: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my son, I lay great hopes on you. They are based for a large part on + the education you have received. For, you have been brought up, so to say, + in the flames, under the mantel of the chimney haunted by Salamanders. + That is a very considerable circumstance.” + </p> + <p> + Without interrupting his speech, he took up an armful of MSS. and + deposited them on the table. + </p> + <p> + “This,” he said, showing a roll of papyrus, “comes from Egypt. It is a + book of Zosimus the Panopolitan, which was thought to be lost and which I + found myself in a coffin of a priest of Serapis. + </p> + <p> + “And what you see here,” he added, showing us some straps of glossy and + fibrous leaves on which Greek letters traced with a brush were hardly + visible, “are unheard-of revelations, due, one to Gophar the Persian, the + other to John, the arch-priest of Saint Evagia. + </p> + <p> + “I should be very glad if you would occupy yourselves with these works + before any others. Afterwards we will study together the MSS. of Synesius, + Bishop of Ptolemy, of Olympiodorus and Stephanus, which I discovered at + Ravenna, in a vault where they have been locked up since the reign of that + ignoramus Theodosius who has been surnamed the Great.” + </p> + <p> + As soon as M. d’Asterac was gone, my tutor sat down over the papyrus of + Zosimus and, with the help of a magnifying glass commenced to decipher it. + I asked him if he was not surprised by what he had just heard. + </p> + <p> + Without raising his head he replied: + </p> + <p> + “My dear boy, I have known too many kinds of persons and traversed + fortunes too various to be surprised at anything. This gentleman seems to + be demented, less because he really is so, but from his thoughts differing + in excess from those of the vulgar. But if one listened to discourses + commonly held in this world, there would be found still less sense than in + those of that philosopher. Left to itself, the sublimest human reason + builds its castles and temples in the air and, truly, M. d’Asterac is a + pretty good gatherer of clouds. Truth is in God alone, never forget it, my + boy. But this is really the book ‘Jmoreth’ written by Zosimus the + Panopolitan for his sister Theosebia. What a glory and what a delight to + read this unique MS. rediscovered by a kind of prodigy! I’ll give it my + days and night watches. How I pity, my boy, the ignorant fellows whom + idleness drives into debauchery! What a miserable life they lead! What is + a woman in comparison with an Alexandrian papyrus? Compare, if you please, + this noble library with the tavern of the <i>Little Bacchus</i> and the + entertainment of this precious MS. with the caresses given to a wench + under the bower; and tell me, my boy, where true contentment is to be + found. For me, a companion of the Muses, and admitted to the silent orgies + of meditation of which the rhetor of Madama speaks with so much eloquence, + I thank God for having made me a respectable man.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX + </h2> + <p> + At Work on Zosimus the Panopolitan—I visit my Home and hear Gossip + about M. d’Asterac. + </p> + <p> + During all the next month or six weeks, M. Coignard applied himself, day + and night, just as he had promised, to the reading of Zosimus the + Panopolitan. During the meals we partook of at the table of M. d’Asterac + the conversation turned on the opinions of the gnostics and on the + knowledge of the ancient Egyptians. Being only an ignorant scholar I was + of little use to my good master. I did my best by making such researches + as he wanted me to make; I took no little pleasure in it. Truly, we lived + happily and quietly. At about the seventh week, M. d’Asterac gave me leave + to go and see my parents at their cookshop. The shop appeared strangely + smaller to me. My mother was there alone and sad. She cried aloud on + seeing me fitted out like a prince. + </p> + <p> + “My Jacques,” she said, “I am very happy!” + </p> + <p> + And she began to cry. We embraced, then wiping her eyes with a corner of + her canvas apron she said: + </p> + <p> + “Your father is at the <i>Little Bacchus</i>. Since you left he often goes + there; in your absence the house is less pleasant for him. He’ll be glad + to see you again. But say, my Jacques, are you satisfied with your new + position? I regretted letting you go with that nobleman; I even accused + myself in confession to the third vicar of giving preference to your + bodily well-being over that of your soul and not having thought of God in + establishing you. The third vicar reproved me kindly over it, and exhorted + me to follow the example of the pious women in the Scriptures, of whom he + named several to me; but there are names there that I’ll never be able to + remember. He did not explain his meaning minutely as it was a Saturday + evening and the church was full of penitents.” + </p> + <p> + I reassured my good mother as well as I could and told her that M. + d’Asterac made me work in Greek, which was the language in which the New + Testament was written; this pleased her, but she remained pensive. + </p> + <p> + “You’ll never guess, my dear Jacquot,” she said, “who spoke to me of M. + d’Asterac. It was Cadette Saint-Avit, the serving-woman of the Rector of + St Benoît. She comes from Gascony, and is a native of a village called + Laroque-Timbaut, quite near Saint Eulalie, of which M. d’Asterac is the + lord. You know that Cadette Saint-Avit is elderly, as the waiting-woman of + a rector ought to be. In her youth she knew, in her country, the three + Messieurs d’Asterac, one of whom was captain of a man-of-war and has since + been drowned. He was the youngest. The second was colonel of a regiment, + went to war and was killed. The eldest, Hercules d’Asterac, is the sole + survivor of the three brothers. It is the same one in whose service you + are for your good, at least I hope so. He dressed magnificently in his + youth, was liberal in his manners but of a sombre humour. He kept aloof + from all public business and was not anxious to go into the king’s + service, as his two brothers had done and found in it an honourable end. + He was accustomed to say that it was no glory to carry a sword at one’s + side, that he did not know of a more ignoble thing than the calling of + arms, and that a village scavenger was, in his opinion, high over a + brigadier or a marshal of France. Those were his sayings. I confess it + does not seem to me either bad or malicious, rather daring and whimsical. + But in some way they must be blameable, as Cadette Saint-Avit said that + the rector of her parish considered them to be contrary to the order + established by God in this world and opposed to that part of the Bible + where God is given a name which means Lord of Hosts, and that would be a + great sin. + </p> + <p> + “This M. Hercules had so little sympathy with the court that he refused to + travel to Versailles to be presented to his Majesty according to his + birthright. He said, ‘The king does not come to me and I do not go to + him,’ and anyone of sense, my Jacquot, can understand that such is not a + natural saying.” + </p> + <p> + My good mother looked inquiringly and anxiously at me and went on: + </p> + <p> + “What more I have to inform you about, my dear Jacquot, is still less + believable. However, Cadette Saint-Avit spoke of it as of a certainty. And + so I will tell you that M. Hercules d’Asterac, when he lived on his + estate, had no other care but to bottle the rays of the sun. Cadette + Saint-Avit does not know how he managed it, but she is sure that after a + time, in the flagons well corked and heated in water baths, tiny little + women took form, charming figures and dressed like theatre princesses. You + laugh, Jacquot; however, one ought not to joke over such things when one + can see the consequence. It is a great sin to create in such a way + creatures who cannot be baptised and who never could have a part in the + eternal blessings. You cannot suppose that M. d’Asterac carried those + grotesque figures to a priest in their bottles to hold them over the + christening font. No godmother could have been found for them.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear mamma,” I replied, “the dolls of M. d’Asterac were not in + want of christening, they had no participation in original sin.” + </p> + <p> + “I never thought of that,” said my mother. “And Cadette Saint-Avit herself + did not mention it, although she was the servant of a rector. Unhappily + she left Gascony when quite young, came to France and had no more news of + M. d’Asterac, of his bottles and his puppets. I sincerely hope, my dear + Jacquot, that he renounced his wicked works, which could not be + accomplished without the help of the devil.” + </p> + <p> + I asked: + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, my dear mother, did Cadette Saint-Avit, the rector’s servant, + see the bodies in the bottles with her own eyes?” + </p> + <p> + “No, my dear child; M. d’Asterac kept his dolls very secret and did not + show them to anybody. But she heard of them from a churchman of the name + of Fulgence, who haunted the castle, and swore he had seen those little + creatures step out of their glass prisons and dance a minuet. And she had + every reason to believe it. It is possible to doubt of what one sees, but + you cannot doubt the word of an honest man, especially when he belongs to + the Church. There is another misfortune with such secret practices, they + are extremely costly and it is hard to imagine, as Cadette Saint-Avit + said, what money M. Hercules spent to procure all those bottles of + different forms, those furnaces and conjuring books wherewith he filled + his castle. But after the death of his brothers he became the richest + gentleman of his province, and while he dissipated his wealth in follies, + his good lands worked for him. Cadette Saint-Avit rates him, with all his + expenses, as still a very rich man.” + </p> + <p> + These last words spoken, my father entered the shop. He embraced me + tenderly and confided to me that the house had lost half its pleasantness + in consequence of my departure and that of M. Jérôme Coignard, who was + honest and jovial. He complimented me on my dress and gave me a lesson in + deportment, assuring me that trade had accustomed him to easy manners by + the continuous obligation he was under to greet his customers like + gentlemen, if as a fact they were only vile riff-raff. He gave me, as a + precept, to round off the elbows and to turn my toes outward and + counselled me, beyond this, to go and see Léandre at the fair of Saint + Germain and to adjust myself exactly on him. + </p> + <p> + We dined together with a good appetite, and we parted shedding floods of + tears. I loved them well, both of them, and what principally made me cry + was that, after an absence of six weeks only, they had already become + somewhat strange to me. And I verily believe that their sadness was caused + by the same sentiment. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X + </h2> + <p> + I see Catherine with Friar Ange and reflect—The Liking of Nymphs for + Satyrs—An Alarm of Fire—M. d’Asterac in his Laboratory. + </p> + <p> + When I came out of the cookshop, the night was black. At the corner of the + Rue des Ecrivains I heard a fat and deep voice singing: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Si ton honneur elle est perdue + La bell’, c’est tu l’as bien voulu.” + </pre> + <p> + And soon I could see on the other side, whence the voice sounded, Friar + Ange, with wallet dangling on his shoulder, holding Catherine the + lacemaker round the waist, walking in the shadow with a wavering and + triumphal step, spouting the gutter water under his sandals in a + magnificent spirit of mire which seemed to celebrate his drunken glory, as + the basins of Versailles make their fountains play in honour of the king. + I put myself out of the way against the post in the corner of a house + door, so as not to be seen by them, which was a needless precaution as + they were too much occupied with one another. With her head lying on the + monk’s shoulder, Catherine laughed. A moonray trembled on her moist lips + and in her eyes, like the water sparkles in a fountain; and I went my way, + with my soul irritated and my heart oppressed, thinking on the provoking + waist of that fine girl pressed by the arm of a dirty Capuchin. + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible,” I said to myself, “that such a pretty thing could be in + such ugly hands? And if Catherine despises me need she render her despisal + more cruel by the liking she has for that naughty Friar Ange?” + </p> + <p> + This preference appeared singular to me and I conceived as much surprise + as disgust at it. But I was not the disciple of M. Jérôme Coignard for + nothing. This incomparable teacher had formed my mind to meditate. I + recalled to myself the satyrs one can see in gardens carrying off nymphs, + and reflected that if Catherine was made like a nymph, those satyrs, at + least as they are represented to us, are as horrible as yonder Capuchin. + And I concluded that I ought not to be so very much astonished by what I + had just seen. My vexation, however, was not dissipated by my reason, + doubtless because it had not its source there. These meditations got me + along through the shadows of the night and the mud of the thaw to the road + of Saint Germain, where I met M. Jérôme Coignard, who was returning home + to the Cross of the Sablons after having supped in town. + </p> + <p> + “My boy,” he said, “I have conversed of Zosimus and the gnostics at the + table of a very learned ecclesiastic, quite another Peiresc. The wine was + coarse and the fare but middling, but nectar and ambrosia floated through + the discourse.” + </p> + <p> + Then my dear tutor spoke of the Panopolitan with an inconceivable + eloquence. Alas! I listened badly, thinking of that drop of moonlight + which had this very night fallen on the lips of Catherine the lacemaker. + </p> + <p> + At last he came to a stop and I asked on what foundation the Greeks had + established the liking of the nymphs for satyrs. My teacher was so widely + learned that he was always ready to reply to all questions. He told me: + </p> + <p> + “That liking is based on a natural sympathy. It is lively but not so + ardent as the liking of the satyrs for the nymphs, with which it + corresponds. The poets have observed this distinction very well. + Concerning it I’ll narrate you a singular adventure I have read in a MS. + belonging to the library of the Bishop of Séez. It was (I still have it + before my eyes) a collection in folio, written in a good hand of last + century. This is the singular fact reported in it. A Norman gentleman and + his wife took part in a public entertainment, disguised, he as a satyr, + she as a nymph. By Ovid it is known with what ardour the satyrs pursue the + nymphs; that gentleman had read the ‘Metamorphoses.’ He entered so well + into the spirit of his disguise that nine months after, his wife presented + him with a baby whose forehead was horned and whose feet were those of a + buck. It is not known what became of the father beyond that he had the + common end of all creatures, to wit, that he died, and that beside that + capriped he left another younger child, a Christian one and of human form. + This younger son went to law claiming that his brother should not get a + part of the deceased father’s inheritance for the reason that he did not + belong to the species redeemed by the blood of Jesus Christ. The + Parliament of Normandy, sitting at Rouen, gave a verdict in his favour, + which was duly recorded.” + </p> + <p> + I asked my teacher if it was possible that a disguise could have such an + effect on nature and if the shape of the child could follow that of a + garment. M. Jérôme Coignard advised me not to believe it. + </p> + <p> + “Jacques Tournebroche, my son,” he said, “remember always that a good mind + repels all that is contrary to reason, except in matters of faith, wherein + it is convenient to believe implicitly. Thank God! I have never erred + about the dogmas of our very holy religion, and I trust to find myself in + the same disposition in the article of death.” + </p> + <p> + Conversing in this manner we arrived at the castle. The roof seemed in a + red glow in the dark. Out of one in dark shadows. We heard the roaring of + the fire, like fiery rain under the dense smoke wherewith the sky was + veiled. We both believed the flames to be devouring the building. My good + tutor tore his hair and moaned: + </p> + <p> + “My Zosimus, my papyrus, my Greek MSS.! Help! Help! my Zosimus!” + </p> + <p> + Running up the great lane over puddles of water reflecting the glare of + the fire, we crossed the park buried in dark shadows. We heard the roaring + of the fire, which filled the sombre staircase. Two at a time we ran up + the steps, stopping now and again to listen whence came that appalling + noise. + </p> + <p> + It appeared to us to come from a corridor on the third floor where we had + never been. In that direction we fumbled our way, and seeing through the + slits of a door the red brightness, we knocked with all our might on the + panel. It opened at once. + </p> + <p> + M. d’Asterac, who opened the door, stood quietly before us. His long black + figure seemed to be enveloped in flaming air. He asked quietly on what + pressing business we were looking for him at so late an hour. There was no + conflagration but a terrible fire, burning in a big furnace with + reflectors, which as I have since learned are called athanors. The whole + of the rather large room was full of glass bottles with long necks twined + round glass tubes of a duck-beak shape, retorts, resembling chubby cheeks + out of which came noses like trumpets, crucibles, cupels, matrasses, + cucurbits and vases of all forms. + </p> + <p> + My dear old tutor wiping his face shining like live coals said: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir, we were afraid that the castle was alight like straw. Thank God, + the library is not burning. But are you practising the spagyric art, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not want to conceal from you,” said M. d’Asterac, “that I have made + great progress in it, but withal I have not found the theorem capable of + rendering my work perfect. At the moment you knocked at the door I was + picking up the Spirit of the World, and the Flower of Heaven, which are + the veritable Fountains of Youth. Have you some understanding of alchemy, + Monsieur Coignard?” + </p> + <p> + The abbé replied that he had got some notions of it from certain books, + but that he considered the practice of it to be pernicious and contrary to + religion. M. d’Asterac smiled and said: + </p> + <p> + “You are too knowing a man, M. Coignard, not to be acquainted with the + Flying Eagle, the Bird of Hermes, the Fowl of Hermogenes, the Head of a + Raven, the Green Lion and the Phoenix.” + </p> + <p> + “I have been told,” said my good master, “that by these names are + distinguished the philosopher’s stone in its different states. But I have + doubts about the possibility of a transmutation of metals.” + </p> + <p> + With the greatest confidence M. d’Asterac replied: + </p> + <p> + “Nothing is easier, my dear sir, than to bring your uncertainty to an + end.” + </p> + <p> + He opened an old rickety chest standing in the wall and took out of it a + copper coin, bearing the effigy of the late king, and called our attention + to a round stain crossing the coin from side to side. + </p> + <p> + “That,” he said, “is the effect of the stone, which has transmuted the + copper into silver, but that’s only a trifle.” + </p> + <p> + He went back to the chest and took out of it a sapphire the size of an + egg, an opal of marvellous dimensions and a handful of perfect fine + emeralds. + </p> + <p> + “Here are some of my doings,” he said, “which are proof enough that the + spagyric art is not the dream of an empty brain.” + </p> + <p> + At the bottom of the small wooden bowl lay five or six little diamonds, of + which M. d’Asterac made no mention. My tutor asked him if they also were + of his make, and, the alchemist having acknowledged it: + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said the abbé, “I should counsel you to show the curious those + diamonds prior to the other stones by way of caution. If you let them look + first at the sapphire, opal and the emeralds, you run the risk of a + persecution for sorcery, because everyone will say that the devil alone + was capable of producing such stones. Just as the devil alone could lead + an easy life in the midst of these furnaces, where one has to breathe + flames. As far as I am concerned, having stayed a single quarter of an + hour, I am already half baked.” + </p> + <p> + Letting us out, with a friendly smile M. d’Asterac spoke as follows: + </p> + <p> + “Well knowing what to think of the devil and the Other, I willingly + consent to speak of them with persons who believe in them. The devil and + the Other are, as it were, characters; one may speak of them just as of + Achilles and Thersites. Be assured, gentlemen, if the devil is like what + he is said to be, he does not live in so subtle an element as fire. It is + wholly wrong to place so villainous a beast in the sun. But as I had the + honour to say, Master Tournebroche, to the Capuchin so dear to your + mother, I reckon that the Christians slander Satan and his demons. That in + some unknown world there may exist beings still worse than man is + possible, but hardly conceivable. Certainly, if such exist, they inhabit + regions deprived of light, and if they are burning, it would be in ice, + which, as a fact, causes the same smarting pain, and not in illustrious + flames among the fiery daughters of the stars. They suffer because they + are wicked, and wickedness is an evil; but they can only suffer from + chilblains. With regard to your Satan, gentlemen, who is a horror for your + theologians, I do not consider him to be despicable, if I judge him by all + you say of him, and, should he peradventure exist, I would think him to + be, not a nasty beast, but a little Sylph, or at least a Gnome, and a + metallurgist a trifle mocking but very intelligent.” + </p> + <p> + My tutor stopped his ears with his fingers and took to flight so as not to + hear anything more. + </p> + <p> + “What impiety, Tournebroche, my boy,” he exclaimed, when we reached the + staircase. “What blasphemies! Have you felt all the odium in the maxims of + that philosopher? He pushes atheism to a joyous frenzy, which makes me + wonder. But this indeed renders him almost innocent, for being apart from + all belief, he cannot tear up the Holy Church like those who remain + attached to her by some half-severed, still bleeding limb. Such, my son, + are the Lutherans and the Calvinists, who mortify the Church till a + separation occurs. On the contrary, atheists damn themselves alone, and + one may dine with them without committing a sin. That’s to say, that we + need not have any scruple about living with M. d’Asterac, who believes + neither in God nor devil. But did you see, Tournebroche, my boy, the + handful of little diamonds at the bottom of the wooden bowl?—the + number of which apparently he did not know, and which seemed to be of pure + water. I have my doubts about the opal and the sapphires, but those + diamonds looked genuine.” When we reached our chambers we wished each + other a very good-night. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI + </h2> + <h3> + The Advent of Spring and its Effects—We visit Mosaïde + </h3> + <p> + Up till springtime my tutor and myself led a regular and secluded life. + All the mornings we were at work shut up in the gallery, and came back + here after dinner as if to the theatre. Not as M. Jérôme Coignard used to + say, to give ourselves in the manner of gentlemen and valets a paltry + spectacle, but to listen to the sublime, if contradictory, dialogues of + the ancient authors. + </p> + <p> + In this way the reading and translating of the Panopolitan advanced + quickly. I hardly contributed to it. Such kind of work was above my + knowledge and I had enough to do to learn the figure that the Greek + letters make on papyrus. Sometimes I assisted my tutor by consulting the + authors who could enlighten him in his researches, and foremost + Olympiodorus and Plotinus, with whom since then I have remained familiar. + The small services I was able to render him increased considerably my + self-esteem. + </p> + <p> + After a long sharp winter I was on the way to become a learned person, + when the spring broke in suddenly with her gallant equipage of light, + tender green and singing birds; the perfume of the lilacs coming into the + library windows caused me vague reveries, out of which my tutor called me + by saying: + </p> + <p> + “Jacquot Tournebroche, please climb up that ladder and tell me if that + rascal Manéthon does not mention a god Imhotep, who by his contradictions + tortures one like a devil.” + </p> + <p> + And my good master filled his nose with tobacco and looked quite content. + </p> + <p> + On another occasion he said: + </p> + <p> + “My boy, it is remarkable how great an influence our garments have on our + moral state. Since my neckband has become spotted with different sauces I + have dropped upon it I feel a less honest man. Now that you are dressed + like a marquis, Tournebroche, does not the desire tickle you to assist at + the toilet of an opera girl, and to put a roll of spurious gold pieces on + a faro-table—in one word, do you not feel yourself to be a man of + quality? Do not take what I say amiss, and remember that it is sufficient + to give a coward a busby to make him hasten to become a soldier and be + knocked on the head in the king’s service. Tournebroche, our sentiments + are composed of a thousand things we cannot detect for their smallness, + and the destiny of our immortal soul depends sometimes on a puff too light + to bend a blade of grass. We are the toy of the winds. But pass me, if you + please, ‘The Rudiments of Vossius,’ the red edges of which I see stand out + under your left arm.” + </p> + <p> + On this same day, after dinner at three o’clock, M. d’Asterac led us, my + teacher and myself, to walk in the park. He conducted us to the west, + where Rueil and Mont Valérien are visible. It was the deepest and most + desolate part. Ivy and grass, cropped by the rabbits, covered the paths, + now and then obstructed by large trunks of dead trees. The marble statues + on both sides of the way smiled, unconscious of their ruin. A nymph, with + her broken hand near her mouth, made a sign to a shepherd to remain + silent. A young faun, his head fallen to the ground, still tried to put + his flute to his lips. And all these divine beings seemed to teach us to + despise the injuries inflicted by time and fortune. We followed the banks + of a canal where the rainwater nourished the tree frogs. Round a circus + rose sloping basins where pigeons went to drink. Arrived there we went by + a narrow pathway driven through a coppice. + </p> + <p> + “Walk with care,” said M. d’Asterac. “This pathway is somewhat dangerous, + as it is lined by mandrakes which at night-time sing at the foot of the + trees. They hide in the earth. Take care not to put your feet on them; you + will get love sickness or thirst after wealth, and would be lost, because + the passions inspired by mandrakes are unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + I asked how it was possible to avoid the invisible danger. M. d’Asterac + replied that one could escape it by means of intuitive divination, and in + no other way. + </p> + <p> + “Besides,” he added, “this pathway is fatal.” + </p> + <p> + It went on in a direct line to a brick pavilion, hidden under ivy, which + no doubt had served in time gone by as a guard house. There the park came + to an end close to the monotonous marshes of the Seine. + </p> + <p> + “You see this pavilion,” said M. d’Asterac; “in it lives the most learned + of men. Therein Mosaïde, one hundred and twenty years old, penetrates, + with majestic self-will, the mysteries of nature. He has left Imbonatus + and Bartoloni far behind. I wanted to honour myself, gentlemen, by keeping + under my roof the greatest cabalist since Enoch, son of Cain. Religious + scruples have prevented Mosaïde taking his place at my table, which he + supposes to be a Christian’s, by which he does me too much honour. You + cannot conceive the violence of hate, of this sage, of everything + Christian. I had the greatest difficulty to make him dwell in the + pavilion, where he lives alone with his niece, Jahel. Gentlemen, you shall + not wait longer before becoming acquainted with Mosaïde and I will at once + present both of you to this divine man.” + </p> + <p> + And having thus spoken, M. d’Asterac pushed us inside the pavilion, where + between MSS. strewn all round was seated in a large arm-chair an old man + with piercing eyes, a hooked nose, and a couple of thin streams of white + beard growing from a receding chin; a velvet cap, formed like an imperial + crown, covered his bald skull, and his body, of an inhuman emaciation, was + wrapped up in an old gown of yellow silk, resplendent but dirty. + </p> + <p> + Right piercing looks were turned on us, but he gave no sign that he + noticed our arrival. His face had an expression of painful stubbornness, + and he slowly rolled between his rigid fingers the reed which served him + for writing. + </p> + <p> + “Do not expect idle words from Mosaïde,” said M. d’Asterac to us. “For a + long time this sage does not communicate with anyone but the genii and + myself. His discourses are sublime. As he will never converse with you, + gentlemen, I’ll endeavour to give you in a few words an idea of his + merits. First he has penetrated into the spiritual sense of the books of + Moses, after that into the value of the Hebrew characters, which depends + on the order of the letters of the alphabet. This order has been thrown + into confusion from the eleventh letter forward. Mosaïde has + re-established it, which Atrabis, Philo, Avicenne, Raymond Lully, P. de la + Mirandola, Reuchlin, Henry More and Robert Flydd have been unable to do. + Mosaïde knows the number of the gold which corresponds to Jehovah in the + world of spirits, and you must agree, gentlemen, that that is of infinite + consequence.” + </p> + <p> + My dear tutor took his snuff-box in hand, presented it civilly to us, took + a pinch himself and said: + </p> + <p> + “Do you not believe, M. d’Asterac, that this sort of knowledge is the very + kind to bring one to the devil at the end of this transient life? + </p> + <p> + “After all, this sire Mosaïde plainly errs in his interpretation of the + Holy Scriptures. When our Lord expired on the cross for the salvation of + mankind the synagogue felt a bandage slip over her eyes, she staggered + like a drunken woman and the crown fell from her head. Since then the + interpretation of the Old Testament is confined to the Catholic Church, to + which in spite of my many iniquities I belong.” + </p> + <p> + At these words Mosaïde, like a goat god, smiled in a hideous manner, and + said to my dear tutor, in a slow and musty voice sounding as from far + away: + </p> + <p> + “The Masorah has not confided to thee her secrets and the Mischna has not + revealed to thee her mysteries.” + </p> + <p> + “Mosaïde,” continued M. d’Asterac, “not only interprets the books of Moses + but also that of Enoch, which is much more important, and which has been + rejected by the Christians, who were unable to understand it; like the + cock of the Arabian fable, who disdained the pearl fallen in his grain. + That book of Enoch, M. Abbé Coignard, is the more precious because therein + are to be seen the first talks the daughters of man had with the Sylphs. + You must understand that those angels which as Enoch shows us had love + connection with women were Sylphs and Salamanders.” + </p> + <p> + “I will so understand, sir,” replied my good master, “not wishing to + gainsay you. But from what has been conserved of the book of Enoch, which + is clearly apocryphal, I suspect those angels to have been not Sylphs but + simply Phoenician merchants.” + </p> + <p> + “And on what do you found,” asked M. d’Asterac, “so singular an opinion?” + </p> + <p> + “I found it, sir, on what is said in that very book that the angels taught + the women how to use bracelets and necklaces, to paint the eyebrows and to + employ all sorts of dyes. It is further said in the same book, that the + angels taught the daughters of men the peculiar qualities of roots and + trees, enchantments, and the art of observing the stars. Truly, sir, have + not those angels the appearance of Syrians or Sidonians gone ashore on + some half-deserted coast and unpacking in the shadow of rocks their + trumpery wares to tempt the girls of the savage tribes? These traffickers + gave them copper necklaces, armlets and medicines in exchange for amber, + frankincense and furs. And they astonished these beautiful but ignorant + creatures by speaking to them of the stars with a knowledge acquired by + seafaring. That’s clear, I think, and I should like to know in what M. + Mosaïde could contradict me.” + </p> + <p> + Mosaïde kept mute and M. d’Asterac, smiling again, said: + </p> + <p> + “M. Coignard, you do not reason so badly, ignorant as you still are of + gnosticism and the Cabala. And what you say makes me think that there may + have been some metallurgistic and gold-working Gnomes among the Sylphs who + joined themselves in love with the daughters of men. The Gnomes, and that + is a fact, occupied themselves willingly with the goldsmith’s art, and it + is probable that those ingenious demons forged the bracelets you believe + to have been of Phoenician manufacture. + </p> + <p> + “But I warn you, you’ll be at some disadvantage, sir, to compete with + Mosaïde in the knowledge of human antiquities. He has rediscovered + monuments which were believed to have been lost; among others, the column + of Seth and the oracles of Sambéthé the daughter of Noah and the most + ancient of the sybils.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” exclaimed my tutor as he stamped on the powdery floor so that a + cloud of dust whirled up. “Oh! what dreams! It is too much, you make fun + of me! And M. Mosaïde cannot have so much foolery in his head, under his + large bonnet, resembling the crown of Charlemagne; that column of Seth is + a ridiculous invention of that shallow Flavius Josephus, an absurd story + by which nobody has been imposed upon before you. And the predictions of + Sambéthé, Noah’s daughter, I am really curious to know them; and M. + Mosaïde, who seems to be pretty sparing of his words, would oblige by + uttering a few by words of mouth, because it is not possible for him, I am + quite pleased to recognise it, to pronounce them by the more secret voice + in which the ancient sybils habitually gave their mysterious responses.” + </p> + <p> + Mosaïde, who seemed to hear nothing, said suddenly: + </p> + <p> + “Noah’s daughter has spoken; Sambéthé has said: ‘The vain man who laughs + and mocks will not hear the voice which goes forth from the seventh + tabernacle, the infidel walketh miserably to his ruin.’” + </p> + <p> + After this oracular pronouncement all three of us took leave of Mosaïde. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII + </h2> + <h3> + I take a Walk and visit Mademoiselle Catherine + </h3> + <p> + In that year the summer was radiant, and I had a longing to go walking. + One day, strolling under the trees of the Cours-la-Reine with two little + crowns I had found that very morning in the pocket of my breeches, and + which were the first by which my goldmaker had shown his munificence, I + sat down at the door of a small coffee-house, at a table so small that it + was quite appropriate to my solitude and modesty. Then I began to think of + the oddness of my destiny, while at my side some musketeers were drinking + Spanish wine with girls of the town. I was not quite sure that + Croix-des-Sablons, M. d’Asterac, Mosaïde, the papyrus of Zosimus and my + fine clothes were not dreams, out of which I should wake to find myself + clad in the dimity vest, back again turning the spit at the <i>Queen + Pédauque</i>. + </p> + <p> + I came out of my reverie on feeling my sleeve pulled, and saw standing + before me Friar Ange, his face nearly hidden by his beard and cowl. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Jacques Ménétrier,” he said in a very low voice, “a lady, who + wishes you well, expects you in her carriage on the highway, between the + river and the Porte de la Conférence.” + </p> + <p> + My heart began to beat violently. Afraid and charmed by this adventure, I + went at once to the place indicated by the Capuchin, but at a quiet pace, + which seemed to me to be more becoming. Arrived at the embankment I saw a + carriage and a tiny hand on the door. + </p> + <p> + This door was opened at my coming, and very much surprised I was to find + inside the coach Mam’selle Catherine, dressed in pink satin, her head + covered with a hood of black lace, underneath which her fair hair seemed + to sport. + </p> + <p> + Confused I remained standing on the step. + </p> + <p> + “Come in,” she said, “and sit down near me. Shut the door if you please; + you must not be seen. Just now in passing on the Cours I saw you sitting + at the café. Immediately I had you fetched by the good friar, whom I had + attached to me for the Lenten exercises, and whom I have kept since, + because, in whatever position one may be, it is necessary to have piety. + You looked very well, M. Jacques, sitting before your little table, your + sword across your thighs and with the sad look of a man of quality. I have + always been friendly disposed towards you and I am not of that kind of + women who in their prosperity disregard their former friends.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh! What? Mam’selle Catherine,” I exclaimed, “this coach, these lackeys, + this satin dress——” + </p> + <p> + “They are the outcome,” she replied, “of the kindness of M. de la + Guéritude, who is of the best set and one of the richest financiers. He + has lent money to the king. He is an excellent friend whom, for all the + world, I should not wish to offend. But he is not as amiable as you, M. + Jacques. He has also given me a little house at Grenelle, which I will + show you from the cellar to the garret. M. Jacques, I am mighty glad to + see you on the road to fortune. Real merit is always discovered. You’ll + see my bedroom, which is copied from that of Mademoiselle Davilliers. It + is covered all over with looking-glass and there are lots of grotesque + figures. How is the old fellow your father? Between ourselves, he somewhat + neglects his wife and his cook-shop. It is very wrong of a man in his + position. But let us speak of yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us speak of you, Mam’selle Catherine,” said I. “You are so very + pretty and it is a great pity you love the Capuchin.” Nothing could be + said against a government contractor. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she said, “do not reproach me with Friar Ange. I have him for my + salvation only and if I would give a rival to M. de la Guéritude it would + be——” + </p> + <p> + “Would be?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t ask me, M. Jacques; you’re an ungrateful man, for you know that I + always singled you out, but you do not care about me.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite the contrary, Mam’selle Catherine. I smarted under your mockery. + You sneered at my beardless chin. Many a time you have told me that I am + but a ninny.” + </p> + <p> + “And that was true, M. Jacques, truer than you believed it to be. Why + could you not see that I had a liking for you?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Catherine, you are so pretty as to make one fear. I did not dare to + look at you. And one day I clearly Law that you were thoroughly offended + with me.” + </p> + <p> + “I had every reason for it, M. Jacques; you took that Savoyard in + preference to me, that scum of the Port Saint Nicolas.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! be quite sure, Catherine, that I did not do so by wish or + inclination, but only because she found ways and means energetic enough to + vanquish my timidity.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! my friend, you may believe me, as I am the elder of us two, timidity + is a great sin against love. But did you not see that that beggar had + holes in her stockings and a seam of filth and mud, half-an-ell high, on + the bottom of her petticoat?” + </p> + <p> + “I saw it, Catherine.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you not seen, Jacques, how badly she is made and that really she is + skinny?” + </p> + <p> + “I saw it, Catherine.” + </p> + <p> + “And withal you loved that Savoyard she-monkey, you who have a white skin + and distinguished manners!” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot understand it myself, Catherine. It must have been that at that + moment my imagination was full of you. And it was your image only gave me + the pluck and strength you reproach me with to-day. Imagine yourself, + Catherine, my rapture to press you in my arms, yourself or only a girl who + resembled you a little. Because I loved you desperately.” + </p> + <p> + She took my hand and sighed, and in a tone of sadness I continued to say: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I did love you, Catherine, and I could still love you except for + that disgusting monk.” + </p> + <p> + She cried out: + </p> + <p> + “What a suspicion! You offend me. It is a folly.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you do not love the Capuchin?” + </p> + <p> + “Fie!” + </p> + <p> + As I did not consider it to be any use to press the subject further, I + took her round the waist, we embraced, our lips met and all my being + seemed to melt in voluptuousness. + </p> + <p> + After a short moment of luxurious confusion, she disentangled herself, her + cheeks rosy, her eyes moistened, her lips half separated. It is from that + day that I knew how much a woman is embellished and adorned by a kiss + lovingly pressed on her mouth. Mine had made roses of the sweetest hue + bloom on Catherine’s cheeks and strewn into the flowery blue of her eyes + drops of diamantine dew. + </p> + <p> + “You are a baby,” she said, readjusting her hood. “Go! you cannot remain a + moment longer. M. de la Guéritude will be here at once. He loves me with + an impatience which continually runs ahead of the meeting time.” + </p> + <p> + Reading in my face how upset I was by this saying she spoke again with a + quick vivacity: + </p> + <p> + “Listen, Jacques, he returns every night at nine to his old woman, who + shrewish by age, cannot bear his infidelities since she herself is unable + to pay him in the same coin and has become awfully jealous. Come to-night + at half-past nine. I’ll receive you. My house is at the corner of the Rue + du Bac. You’ll recognise it by its three windows on every floor and by its + balcony covered with roses; you know I always did like flowers. Good-bye + till to-night.” + </p> + <p> + Caressingly she pushed me back, hardly able to hide the wish to keep me + with her, then placing one finger over her mouth she whispered again: + </p> + <p> + “Till to-night.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII + </h2> + <p> + Taken by M. d’Asterac to the Isle of Swans I listen to his Discourse on + Creation and Salamanders. + </p> + <p> + I really do not know how it was possible to tear myself out of Catherine’s + arms. But it is a fact that in jumping out of her carriage I nearly fell + on M. d’Asterac, whose tall figure leant against a tree on the roadside. + Courteously I saluted him and showed the surprise I felt at this pleasant + encounter. + </p> + <p> + “Chance,” he said, “lessens as knowledge grows; for me it is suppressed. I + knew, my son, that I had to meet you at this place. It is necessary for me + to have a conversation with you already too long delayed. Let’s go, if you + please, in quest of solitude and quietness required by what I wish to tell + you. Do not become anxious. The mysteries I desire to unveil before you + are sublime, it is true, but pleasant also.” + </p> + <p> + Having so spoken he conducted me to the bank of the Seine opposite the + Isle of Swans, which rose out of the middle of the river like a ship built + of foliage. There he made a sign to a ferryman, whose boat brought us + quickly to the green isle, frequented only by invalids, who on fine days + play there at bowls and drink their pint of wine. Night lit her first + stars in the sky and lent a humming voice to the myriads of insects in the + grass. The isle was deserted. M. d’Asterac sat down on a wooden bench at + the end of an alley of walnut-trees, invited me to sit close to him and + spoke: + </p> + <p> + “There are three sorts of people, my son, from whom the philosopher has to + hide his secrets. They are princes, because it would be imprudent to + enlarge their power; the ambitious, whose pitiless genius must not be + armed, and the debauchees, who would find in hidden sciences the means to + satiate their evil passions. But I can talk freely to you, who are neither + debauched—for I quite overlook the error you nearly gave way to in + the arms of yonder girl—nor ambitious, having lived, till recently, + contented to turn the paternal spit. Therefore I may disclose to you the + hidden laws of the universe. + </p> + <p> + “It must not be believed that life is limited by narrow rules wherein it + is manifested to the eyes of the profane. When they teach that creation’s + object and end was man, your theologians and your philosophers reason like + the multiped of Versailles or the Tuileries, who believe the humidity of + the cellars is made for their special use and that the remainder of the + castle is uninhabitable. The system of the world, as Canon Copernicus + taught in the last century, following the doctrines of Aristarchus of + Samos and Pythagorean philosophers, is doubtless known to you, as there + have actually been prepared some compendiums of them for the urchins of + village schools and dialogues abstracted from them for the use of town + children. You have seen at my house a kind of machine which shows it + distinctly by means of a kind of clockwork. + </p> + <p> + “Raise your eyes, my son, and you’ll see over your head David’s chariot, + drawn by Mizar and her two illustrious companions, circling round the + pole; Arcturus, Vega of the Lyre, the Virgin’s Sword, the Crown of Ariadne + and its charming pearls. Those are suns. One single look on that world + will make it clear to you that the whole of creation is the work of fire + and that life, in its finest forms, is fed on flames. + </p> + <p> + “And what are the planets? Drops of a mixture of mind, a little mire and + plenty of moisture. Behold the august choir of the stars, the assembly of + the suns; they equal or excel ours in magnitude and power and after I have + shown you on a clear winter’s night, through my telescope, Sirius, your + eyes and soul will be dazzled. + </p> + <p> + “Do you in good faith believe that Sirius Altair, Regulus, Aldebaran, all + these suns are luminary only? Do you believe that this old Phoebus, who + incessantly forces into space, wherein we are swimming, his inordinate + surge of heat and light, has no other function but to light the earth and + some other paltry and imperceptible planets? What a candle! A million + times greater than the dwelling. + </p> + <p> + “I have to present to you first of all the idea that the universe is + composed of suns and that the planets which may be in it are less than + nothing. But as I foresee your wish to make an objection, I’ll reply to it + beforehand. The suns, you want to say, put themselves out in the course of + centuries and by that also change into mud. No! is my reply; they keep + themselves alive by means of comets which they attract and which fall on + them. It is the dwelling of true life. The planets and this our earth are + but the abode of ghosts. Such are the verities of which I have to convince + you. + </p> + <p> + “Now that you understand, my son, that fire is the principal element, + you’ll easier comprehend what I wish to teach you and which is of greater + importance than anything you may have learned up to now, or was even known + to Erasmus, Turnebe or Scaliger. I do not speak of theologians like + Quesnel or Bossuet who, between ourselves, I consider as the lees of human + spirit, and who have no better understanding than a simple captain of + guards. Don’t let us hamper ourselves by despising those brains comparable + in volume, as well as in construction, to wrens’ eggs, but let us at once + enter fully into the object of our conference. + </p> + <p> + “Whilst those earth-born creatures do not surpass a degree of perfection + which, by beauty of form, has been attained by Antinoüs and by Madame de + Parabère, and at which they alone have arrived by the faculty known to + Democritus and myself; the beings formed by fire enjoy a wisdom and an + intelligence of which we cannot possibly conceive the limit. + </p> + <p> + “Such is, my son, the nature of the glorious children of the suns; they + know the laws of the universe just as we know the rules of chess, and the + course of the stars does not trouble them any more than the moves on the + chessboard of the king and the other men trouble us. Those genii create + worlds in such spaces of the infinite where none at present exist, and + organise them at their will. It distracts them momentarily from their + principal business, which is to unite among themselves in unspeakable + love. Only last night I turned my telescope on the Sign of the Virgin and + saw on it a far-away vortex of light. No doubt, my son, that was the still + unfinished work of one of those fire beings. + </p> + <p> + “Truly the universe has no other origin; far from being the effect of a + single will, it is the result of the sublime freaks of a great many genii, + recreating themselves by working on it each in his own turn and on his own + side. That’s what explains the diversity, the splendour and the + imperfection. For the force and foresight of those genii, immense as they + were, had still their limits. I should deceive you were I to say that a + man, philosopher or magician, can have familiar intercourse with them. + </p> + <p> + “None of them gave me a direct manifestation of himself, and what I tell + you of them is known to me by induction only, and by hearsay. Certain as + their existence is, I should not attempt to describe their habits and + their character. It is necessary to know when not to know, my son, and I + make it a point not to bring forward other than perfectly well-observed + facts. + </p> + <p> + “Let those genii, or rather demiurguses, abide in their glory, and let us + treat of illustrious beings who stand nearer to us. Here, my son, is where + one has to lend an open ear. + </p> + <p> + “If in speaking of the planets I have given vent to a feeling of disdain, + it was that I only took into consideration the solid surface and shell of + those little balls or tops and the animals who sadly crawl on them. I + should have spoken in quite another tone, if in my mind I had included + with the planets the air and the vapours wherein they are enveloped. For + the air is an element in no way of lesser nobility than fire, whence it + follows that the dignity and importance of the planets is in the air + wherein they are bathed. Those clouds, soft vapours, puffs of wind, + transparencies, blue waves, moving islets of purple and gold which pass + over our heads, are the abode of adorable people. They are called Sylphs + and Salamanders, and are creatures infinitely amiable and lovely. It is + possible for us, and convenient, to form with them unions, the delights of + which are hardly conceivable. + </p> + <p> + “The Salamanders are such that in comparison with them the prettiest + person at court or in the city is but an ugly woman. They surrender + themselves willingly to philosophers. Doubtless you have heard of that + marvel by which M. Descartes was accompanied on his travels. Some say that + she was a natural daughter of his, that he took with him everywhere; + others think that she was an automaton manufactured with inimitable art. + As a fact she was a Salamander, whom that clever man had taken as his lady + love. He never left her. During a voyage in the Dutch Sea he took her with + him on board, shut in a box of precious wood lined with the softest satin. + The form of this box, and the precaution with which M. Descartes took care + of it, drew the attention of the captain, who, while the philosopher was + asleep, raised the cover and discovered the Salamander. This ignorant, + rude fellow imagined that such a marvellous creature was the creation of + the devil. In his dismay, he threw it into the sea. But you will easily + believe that the beautiful little person was not drowned, and that it was + no trouble to her to rejoin M. Descartes. She remained faithful to him + during his natural life, and when he died she left this world never more + to return. + </p> + <p> + “I give you this example, chosen from many, to make you acquainted with + the loves between philosophers and Salamanders. These loves are too + sublime to be in need of contracts, and you will agree that the ridiculous + display usual at human weddings would be entirely out of place at such + unions. It would be indeed fine, if a proctor in a wig and a fat priest + put their noses together over it! That sort of gentleman is good only to + join vulgar man to woman. The marriages of Salamanders and sages have + witnesses more august. The aerial people celebrate them in ships which, + moved by celestial breath, glide, their sterns crowned with roses, to the + sound of harps, on invisible waves. But do not believe that, not being + entered in a dirty register in a shabby vestry, they would be of little + solidity and could be easily torn asunder. They have for guarantors the + spirits who gambol on the clouds whence flashes the lightning and roars + the thunder. I reveal matters to you, my son, which be useful to you to + know, because I conclude from certain indications that your destiny is the + bed of a Salamander.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! monsieur,” I exclaimed, “this destiny alarms me, and I have nearly + as many scruples as the Dutch captain who threw the lady love of Descartes + into the sea. I cannot help thinking these aerial dames are demons. I + should fear to lose my soul with them, for after all, sir, such marriages + are against nature and in opposition to the divine law. Oh! why is not M. + Jérôme Coignard, my good tutor, present to hear you! I am sure he would + strengthen me by his valuable arguments against the delights of your + Salamanders, sir, and your eloquence.” + </p> + <p> + “The Abbé Coignard,” said M. d’Asterac, “is an admirable translator of + Greek. But you must not want anything from him beyond his books. He has no + philosophy. As far as you are in question, my son, you reason with the + infirmity of ignorance, and the weakness of your arguments afflicts me. + You say, those unions are against nature. What do you know about it? What + means have you to gain knowledge of it? How is it possible to make a + distinction between what is natural and what is not? Is the universal Isis + known enough to discriminate between what is assisting her and what + thwarts her? But to speak better still; nothing thwarts her and everything + assists her, because nothing exists which does not enter into the + functions of her organs and does not follow the numberless attitudes of + her body. I beg of you to say, whence could enemies come to offend her? + Nothing acts against her nor outside of her; the forces which seem to + fight against her are nothing else but movements of her own life. + </p> + <p> + “The ignorant alone have assurance enough to decide if an action is + natural or not. Let’s admit their illusions for a moment and their + prejudice, and let us feign to recognise the possibility of committing + acts against nature. These acts, are they for that reason worse and + condemnable? On this point I cannot but remember the vulgar opinion of + moralists who represent virtue as an effort over instincts, as an + enterprise on the inclinations we carry within us, as a fight with the + original man. They own themselves that virtue is against nature, and going + further on that opinion they cannot condemn an action of whatever kind, + for what is common to it and virtue alike. + </p> + <p> + “I have made this digression, my son, to call your attention to the + contemptible lightness of your reason. I should offend you by believing + you still have any doubts of the innocence of the sensual intercourse men + may have with Salamanders. Know then, now, that such marriages, far from + being interdicted by religious law, are commanded by that law to the + exclusion of all others I will give you some conclusive evidence for it.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped talking, took his snuff-box from his pocket, and filled his + nose with a pinch. + </p> + <p> + The night was densely dark. The moon shed her limpid light over the river, + and tremblingly enlaced with the reflections of the street lamps. The + flying ephemerides enveloped us like a vaporous eddy. The shrill voice of + insects rose into the world’s silence. Such a sweetness fell slowly down + from the sky that it seemed as if milk had been mixed with the sparkling + of the stars. + </p> + <p> + M. d’Asterac spoke again: + </p> + <p> + “The Bible, my son, and especially the books of Moses, contains grand and + useful verities. Such an opinion may appear absurd and unreasonable, in + consequence of the treatment the theologians have inflicted on what they + call the Scriptures, and of which they have made, by means of their + commentaries, explications, and meditations, a manual of errors, a library + of absurdities, a magazine of foolery, a cabinet of lies, a gallery of + stupidities, a lyceum of ignorance, a museum of silliness, and a + repository of human imbecility and wickedness. Know, my son, that at its + origin it was a temple filled with celestial radiance. + </p> + <p> + “I have been fortunate enough to re-establish it in its primal splendour. + Truth obliges me to acknowledge that Mosaïde has very much assisted me + with his deep comprehension of the language and the alphabet of the + Hebrews. But let us not lose sight of our principal subject. Be informed + from the outset, my son, that the sense of the Bible is figurative, and + that the capital error of the theologians was to take it literally, + whereas it is to be understood as symbolical. Follow this truth in the + whole course of my discourse. + </p> + <p> + “When Demiurge, who is commonly called Jehovah, and by many more names, as + all terms expressing quality or quantity are generally applied to him, + had, I do not want to say ‘created’ the world—for such would be an + absurdity—but had laid out a small corner of the universe, as a + dwelling place for Adam and Eve, there were some subtle creatures in + space, which Jehovah had not formed, was not capable of forming. They were + the work of several other demiurges, older and more skillful. His craft + was not beyond that of a very clever potter, capable of kneading clay + beings in the manner of pots, such as we men are now. What I say is not to + slight him, because such work is still much beyond human power. + </p> + <p> + “But it became necessary to brand the inferior character of the work of + the seven days. Jehovah worked, not in and with fire, which alone gives + birth to the masterpieces of life, but with mud, out of which he could not + produce other than the work of a clever ceramist. We are nothing, my son, + but animated earthenware. Jehovah is not to be reproached for having + illusions over the quality of his work. If he did find it well done in the + first moment, and in the ardour of composition, he did not take long to + recognise his error, the Bible is full of expressions of his discontent, + which often becomes ill-humour, sometimes actual rage. + </p> + <p> + “Never has artisan treated the objects of his industry with more disgust + and aversion. He intended to destroy them, and, in fact, did drown the + larger part. This deluge, the memory of which has been conserved by Jews, + Greeks and Chinese alike, gave a last deception to the unhappy demiurges, + who, aware of the uselessness and ridiculousness of such violence, became + discouraged, and fell into an apathy, the progress of which has not been + stopped from Noah’s time to our present day, wherein it is extreme. But I + see I have advanced too far. The inconvenience of these extensive subjects + is the impossibility of remaining within their limits. + </p> + <p> + “Our mind thrown into them resembles yonder sons of the suns, who cross + the whole of the universe in one single jump. + </p> + <p> + “Let us return to the earthly paradise, wherein the demiurge had placed + the two vases formed by his hand, Adam and Eve. They did not live there + alone, between the animals and plants. The spirits of the air, created by + the demiurges of the fire, were flowing over and looking at them with a + curiosity mixed with sympathy and pity. It was exactly as Jehovah had + foreseen. Let us hasten to say, to his praise, he had relied on the genii + of the fire, to whom we may now give their true names of Elves and + Salamanders, to ameliorate and perfect his clay figures. In his prudence + he may have said to himself: ‘My Adam and my Eve, opaque and cemented in + clay, are in want of air and light. I have failed to give them wings. But + united to Elves and Salamanders, the creations of a demiurge more powerful + and more subtle than myself, they will give birth to children, equally + originated by light and clay, and who in their turn will have children + still more luminous than themselves, till in the end their issue will be + equal in beauty to the sons and daughters of air and fire.’ + </p> + <p> + “It must be said he had neglected nothing to attract the eyes of Sylphs + and Salamanders in forming Adam and Eve. He had modelled the woman in form + of an amphora, with a harmony of curved lines quite sufficient to make him + recognised as the prince of geometers, and he succeeded in amending the + coarseness of the material by the magnificent charm of the form. For + modelling Adam he made use of a less caressing, but more energetic, hand, + forming his body with such order, and in such perfect proportions, that, + applied later by the Greeks to their architecture, those same ordinances + and measures made the beauty of the temples. + </p> + <p> + “You see, my son, that Jehovah applied his best means to render his + creatures worthy of the aerial kisses he expected for them. I shall not + insist on the care he took with a view of making these unions prolific. + The harmony between the sexes is an ample proof of his wisdom in this + regard. And surely at the outset he had reason to congratulate himself on + his shrewdness and ability. + </p> + <p> + “I have said the Sylphs and Salamanders looked on Adam and Eve with that + curiosity, sympathy and tenderness which are the first ingredients of + love. They approached them, and fell into the clever traps Jehovah had + disposed and spread intentionally in the body and on the belly of these + two amphoræ. + </p> + <p> + “The first man and the first woman enjoyed during centuries the delicious + embraces of the genii of the air, which conserved them in eternal youth. + </p> + <p> + “Such was their lot, and such could still be ours. Why was it that the + parents of the human species, fatigued by celestial luxury, should try to + find criminal enjoyments with one another? + </p> + <p> + “But what could you expect, my son? Kneaded of clay they had a taste for + mud. Alas! they became acquainted with one another in the same way as they + had known the genii. + </p> + <p> + “And that was what the demiurge had expressly forbidden them. Afraid, and + with reason, that they would produce between them children as clumsy as + themselves, terrestrial and heavy, he forbade them, under severest + penalties, to approach each other. Such is the sense of Eve’s words: ‘But + of the fruit of the tree which is in the midst of the garden, God hath + said, Ye shall not eat of it, neither shall ye touch it lest ye die.’ For + you well understand, my son, that the apple which tempted wretched Eve was + not the fruit of an apple-tree; that was an allegory the sense of which I + have explained to you. Although imperfect, and sometimes violent and + capricious, Jehovah was too intelligent a demiurge to be offended about an + apple or a pomegranate. One has to be a bishop or a Capuchin to support + such extravagant imaginations. And the proof that the apple was what I + said, is that Eve was stricken by a punishment suitable to her fault. She + had not been told ‘You will digest laboriously,’ but it was said to her + ‘You’ll give birth in pain’; for logic sake what connection can be + established, I beg of you, between an apple and difficult confinement? On + the other hand, the suffering is correctly applied if the fault has been + such as I showed you. + </p> + <p> + “That is, my son, the truthful explanation of original sin. It will teach + you your duty, which is, to keep away from women. To follow this bent is + fatal. All children born by those means are imbecile and miserable.” + </p> + <p> + I was stupefied, and exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “But, sir, could children be born in another way?” + </p> + <p> + “Happily, some are born in another way,” was his reply; “a considerable + number by the union of men with genii of the air. And such are intelligent + and beautiful. By such means were born the giants of whom Hesiod and Moses + speak. Thus also Pythagoras was born, to whose bodily formation his + mother, a Salamander, had contributed a thigh of pure gold. Such also + Alexander the Great, said to have been the son of Olympias and a serpent; + Scipio Africanus, Aristomenes of Messina, Julius Caesar, Porphyry, the + Emperor Julian, who re-established the oath of fire abolished by + Constantine the Apostate, Merlin the enchanter, child of a Sylph and a nun + daughter of Charlemagne; Saint Thomas Aquinas, Paracelsus and, but + recently, M. Van Helmont.” + </p> + <p> + I promised M. d’Asterac, as such were the facts, that I would be willing + to lend myself to the friendship of a Salamander, if one were to be found + obliging enough to wish for me. He assured me that I should meet not one + but a score or more, between whom I should have my free choice. And less + by longing for the adventure than to give him pleasure, I asked the + philosopher how it is possible to enter into communication with these + aerial persons. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing easier,” he replied. “All that’s wanted is a glass ball, the use + of which I’ll explain to you. I have always at home a pretty good number + of such balls, and in my study I’ll very soon give you all necessary + enlightenment. But, for to-day, my son, enough is said of it.” + </p> + <p> + He rose, and walked in the direction of the ferry, where the ferryman + waited for us, lying outstretched on his back and snoring at the moon. As + soon as we had reached the opposite shore he quickly went on, and was soon + lost in the darkness. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV + </h2> + <h3> + Visit to Mademoiselle Catherine—The Row in the Street and my + Dismissal. + </h3> + <p> + A confused sentiment as of a dream remained with me after this long + conversation, but the thoughts of Catherine became keener. In despite of + the sublimities I had been listening to, I was overcome by a powerful + desire to see her, although I had not had any supper. The ideas of + philosophy had not sufficiently penetrated me to cause anything like a + disgust at that pretty girl. I was resolved to follow my good fortune to + its end before becoming the prey of one of those beautiful furies of the + air, who do not want any human rival. My only fear was that Catherine, at + so late an hour, had become tired of waiting for me. So running along the + river bank, and passing the royal bridge at a gallop, I stormed into the + Rue du Bac. Within a single minute I had reached the Rue de Grenelle, + where I heard shouting mixed up with the clashing of swords. The noise + came out of the very house Catherine had described to me. In front of it, + on the pavement, shadows and lanterns were visible, and voices to be + heard. + </p> + <p> + “Help, Jesus! I’m being murdered!... fall on the Capuchin! Forward! Spike + him!... Jesus, Mary, help me!... Look on the pretty favourite lover! On + him! On him! Spike him, rascals, spike him hard!” + </p> + <p> + The windows of the adjoining houses were opened, heads in night-caps + appeared. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly all this noise and bustle passed before me like a hunt in the + forest, and I recognised Friar Ange running away at such a speed that his + sandals hammered on his behind, while three long devils of lackeys, armed + like Swiss guards, followed him closely, larding him with the points of + their javelins. Their master, a young gentleman, thick-set and + ruddy-faced, continued to encourage them by voice and gesture, just as he + would have done with dogs: + </p> + <p> + “Fall on! Fall on! Spike! The beast is tough!” + </p> + <p> + As he came close to me, I said: + </p> + <p> + “Oh! sir, have you no pity?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” he replied, “it’s easily seen that yonder Capuchin has not caressed + your mistress, and you have not surprised madam, whom you see here, in the + arms of this stinking beast. One cannot say anything about her financier, + because one has manners. But a Capuchin cannot be borne. Burn the + brazen-faced hussy!” + </p> + <p> + And he showed me Catherine under the doorway, clad in nothing but a + chemise, her eyes glistening with tears, wringing her hands, more + beautiful than ever, and murmuring in a dying voice, which cut deep into + my soul: + </p> + <p> + “Don’t kill him! It’s Friar Ange, the little friar!” + </p> + <p> + The rascally lackeys returned, announcing that they had given up the + pursuit at the appearance of the watch, but not without driving half a + finger deep their pikes in the holy man’s behind. The night-caps vanished + from the windows, which were closed again, and whilst the young nobleman + talked to his followers, I went up to Catherine, whose tears began to dry + in the pretty folds of her smile. She said to me: + </p> + <p> + “The poor friar is safe, but I trembled for him. Men are terrible. When + they love you they will not listen to anything.” + </p> + <p> + “Catherine,” I said, with no slight grudge, “did you make me come here for + no other purpose than to listen to the quarrels of your friends? Alas! I + have no right to take part in them.” + </p> + <p> + “You would have had, M. Jacques,” she said, “you should have had, if you + had wanted.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” I continued, “you are the most courted lady in Paris. You never + mentioned yonder young gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “I had no occasion to think of him. He came quite unexpectedly.” + </p> + <p> + “And he surprised you with Friar Ange?” + </p> + <p> + “He fancied he saw things which did not occur. He is hot-headed and does + not want to listen to any reason.” + </p> + <p> + The half-opened chemise disclosed under transparent laces a breast swollen + like a beautiful fruit and adorned like a budding rose. I took her in my + arms and covered her bosom with kisses. + </p> + <p> + “Heavens!” she exclaimed, “in the street! Before M. d’ Anquetil, who sees + us.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is M. d’Anquetil?” + </p> + <p> + “Pardi! he is the murderer of Friar Ange. Who else do you fancy he may + be?” + </p> + <p> + “True, Catherine, no others are wanted. Your friends surround you in + sufficient numbers.” + </p> + <p> + “M. Jacques, do not insult me, if you please.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not insult you, Catherine. I acknowledge your charms, to which I + should like to render the same homage that others do.” + </p> + <p> + “M. Jacques, what you have now said smells odiously of the cookshop, of + that old codger who is your father.” + </p> + <p> + “Not so very long ago, Mam’selle Catherine, you were mighty glad to smell + its cooking-stove.” + </p> + <p> + “Fie! the villain! the mean rascal! He outrages a woman!” + </p> + <p> + And now she began to squeak and squeal, and M d’Anquetil left his + servants, came up to us, and pushed her into the house, calling her a + cheat and a rake, went into the passage behind her, and slammed the door + in my face. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV + </h2> + <p> + In the Library with M. Jerome Coignard—A Conversation on Morals—Taken + to M. d’Asterac’s Study—Salamanders again—The Solar Powder—A + Visit and its Consequences. + </p> + <p> + The thought of Catherine occupied my mind all the week following that + vexatious adventure. Her image glittered on the leaves of the folios over + which I bent in the library, close to my dear tutor; so much so that + Plotinus, Olympiodorus, Fabricius, Vossius spoke of nothing else to me + than a tiny damsel in a lace chemise. These visions rendered me lazy. But, + indulgent to others, as to himself, M. Jerome Coignard had a kind smile + for my trouble and distraction. + </p> + <p> + “Jacques Tournebroche,” he said to me, one day, “are you not struck by the + variations in morals during the course of the centuries? The books in this + admirable Asteracian collection witness to the uncertainties of mankind on + this subject. If I reflect upon it, my son, it is to put into your mind + that solid and salutary idea that no good morals are to be found outside + religion, and that the maxims of the philosophers, who pretend to + institute a natural morality, are nothing but whims and babblings of + foolish trash. The rationality of good morals is not to be found in + nature, which in itself is indifferent, ignorant of good or evil. It is in + the divine word, which is not to be trespassed against without after + regret. The laws of humanity are based on utility, and that can only be an + apparent and illusory utility, for nobody knows naturally what is useful + to mankind, nor what is really appropriate to them. And we must not forget + that our habits contain a good moiety of articles which are of prejudice + alone. Upheld by the menace of chastisement, human laws may be eluded by + cunning and dissimulation. Every man capable of reflection stands above + them. Really they are nothing but booby traps. + </p> + <p> + “It is not the same thing, my boy, with laws divine. They are + indefeasible, unavoidable and lasting. Their absurdity is in appearance + only, and hides an inconceivable wisdom. If they wound our reason, it is + because they are superior to it, and agree with the true issues of + mankind, and not with the visible ends. It is useful to observe them when + one has the good luck to know them. Yet I find no difficulty in confessing + that the observance of those laws, contained in the Decalogue and in the + commandments of the Church, is difficult at most times, even impossible + without grace, and that sometimes has to be waited for, because it is a + duty to hope. And therefore we are all miserable sinners. + </p> + <p> + “And that is where the dispositions of the Christian religion must be + admired, which founds salvation principally on repentance. It must not be + overlooked, my boy, that the greatest saints are penitents, and, as + repentance is proportioned to the sin, it is in the greatest sinners that + the material is found for the greatest saints. I could illustrate this + doctrine with scores of admirable examples. But I have said enough to make + you feel that the raw material of sanctity is concupiscence, + incontinencies, all impurities of flesh and mind. After having collected + the raw material nothing signifies but to fashion it according it + theologic art and to model, so to say, a figure of penitence, which is a + matter of a few years, a few days, sometimes of a single moment only, as + is to be seen in the case of a perfect contrition. Jacques Tournebroche, + if you listen well to my sayings, you will not consume yourself in + miserable cares to become an honest man in a worldly sense, and you’ll + exclusively study to satisfy divine justice.” + </p> + <p> + I could not help feeling the elevated wisdom enshrined in the maxims of my + dear, good tutor; I was only afraid that these morals, should they be + exercised without discrimination, would carry man to a disorderly life. I + unfolded my doubts to M. Jerome Coignard, who reassured me in the + following terms: + </p> + <p> + “Jacobus Tournebroche, you do not take note of what I have just expressly + told you, to wit, that what you call disorder is only such in the opinion + of laymen and judges in law—ordinary and ecclesiastical—and in + its bearing on human laws, which are arbitrary and transitory, and, in a + word, to follow these laws is the act of a silly soul. A sensible man does + not pride himself on acting according to the rules in force at the + Châtelet and at the gaol. + </p> + <p> + “He is uneasy about his salvation, and does not think himself dishonoured + by going to heaven by indirect ways as followed by the greatest saints. If + the blessed Pélagie had not followed the same profession by which + Jeannette, the hurdy-gurdy player you know, earned her living, under the + portico of the Church of Saint Benoît le Bétourné, that saint would not + have been compelled to do full and copious penitence; and it is extremely + probable that, after having lived in indifferent and banal chastity, she + would not, at this very moment speak of her, be playing the psaltery + before the tabernacle where the Holy of Holies reposes in his glory. Do + you call disorder, so fine a regulation of a predestinated life? Certainly + not! Leave such mean ways of speech to the Superintendent of Police, who + after his death will hardly find the smallest place behind the + unfortunates whom now he carries ignominiously to the spittel. Beyond the + loss of the soul and eternal damnation there can be no other disorders, + crimes or evils whatsoever in this perishable world, where one and all is + to be ruled and adjusted with regard to a divine world. Confess, + Tournebroche, my boy, that acts the most reprehensible in the opinion of + men can lead to a good end, and do not try to reconcile the justice of men + with the justice of God, which alone is just, not in our sense but with + finality. And now, my boy, you’ll greatly oblige me by looking into + Vossius for the signification of five or six rather obscure words which + the Panopolitan employs, and wherewith one has to do battle in the + darkness of that insidious manner which astonished even the willing heart + of Ajax, as reported by Homer, prince of poets and historians. These + ancient alchemists had a tough style. Manilius, may it not displease M. + d’Asterac, writes on the same subjects with more elegance.” + </p> + <p> + Hardly had my tutor said these last words when a shadow arose between him + and myself. It was that of M. d’Asterac, or rather it was M. d’Asterac + himself, thin and black like a shadow. + </p> + <p> + It may be that he had not heard that talk, maybe he disdained it, for + certainly he did not show any kind of resentment. On the contrary, he + congratulated M. Jerome Coignard on his zeal and knowledge, and further + said that he relied on his enlightenment for the achievement of the + greatest work that man had ever attempted. And turning to me he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“Be so good as to come for a moment to my study, where I intend to make +known to you a secret of consequence.” + + I went with him to the same room where he had first received us, my +tutor and myself, on the day we entered his service. I found there, +exactly as on that occasion, ranged along the walls, the ancient +Egyptians with golden faces. A glass globe of the size of a pumpkin +stood on a table. M. d’Asterac sank on a sofa, and signed to me to take +a seat near him, and having twice or thrice passed a hand covered with +jewels and amulets across his forehead said: +</pre> + <p> + “My son, I do not wish to injure you by believing that, after our + conversation on the Isle of Swans, you still doubt of the existence of + Sylphs and Salamanders, who are as real as men and perhaps more so, if one + measures reality by the duration of the appearances by which it is + displayed, their existence being very much longer than ours. Salamanders + range from century to century in unalterable youth; some of them have seen + Noah, Moses and Pythagoras. The wealth of their recollections and the + freshness of their memory render their conversation attractive to the + utmost. It has been pretended that they gain immortality in the arms of + men, and that the hope of never dying led them into the beds of the + philosophers, But those are fables unfit to seduce a reflecting mind. All + union of sexes, far from ensuring immortality to lovers, is a sign of + death, and we could not know love were we to live indefinitely. It could + not be otherwise with the Salamanders, who look in the arms of the wise + for nothing else but for one single kind of immortality—that is, of + the race. It is also the only one which can be reasonably expected. And, + much as I promise myself to prolong human life in a notable manner—that + is, to extend it over at least five or six centuries—I have never + flattered myself to assure it perpetuity. It would be insane to want to go + against the established rules of nature, Therefore, my son, reject as a + vain fable the idea of immortality to be sucked in with a kiss. It is to + the shame of more than one of the cabalists to have ever conceived such an + idea. But for all that it is quite evident that Salamanders are inclined + to man’s love. You’ll soon experience it yourself. I have sufficiently + prepared you for a visit from them, and as, since the night of your + initiation, you have not had any impure intercourse with a woman you will + obtain the reward of your continency.” + </p> + <p> + My natural candidness suffered by receiving praise which I had merited + against my own will, and I wished to confess to M. d’Asterac my guilty + thoughts. But he did not give me time to do so, and continued with + vivacity: + </p> + <p> + “Nothing now remains for me, my son, but to give you the key which opens + the empire of the genii. That is what I am going to do at once.” + </p> + <p> + Rising he put a hand on the globe which covered one half of the table. + </p> + <p> + “This globe,” he said, “is full of a solar powder which escapes being + visible to you by its own purity. It is much too delicate to be seen by + means of the coarse senses of men. So comes it, my son, that the finest + parts of the universe are concealed from our sight and reveal themselves + only to the learned, provided with apparatus proper for this discovery. + The rivers and the aerial landscapes, for example, remain invisible, even + as their aspect is a thousand times richer and more variegated than the + most beautiful terrestrial landscape. + </p> + <p> + “Know, then, that in this bowl is a solar powder superlatively proper to + exalt the fire we have within us. The effect of this exaltation is + imminent. It consists of a subtlety of the senses allowing us to see and + touch the aerial figures floating around us. As soon as you have broken + the seal which locks the aperture of this globe, and inhaled the escaping + solar powder, you will in this room discover one or more creatures + resembling women by the system of curved outlines forming their bodies, + but much more beautiful than was ever any woman, and who are in fact + Salamanders. No doubt the one I saw last year in your father’s cookshop + will be the first one to appear here to you, as she has a liking for you, + and I strongly counsel you to hasten to comply with her wishes. And now + make yourself easy in that arm-chair, open the globe, and gently inhale + the contents. Very soon you will see all I have announced to you realised, + point by point. I leave you. Good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + And he disappeared in a manner which was strangely sudden. I remained + alone before that glass globe, hesitating to unlock it, afraid lest some + stupefying exhalation should escape from it. I thought that perhaps M. + d’Asterac had put in it, as an artifice, some of those vapours which + benumb those who inhale them and make them dream of Salamanders. I was + still not enough of a philosopher to be desirous of becoming happy by such + means. Possibly, I said to myself, such vapours predispose to madness; and + finally I became defiant enough to think of going to the library to ask + advice of M. Jerome Coignard. But I soon became aware that such would be a + needless trouble; as soon as I began to speak to him of solar powder and + aerial genii he would start: “Jacques Tournebroche, remember, my boy, that + you must never put faith in absurdities, but bring home to your reason all + matters except those of our holy religion. Stuff and nonsense all these + globes and powders, with all the other follies of the cabala and the + spagyric art.” + </p> + <p> + I imagined I could hear him talk like that in the interval between two + pinches of snuff, and I really did not know what to reply to such a + Christian speech. On the other hand, I thought in advance how puzzled I + should be to reply to M. d’Asterac when he inquired of me after news of + the Salamander. What could I say? How was I to avow my reserve and my + abstention without betraying my defiance and fear? And after all, without + being aware of it, I was curious to try the adventure. I am not credulous. + On the contrary I am marvellously inclined to doubt, and by this + inclination to brave common-sense, as well as evidence and everything + else. Of the strangest things that may be told me, I say to myself, “Why + not?” This “Why not?” wronged my natural intelligence in sight of that + globe. This “Why not?” pushed me towards credulity, and it may be + interesting to remark, on this occasion, to believe in nothing means to + believe in everything, and that the mind is not to be kept too free and + too vacant, for fear that commodities of extravagant form and weight + should enter by a loophole, commodities of a kind which could not find + room in minds reasonably and tolerably well furnished with belief. And + while, with my hand on the wax seal, I remembered what my mother had + narrated to me of the magic bottle, my “Why not?” whispered to me that + perhaps, after all, aerial fairies may be visible through the dust of the + sun. But as soon as this idea, having entered into my mind, began to + become easy therein, I found it to be odd, absurd and grotesque. Ideas, + when they impose themselves, very soon become impudent. But few are apt to + be better than pleasant passers-by; and, decidedly, this very one had + somehow an air of madness. During the time I asked myself, “Shall I open + it?” “Shall I not?” the seal, which I had held continuously between my + pressing fingers, broke suddenly in my hand, and the flagon was open. + </p> + <p> + I waited, I observed, I saw nothing, I felt nothing. And I was + disappointed, so much the hope of stepping out of nature is prone and + ready to glide into our souls! Nothing! Not even a vague or confused + illusion, an uncertain image! What I had foreseen occurred. What a + deception! I felt somewhat vexed. Reclined in my arm-chair I vowed to + myself, before all the black-haired Egyptians surrounding me, to close my + soul better in the future to the lies of the cabalists; and once more + recognised my dear teacher’s wisdom and resolved, like him, to be guided + by reason in all matters not connected with faith, Christian and Catholic. + Expecting the visit of a lady Salamander, what silliness! Is it possible + that Salamanders exist? But what is known about it, and “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + Since noon the air was heavy, now it became stifling. Rendered torpid by + long days of quietness and seclusion, I felt a weight on my forehead and + eyes. The approach of a thunderstorm lay heavy on me. I let my arms hang + down, and, with head thrown back, and eyes closed, I glided into a doze + full of golden Egyptians and lustful shadows. In this uncertain state the + sense of love alone was alive in my body, like a fire in the night. How + long it had lasted I could not say, when I was awakened by a sound of + light steps and the rustling of a dress. I opened my eyes and gave a great + shout. + </p> + <p> + A marvellous creature stood before me, clad in black satin, a lace veil on + her head—a dark woman with blue eyes, of resolute features in a + juvenile and pure skin, round cheeks and the mouth animated as by an + invisible kiss. The short skirt let little feet be seen, dancing, jolly, + spirited feet. She held herself upright, but was round, somewhat + thick-set, in her voluptuous perfection. Under the black velvet ribbon + round her throat a little square of her bosom was visible, brown, but + dazzling. She looked on me with an air of curiosity. I have said already + how sleep had rendered me amorous. I rose quickly, and stepped forward. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me,” she said, “I am looking for M. d’Asterac.” + </p> + <p> + I said to her: + </p> + <p> + “Madam, there is no M. d’Asterac. There is you and I. I expected you. You + are a Salamander. I have opened the crystal flagon. You have come. You are + mine.” + </p> + <p> + I took her in my arms and covered with kisses all places my lips could + find uncovered by her dress. + </p> + <p> + She tore herself away and said: + </p> + <p> + “You are mad.” + </p> + <p> + “That is quite natural,” I replied. “Who in my place could remain sane?” + </p> + <p> + She lowered her eyes, blushed, and smiled. I fell at her feet. + </p> + <p> + “As M. d’Asterac is not here,” she said, “I had better retire.” + </p> + <p> + “Remain!” I cried, and bolted the door. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know if he will soon be back?” + </p> + <p> + “No, madam! He will not return for a long time. He left me alone with the + Salamanders. But I want one only, and that one is you.” + </p> + <p> + I lifted her in my arms, carried her to the sofa, fell down on it with + her, and smothered her with kisses. I was out of my senses. She screamed, + I did not hear her; she pushed me back with outstretched hands; her + fingernails scratched me all over, and her vain defence only excited my + frenzy. I pressed, enlaced her, she fell back worn out. Her mollified body + gave way, she closed her eyes and soon, in my triumph, her beautiful arms, + reconciled, pressed me on her bosom. + </p> + <p> + Released, alas! from that delicious embrace, we looked at one another with + surprise. Occupied to get up again decently she put her dress in order and + remained silent. + </p> + <p> + “I love you,” I said. “What is your name?” + </p> + <p> + I did not think her to be a Salamander, and to say the truth never did + think so. + </p> + <p> + “My name is Jahel,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “What! you’re the niece of Mosaïde?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but keep quiet. If he should know—” + </p> + <p> + “What would he do?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! nothing to me—nothing. But to you the worst. He dislikes + Christians.” + </p> + <p> + “And you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I? I dislike the Jews.” + </p> + <p> + “Jahel, do you love me a little?” + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me, sir, that after what we have just now said to one + another, your question is an offence.” + </p> + <p> + “True, mademoiselle, but I try to obtain forgiveness for a vivacity, an + ardour, which did not take the leisure to consult your sentiments.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! monsieur, do not make yourself out to be more guilty than you really + are. All your violence, and all your passion, would not have served you at + all, had I not found you lovable. When I saw you sleeping in that + arm-chair, I liked your looks, waited for your awakening—the rest + you know.” + </p> + <p> + As reply I gave her a kiss, she gave it me back, what a kiss! I fancied + fresh-gathered strawberries melting in my mouth. My desire revived and + passionately I pressed her on my heart. + </p> + <p> + “This time,” she said, “be less hasty, and do not think only of yourself. + You must not be selfish in love. Young men do not sufficiently know that. + But we teach them.” + </p> + <p> + And we immersed ourselves in an unfathomable depth of deliciousness. + </p> + <p> + After that the divine Jahel asked of me: + </p> + <p> + “Have you a comb? I look like a witch.” + </p> + <p> + “Jahel,” I answered, “I have no comb. I had expected a Salamander. I adore + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Adore me, dearest, but remain secret. You do not know Mosaïde.” + </p> + <p> + “What, Jahel. Is he still so terrible as that, at the age of one hundred + and thirty years, of which he has lived sixty-five inside a pyramid?” + </p> + <p> + “I see, my friend, that stories of my uncle have been told you and that + you were simple enough to believe them. Nobody knows his age; I myself am + ignorant of it, but I have always known him as an old man. I know only + that he is robust and of uncommon strength. He has been a banker at + Lisbon, where he killed a Christian he surprised in the arms of my Aunt + Myriam. He took to flight, and carried me with him. Since then he loves me + with the tenderness of a mother. He tells me things that are told to + little children only, and he cries when he sees me asleep.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you live with him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, in the keeper’s lodge, at the other end of the park.” + </p> + <p> + “I know; you reach it by the lane where mandrakes are to be found. How is + it that I did not meet you before? By what sinister destiny, living so + near you, have I lived without seeing you? But what do I say, lived? Is it + to live without knowing you? Are you shut up in yonder lodge?” + </p> + <p> + “It is true I am somewhat of a recluse, and cannot go for walks as I wish, + to the shops, to theatres. Mosaïde’s tenderness does not leave me any + liberty. He guards me jealously, and, besides six small gold cups he + brought with him from Lisbon, he loves but me on earth. As he is much more + attached to me than he was to my Aunt Myriam, he would kill you, dear, + with a better heart than he killed the Portuguese. I warn you so, to + impress the necessity of discretion on you, and because it is not a + consideration which could stop a brave gentleman. Are you of a good + family, my friend?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! no; my father applies himself to a mechanic art, and has a sort of + trade.” + </p> + <p> + “And he is not of any of the professions? Does not belong to the banking + world? No? It is a pity. Well, you’re to be loved for yourself. But speak + the truth. Is M. d’Asterac to be back shortly?” + </p> + <p> + At this name and question a terrible doubt came in my mind. I suspected + the enchanting Jahel to have been sent by the cabalist to play the part of + a Salamander with me. I went so far as to excuse her in my mind of being + the nymph of that old fool. To obtain an immediate explanation I bluntly + and coarsely asked her if she was in the habit of acting the Salamander in + the castle. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t understand you,” she replied, looking at me with eyes full of + innocent surprise. “You speak like M. d’Asterac himself, and I could + believe you to be attacked by his mania also, if I had not proved that you + do not share the aversion to women that he has. He cannot stand any + female, and it is a real annoyance to me to see and speak with him. + Nevertheless I was looking for him when I found you.” + </p> + <p> + The pleasure of being reassured made me again smother her with kisses. + </p> + <p> + She managed to let me see that she had black stockings which, over the + knees, were held up by garters ornamented with diamond buckles and that + sight brought back my mind to ideas pleasant to her. Besides she entreated + me on the welcome subject with much ability and fervour, and I was aware + that she became excited over the game at the very moment I began to get + fatigued from it, However I did my best, and was fortunate enough to spare + the beautiful girl a disgrace which she did not deserve in the least. It + seemed to me that she was not discontented with me. She rose, very + quietly, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Do you really not know if M. d’Asterac will soon be back? I confess to + you that I came to ask him for a small amount of that pension he owes to + my uncle, a trifle only. I very badly want it just now.” + </p> + <p> + I took my purse out and handed her, with due excuses, the three crowns it + contained. It was all that remained of the too rare liberalities of the + cabalist who, professing to dislike money, unluckily forgot to pay me my + salary. + </p> + <p> + I asked Mademoiselle Jahel if I should not have the pleasure of seeing her + again. + </p> + <p> + “You will,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + And we agreed that she should ascend at night-time to my room whenever she + could escape from the lodge, where she was pretty nearly a prisoner. + </p> + <p> + “Take care to remember,” I told her, “that my room is the fourth on the + right of the corridor and Abbé Coignard’s the fifth. The others give + access to the lofts, where two or three scullions lodge, and hundreds of + rats.” + </p> + <p> + She assured me that she would be very careful not to make a mistake, and + would scratch on my door and not on any other. + </p> + <p> + “Besides,” she continued, “your Abbé Coignard seems to be a very good man, + and I am pretty sure that we have in no way to be afraid of him. I looked + at him, through a peephole, on the day he came with you to visit my uncle! + I thought him amiable, though I could not hear what he said. Principally + his nose I thought to be really ingenious and capable. A man with such a + nose ought to be full of expedients and I very much wish to become + acquainted with him. One can but better one’s mind by having intercourse + with people of high spirit. I am only sorry that my uncle was not pleased + with his words and scoffing humour. Mosaïde hates him, and of his capacity + for hate no Christian can form an idea.” + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle,” I replied, “Monsieur l’Abbé Jérôme Coignard is a very + learned man, and he has in addition philosophy and kindness. He knows the + world, and you are quite right in believing him to be a good counsellor. I + regulate myself fully after his advice. But, tell me, did you see me also, + on yonder day, at the lodge, through the peephole you spoke of?” + </p> + <p> + “I saw you,” she said to me, “and I will not hide from you that I was + pleased. But I must return to my uncle. Good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + The same evening, after supper, M. d’Asterac did not fail to ask me for + news of the Salamander. His curiosity troubled me somewhat. My answer was + that the meeting had surpassed all my expectations, but that I thought it + my duty to confine myself to a discretion due to such kind of adventures. + </p> + <p> + “That discretion, my son,” he said, “is not of so much use in your case as + you represent. Salamanders do not want their amours to be kept secret, + they are not ashamed of them. One of those nymphs who loves me does not + know of a sweeter pastime than to engrave my initials enlaced with hers on + the bark of trees, as you can see for yourself by examining the stems of + five or six Scotch firs, the exquisite tops of which you can see from + yonder windows. But have you not, my son, learned that that kind of amour, + truly sublime, far from leaving any fatigue behind, lends to the heart a + new vigour? I am sure that after what passed to-day you’ll employ your + night in translating at least sixty pages of Zosimus the Panopolitan.” + </p> + <p> + I confessed that on the contrary I felt very sleepy, which he explained by + reason of the astonishment produced by such a first meeting. And so the + great man remained convinced that I had had intercourse with a Salamander. + I felt some scruples at deceiving him, but I was compelled to do it and, + besides, he deceived himself to such a degree that it was hardly possible + to add anything to his illusions. So I ascended peacefully to my room, + went to bed, and blew the candle out at the end of the most glorious day + of my life. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI + </h2> + <p> + Jahel comes to my Room—What the Abbé saw on the Stairs—His + Encounter with Mosaïde. + </p> + <p> + Jahel kept her word. On the second day after, she scratched at my door. We + were a great deal more comfortable in my room than we had been in M. + d’Asterac’s study, and what had taken place at our first meeting was but + child’s play in comparison to what love inspired us at our second + opportunity. She tore herself out of my arms at the dawn with a thousand + oaths to join me again very soon, calling me her soul, her life, her + dearest sweetheart. + </p> + <p> + That day I rose very late. When I reached the library, my master was + already sitting over the papyrus of Zosimus, his pen in one hand, his + magnifying-glass in the other, and worthy of the admiration of anyone + having due consideration for good literature. + </p> + <p> + “Jacques Tournebroche,” he said to me, “the principal difficulty of this + reading consists in not a few of the letters being easily confounded with + others, and it is important for the success of the deciphering to make a + list of the characters lending themselves to similar mistakes, because by + not taking such precautions we are running the risk of employing the wrong + terminations, to our eternal shame and just vituperation. I have to-day + already committed some ridiculous blunders. It must have been because, + since daybreak, my mind has been troubled by what I saw last night, and of + which I will give you an account. + </p> + <p> + “I woke up in the morning twilight, and I felt a longing for a glass of + that light white wine about which I made yesterday my compliments to M. + d’Asterac, if you remember. For there exists, my son, between white wine + and the crowing of the cock a sympathy, doubtless dating from Noah’s time, + and I am certain that if Saint Peter, in that sacred night he passed in + the yard of the great high priest, had had just a mouthful of Moselle + claret or only wine of Orleans, he never would have disowned Jesus Christ + before the cock crowed a second time. But in no sense, my boy, have we to + regret that bad action; it was of the utmost importance that the + prophecies were fulfilled, and if Peter, or Cephas, had not committed on + that very night the worst of infamies, he would not now be the greatest + saint in heaven, and the corner-stone of our holy Church, to the confusion + of honest men according to the world, who have to see the keys of their + eternal bliss held by a dastardly knave. O salutary example, which, + drawing man out of the fallacious inspirations of human honour, leads him + on the road of salvation! O masterly disposition of religion! O divine + wisdom, exalting the meek and wretched to the humiliation of the haughty! + O marvel! O mystery! To the eternal shame of the Pharisees and lawyers, a + common mariner of the Lake of Tiberias, who by his gross cowardice had + become the laughing-stock of the kitchen wenches who warmed themselves + with him in the courtyard of the high priest, a churl and a dastard, who + denied his master and his faith before slatterns certainly not so pretty + by far as the chamber-maid of the bailiff’s wife at Séez, wears the triple + crown, the pontifical ring on his finger and rules over princes and + bishops, over kings and emperors, is invested with the right to bind and + loose; the most respectable of men, the most honest dame, cannot enter + heaven unless he gives them admission. + </p> + <p> + “But tell me, Tournebroche, my boy, at what part of my narrative had I + arrived when I got muddled over that great Saint Peter, the prince of + apostles? If I remember well I spoke to you of a glass of white wine I + drank at daybreak. I came down to the pantry in my shirt, and took out of + a certain cupboard, the key of which I had prudently kept by me the day + before, a bottle, the contents of which I emptied with no little pleasure. + Afterwards reascending the stairs I met, between the second and third + flights, a tiny damsel clad as a pierrot, who descended the steps. She + seemed to be mightily afraid, and fled into the farthest corner of the + passage. I followed her, caught her, took her in my arms, and kissed her + in a sudden and irresistible outbreak of sympathy. Don’t blame me, my boy; + in my place you would have done as much, perhaps more. It was a pretty + girl, reminding me of the serving-maid of the bailiff’s wife, but with + more vivacity in her looks. She did not dare to scream. She whispered + breathless in my ear: ‘Leave me, leave me; you’re mad!’ Look here, + Tournebroche, I still have the marks of her finger nails on my wrist. O + that I could keep as vivid on my lips the impression of the kiss she gave + me!” + </p> + <p> + “What, Monsieur Abbé,” I exclaimed, “she gave you a kiss?” + </p> + <p> + “Be sure, my boy, that in my place you would have had one too—that + is to say, if you, as I did, seized the opportunity. I believe I told you + that I held the damsel in close embrace. She tried to fly from me, she + suppressed her screams, she murmured groans. ‘For heaven’s sake, leave me! + It begins to be light, a moment more and I am lost.’ Her fears, her + fright, her danger—who could be barbarous enough not to be affected + by them? I am not inhuman. I gave her freedom at the price of a kiss, + which she gave me quickly. On my word, I never enjoyed a more delicious + one.” + </p> + <p> + At this part of his tale, my dear tutor, raising his nose to sniff a pinch + of snuff, became aware of my confusion and pain, which he thought to be + utter astonishment, and continued to say: + </p> + <p> + “Jacques Tournebroche, all that remains for me to tell will astonish you + still more. To my regret I let the pretty girl go, but curiosity tempted + me to follow her. I went down the stairs after her, saw her cross the + lobby, go out by a little door opening on the fields in the direction + where the park extends farthest, and run up the lane. I followed swiftly. + I was quite sure that she would not go far, dressed as a pierrot and + wearing a night-cap. She took the path wherein the mandrakes dwell. My + curiosity doubled, and I followed her up to Mosaïde’s lodge. At this + moment the hideous Jew appeared at a window in his dressing-gown and + monstrous headgear, like one of those figures who show themselves at the + stroke of noon, outside those old clocks more Gothic and more ridiculous + than the churches wherein they are kept, for the enjoyment of the yokels + and the profit of the beadle. + </p> + <p> + “He discovered me, hidden as I was behind the foliage, at the very moment + when that pretty girl, fleet as Galatea, slipped into the lodge. It looked + as if I had followed her up in the manner, way and habit of those satyrs + of which we have spoken of late when conferring on the finest passages of + Ovid. My dress could but add to such resemblance—did I tell you, my + boy, that I wore only a shirt? Seeing me, Mosaide’s eyes vomited fire. Out + of his dirty yellow greatcoat he drew a neat little stiletto and shook it + through the window with an arm in no way weighed down by age. He roared + bilingual curses on me. Yes, Tournebroche, my grammatical knowledge + authorises me to say that his curses were bilingual, that Spanish, or + rather Portuguese, was mixed in them with Hebrew. I went into a rage at + not being able to catch their exact sense, as I do not know these + languages, although I can recognise them by certain sounds which are + frequent when they are spoken. It is very possible that he accused me of + wanting to corrupt that girl, whom I believe to be his niece Jahel, whom, + as you will remember, M. d’Asterac has repeatedly mentioned to us. As such + his invectives were rather flattering to me, as I have become, my boy, by + the progress of age and the fatigues of an agitated life, so that I cannot + aspire any longer to the love of juvenile maidens. Alas! should I become a + bishop that is a dish of which I shall never taste. I am sorry for it. But + it is no good to be closely attached to the perishable things of this + world, and we are compelled to leave what leaves us. Accordingly Mosaïde, + brandishing his stiletto, squalled out his hoarse sounds mingled with + sharp yelpings in such a manner that I felt insulted, as well as + vituperated, in a chant or song. And without flattering myself, my dear + boy, I can say that I have been treated as a rake and a seducer in a tune + solemn and ceremonious. When yonder Mosaide brought his imprecations to an + end, I endeavoured to let him have my reply in two languages also. I + replied in a mixture of Latin and French that he was a manslayer and a + sacrilegist, who murdered tiny babes and stabbed sacred hosts. The fresh + morning wind blowing between my naked legs reminded me that I wore a shirt + only. I felt somewhat embarrassed, because it is evident, my boy, that a + man without breeches is in a state highly inconvenient to speak of sacred + truth, to confound error and to prevent crime. Withal I gave him a + prodigious sketch of his outrages, and I threatened him with the terrors + of justice both human and divine.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you say, my good master?” I nearly screamed, “yonder Mosaïde, who + has such a pretty niece, kills newborn babes and stabs hosts?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know anything about him,” M. Jérôme Coignard replied, “and + besides cannot know it. But those crimes are his, they are of his race, + and I can charge him with them without slandering him. I place on that + miscreant’s back a long array of flagitious ancestors. You cannot have + remained ignorant of all that is said of the Jews and of their abominable + rites. You may see in an ancient cosmography of Munster in Westphalia a + drawing representing some Jews mutilating a child; they are recognisable + by the wheel or round of cloth they wear on their clothes in sign of + infamy. For all that I do not believe these misdeeds to be of their daily + and domestic use. I also doubt that the majority of Israelites are + inclined to outrage the holy wafers. To accuse them of doing so would be + to believe that they are as deeply convinced of the divinity of our Lord + Jesus Christ as we are ourselves. Sacrilege without faith is unbelievable, + and the Jew who stabbed a host rendered by that very deed a sincere homage + to the truth of transubstantiation. These are fables, my boy, to be left + to the ignorant and, if I throw them in the face of that horrible Mosaïde, + I do it less by the counsels of sound criticism than by the impressive + suggestions of resentment and anger.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! sir,” I said, “you might have contented yourself with reproaching him + for the murder of the Portuguese he killed in the frenzy of his jealousy; + that certainly was a murder.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” broke out my good master. “Mosaïde has killed a Christian? He is + dangerous, my dear Tournebroche. You’ll have to come to the same + conclusion that I have arrived at myself about this adventure. It is quite + certain that his niece is the mistress of M. d’Asterac, whose room she + doubtless had just left when I met her on the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “I am too religious a man not to be sorry that so amiable a person comes + of the Jewish race, who crucified Jesus Christ. Alas! do not doubt, my + dear boy, that villain Mordecai is the uncle of an Esther who does not + need to macerate six months in myrrh to become worthy of the bed of a + king. That old spagyric raven is not the man fit for such a beauty, and I + am rather inclined to take an interest in her myself. + </p> + <p> + “Mosaïde will have to hide her very secretly and carefully; should she + show herself once only at the promenade or the theatre, she would have all + the world at her feet on the following morning. Don’t you wish to see her, + Tournebroche?” + </p> + <p> + I replied that I wished it very much. And then both of us drove deeper in + our Greek. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII + </h2> + <p> + Outside Mademoiselle Catherine’s House—We are invited in by M. + d’Anquetil—The Supper—The Visit of the Owner and the horrible + Consequences. + </p> + <p> + That evening my tutor and I happened to be in the Rue du Bac, and as it + was rather warm M. Jerome Coignard said to me: + </p> + <p> + “Jacques Tournebroche, my son, would it be agreeable to you to turn to the + left, into the Rue de Grenelle, in quest of a tavern—that’s to say, + to some place where we could get a pot of wine for two sous? I am rather + short of cash, my boy, and strongly suppose you to be no better off. M. + d’Asterac, who possibly can make gold, does not give any to his + secretaries and servants, as we well know, to our cost, you and I. He + leaves us in a lamentable state. I have never a penny in my pocket, and it + will become necessary to remedy that evil by industry and artifice. It is + a fine thing to bear poverty with an even mind, like Epictetus of glorious + memory. But it is an exercise I am tired of and which has become tedious + by habit. I feel it is high time for a change of virtue, and to insinuate + myself into the possession of wealth without being possessed by it, which + certainly is the noblest state to be reached by the soul of a philosopher. + I shall feel myself obliged, very soon, to earn profits of some kind to + show that my sagacity has not failed me during my prosperity. I am in + search of the means to reach such an issue; my mind is occupied by it, + Tournebroche.” + </p> + <p> + And as my dear tutor spoke with a noble distinction of that matter, we + came near the pretty dwelling wherein M. de la Gueritude had lodged + Mademoiselle Catherine. “You’ll recognise it, she had said to me, by the + roses on the balcony.” There was not light enough to see the roses, but I + fancied I could smell them. Advancing a few yards I saw her at the window + watering flowers. She recognised me, laughed, and threw me kisses with her + chubby little hand. Upon that a hand passing through the open window + slapped her cheek. In her surprise she let the water jug slip out of her + hand, it fell down into the street, at a hair’s breadth from my tutor’s + head. The slapped beauty disappeared from the window, and the ear-boxer + appeared; he leaned out and shouted: + </p> + <p> + “Thank God, sir, you are not the Capuchin. I cannot stand seeing my + mistress throw kisses to that stinking beast, who continually prowls under + this window. For once I have not to blush at her choice. You look quite an + honest man, and I believe I have seen you before. Do me the honour to come + up. Within a supper is prepared. You’ll do me a real favour to partake of + it, as well as the abbé, who has just had a pot of water thrown over his + head, and shakes himself like a wetted dog. After supper we’ll have a game + of cards, and at daybreak we’ll go hence to cut one another’s throats. But + that will be purely and simply an act of civility and only to do you + honour, sir, for, in truth, that girl is not worth the thrust of a sword. + She is a hussy. I’ll never see her any more.” + </p> + <p> + I recognised in the speaker, the Monsieur d’Anquetil whom I had seen a + short time ago excite his followers so vehemently to spike Friar Ange. Now + he spoke with courtesy and treated me as a gentleman. I understood all the + favour he conferred on me by his consent to cut my throat. Nor was my dear + tutor less sensible of so much urbanity, and after having shaken himself + he said to me: + </p> + <p> + “Jacques Tournebroche, my son, we cannot say nay to such a gracious + invitation.” + </p> + <p> + Already two lackeys had come down bearing torches. They led us to a room + where a collation had been prepared on a table lit up by wax candles + burning in two silver candelabra. M. d’Anquetil invited us to be seated, + and my good master tied his napkin round his throat. He already had a + thrush on his fork when heart-rending sobs were to be heard. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t take any notice of yonder noise,” said M. d’Anquetil, “it’s only + Catherine, whom I have locked in that room.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! sir; you must forgive her,” said my kind-hearted tutor, looking sadly + on the gold-brown toasted little bird on his fork. “The pleasantest meat + tastes bitter when seasoned with tears and moans. Could you have the heart + to let a woman cry? Reprieve this one, I beg of you! Is she then so + blamable for having thrown a kiss to my young pupil, who was her neighbour + and companion in the days of their common mediocrity, at a time when this + pretty girl’s charms were only famous under the vine arbour of the <i>Little + Bacchus</i>? It was but an innocent action, as much so as a human, and + particularly a woman’s, action can ever be innocent, and altogether free + of the original stain. Allow me also to say, sir, that jealousy is a + Gothic sentiment, a sad reminder of barbaric customs, which has no + business to survive in a delicate, well-born soul.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur l’Abbé,” inquired M. d’Anquetil, “on what grounds do you presume + me to be jealous? I am not! But I cannot stand a woman mocking me.” + </p> + <p> + “We are playthings of the winds,” said my tutor, and sighed. “Everything + laughs at us, the sky, the stars, rain and shadow, zephyr and light and + woman. Let Catherine sup with us. She is pretty and will enliven our + table. Whatever she may have done, that kiss and the rest, do not render + her the less pleasant to look at. The infidelities of women do not spoil + their beauty. Nature, pleased to adorn them, is indifferent to their + faults; follow her, and forgive Catherine.” + </p> + <p> + I seconded my tutor’s entreaties, and M. d’Anquetil consented to free the + prisoner. He went to the door of the room from whence the cries came, + unlocked it, and called Catherine, whose only reply was to redouble her + wailing. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” her lover said to us, “there she is lying flat on her belly, + her head plunged in the pillows, and at every sob raising her rump + ridiculously. Look at that. It is for such we take so much trouble and + commit so many absurdities! Catherine, come to supper.” + </p> + <p> + But Catherine did not move, and continued to cry. He pulled her by the + arm, by the waist. She resisted. He became more pressing, and said + caressingly: + </p> + <p> + “Come, darling, get up.” + </p> + <p> + But she was stubborn, would not change place, and stuck there, holding to + pillows and mattress. + </p> + <p> + At last her lover lost patience, swore, and shouted rudely: + </p> + <p> + “Get up, slut!” + </p> + <p> + At once she got up, and, smiling amid her tears, took his arm and came + with him to the dining-room, looking the very picture of a happy victim. + </p> + <p> + She sat down between M. d’Anquetil and me, her head inclined on the + shoulder of her lover the while her foot felt for mine under the table. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” said our host, “forgive my vivacity, an impulse I cannot + regret, because it gives me the honour to entertain you at this place. To + say the truth, I cannot endure all the whims of this pretty girl, and I + have been very suspicious since I surprised her with her Capuchin.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear friend,” Catherine said, pressing at the sama time her foot on + mine, “your jealousy goes astray. You should know that my only liking is + for M. Jacques.” + </p> + <p> + “She jests,” said M. d’Anquetil. + </p> + <p> + “Do not doubt of it,” said I. “It is quite evident that she loves you, and + you alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Without flattering myself,” he replied, “I have somehow attracted her + attachment. But she is coquettish and fickle.” + </p> + <p> + “Give me something to drink,” said the abbe. + </p> + <p> + M. d’Anquetil passed him the demijohn and exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “By gad! abbé, you who belong to the Church, you’ll tell us why women love + Capuchins.” + </p> + <p> + M. Coignard wiped his lips and said: + </p> + <p> + “The reason is that Capuchins love humbly, and never refuse anything. + Another reason is that neither reflection nor courtesy weakens their + natural instincts. Sir, yours is a generous wine.” + </p> + <p> + “You do me too much honour,” replied M. d’Anquetil. “It is M. de la + Guéritude’s. I have taken his mistress. I may as well take his bottles.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing is more equitable,” said my tutor. “I see, with pleasure, that + you rise above prejudices.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not praise me, abbe, more than I deserve. My birth renders easy to me + what may be difficult for the vulgar. A commoner is compelled to have some + restraint in all his doings. He is tied down to rigid probity; but a + gentleman enjoys the honour of fighting for his king and his pleasure, and + does not need to encumber himself with foolish trifles. I have seen active + service under M. de Villars, and in the War of Succession, and have also + run the risk of being killed without any reason in the battle of Parma. + The least you can do is to leave me free to lick my servants, to balk my + creditors, and take, if it please me, the wives of my friends—likewise + their mistresses.” + </p> + <p> + “You speak nobly,” said my good master, “and you are careful to maintain + the prerogatives of the nobility.” + </p> + <p> + “I have not,” replied M. d’Anquetil, “those scruples which intimidate the + crowd of ordinary men, and which I consider good only to stop the timorous + and restrain the wretched.” + </p> + <p> + “Well spoken!” said my tutor. + </p> + <p> + “I do not believe in virtue,” replied the other. + </p> + <p> + “You’re right,” said my master again. “With his quite peculiar shape, the + human animal could not be virtuous without being somewhat deformed. Look, + for an example, on this pretty girl supping with us; on her beautiful + bosom, her marvellously rounded form, and the rest. In what part of her + enchanting body could she lodge a grain of virtue? There is no room for + it; everything is so firm, so juicy, solid, and plump! Virtue, like the + raven, nests in ruins. Her dwellings are the cavities and wrinkles of the + human body. I myself, sir, who, since my childhood, have meditated over + the austere principles of religion and philosophy, could not insinuate + into myself a minimum of virtue otherwise than by means of constitutional + flaws produced by sufferings and age. And ever more I absorbed less virtue + than pride. In doing so I got into the habit of addressing to the Divine + Creator of this world the following prayer: ‘My Lord, preserve me from + virtue if it is to lead me from godliness.’ Ah! godliness; this it is + possible and necessary to attain. That is our decent ending. May we reach + it some day! In the meantime, give me something to drink.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll confess,” said M. d’Anquetil, “that I do not believe in a God.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, for once, sir, I must blame you,” said the abbé “One must believe in + God, and all the truths of our holy religion.” + </p> + <p> + M. d’Anquetil protested. + </p> + <p> + “You make game of us, abbé, and take us to be worse ninnies than we really + are. As I have said, I do not believe either in God or devil, and I never + go to Mass—the king’s Mass alone excepted. The sermons of the + priests are stories for old women, bearable, perhaps, in such times as + when my grandmother saw the Abbé de Choisy, dressed as a woman, distribute + the holy bread at the Church of Saint Jacques du Haut Pas. In those times + there may have been religion; to-day there is none, thank God!” + </p> + <p> + “By all the Saints and all the devils, don’t speak like that, my friend,” + exclaimed Catherine. “As sure as that pie stands on this table God exists! + And if you want a proof of it, let me say, that when, last year, on a + certain day, I was in direful distress and penury, I went, on the advice + of Friar Ange, to burn a wax candle in the Church of the Capuchins, and on + the following I met M. de la Guéritude at the promenade, who gave me this + house, with all the furniture it contains, the cellar full of wine, some + of which we enjoy to-night, and sufficient money to live honestly.” + </p> + <p> + “Fie! fie!” said M. d’Anquetil, “the idiot makes God Almighty interfere in + dirty affairs. This shocks and wounds one’s feelings, even if one is an + atheist.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear sir,” said my good tutor, “it is a great deal better to + compromise God in dirty business, as does that simple-minded girl, than, + as you do, to chase Him out of the world He has created. If He has not + expressly sent that burly contractor to Catherine, His creature, He at + least suffered her to meet him. We are ignorant of His ways, and what this + simpleton says contains more truth, maybe mixed and alloyed with + blasphemy, than all the vain words a reprobate draws out of the emptiness + of his heart. Nothing is more despicable than the libertinism of mind that + the youth of our days make a show of. Your words make me shiver. Am I to + reply to them by proofs out of the Holy Scriptures and the writings of the + fathers? Shall I make you hear God speaking to the patriarchs and to the + prophets: <i>Si locutus est Abraham et semini ejus in saecula?</i> Shall I + spread out before you the traditions of the Church? Invoke against you the + authority of both Testaments? Blind you with Christ’s miracles, and His + words as miraculous as His deeds? No! I will not arm myself with those + holy weapons. I fear too much to pollute them in such a fight, which is + not at all solemn. In her prudence the Church warns us not to risk turning + edification into a scandal. Therefore I will not speak, sir, of that + wherewith I have been fed on the steps of sanctuaries. But, without + violating the chaste modesty of my soul, and without exposing to + profanation the sacred mysteries, I’ll show you God overawing human + reason, I’ll show you it by the philosophy of pagans, and by the + tittle-tattle of ungodly persons. Yes, sir, I’ll make you avow that you + recognise Him, against your own free will. Much as you want to pretend He + does not exist you cannot but agree that, if a certain order prevails in + this world, such order is divine—flows out of the spring and + fountain of all order.” + </p> + <p> + “I agree,” replied M. d’Anquetil, reclining in his armchair and fondling + his finely shaped calves. + </p> + <p> + “Therefore, take care,” said my good tutor. “When you say that God does + not exist what else are you doing but linking thought, directing reason, + and manifesting in your innermost soul, the principle of all thought, and + all reason, which is God? Is it possible only to attempt to establish that + He is not, without illuminating, by the most paltry reasoning, which still + is reasoning, some remains of the harmony He has established in the + universe?” + </p> + <p> + “Abbé,” replied M. d’Anquetil, “you are a humorous sophist. It is well + known in our days that this world is the work of chance, and it is + superfluous to speak of a providence, since natural philosophers have + discovered, by means of their telescopes, that winged frogs are living on + the moon.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir,” replied my good master, “I am in no way angry that winged + frogs are living on the moon; such kind of marsh-birds are very worthy + inhabitants of a world which has not been sanctified by the blood of our + Lord Jesus Christ. True, we only know the minor part of the universe, and + it is quite possible, as M. d’Asterac says—who is a bit of a fool—that + this earth is no more than a spot of mud in the infinity of worlds. Maybe + the astronomer Copernicus was not altogether dreaming when he taught that, + mathematically, the earth is not the centre of creation. I have also read + that an Italian of the name of Galileo, who died miserably, shared + Copernicus’ opinion, and in our days we see little M. de Fontenelle + entertaining the same ideas. But all this is but a vain imagination, fit + only to unhinge weak minds. What does it matter if the physical world is + larger or smaller, of one shape or another? It is quite sufficient that it + can be duly considered only by intelligence and reason for God to be + manifest therein. + </p> + <p> + “If a wise man’s meditations could be of some use to you, sir, I will + inform you how such proof of God’s existence, better than the proof of St. + Anselm, and quite independent of that resulting from Revelation, appeared + to me suddenly in unclouded limpidity. It was at Séez, five and twenty + years ago when I was the bishop’s librarian. The gallery windows opened on + a courtyard where, every morning, I saw a kitchen wench clean the + saucepans. She was young, tall, sturdy. A slight down, shadowlike, over + her lips lent irritating and proud gracefulness to her countenance. Her + entangled hair, meagre bosom, and long, naked arms were worthy of an + Adonis or a Diana. She was of a boyish beauty. I loved her for it, loved + her strong, red hands. All in all that girl evoked in me a longing as rude + and brutal as herself. You know how imperious such longings are. I made + her understand by sign and word. Without the slightest hesitation she + quickly let me know that my longings were not stronger than hers, and + appointed the very next night for a meeting, to take place in the loft, + where she slept on the hay, by gracious permission of the bishop, whose + saucepans she cleaned. Impatiently I waited for the night. When at last + her shadow covered the earth I climbed, by means of a ladder, to the loft, + where the girl expected me. My first thought was to embrace her, my second + to admire the links which brought me into her arms. For, sir, a young + ecclesiastic—a kitchen wench—a ladder—a bundle of hay. + What a train! What regulation! What a concourse of pre-established + harmonies! What a concatenation of cause and effect! What a proof of God’s + existence! I was strangely struck by it, and mightily glad I am to be able + to add this profane demonstration to the reasons furnished by theology, + which are, however, amply sufficient.” + </p> + <p> + “Abbé,” said Catherine, “the only weak point in your story is that the + girl had a meagre bosom. A woman without breasts is like a bed without + pillows. But don’t you know, d’Anquetil, what we might do?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said he, “play a game of ombre, which is played by three.” + </p> + <p> + “If you will,” she said. “But, dear, have the pipes brought in. Nothing is + pleasanter than to smoke a pipe of tobacco when drinking wine.” + </p> + <p> + A lackey brought the cards and pipes, which we lit. Soon the room was full + of dense smoke, wherein our host and the Abbé Coignard played gravely at + piquet. + </p> + <p> + Luck followed my dear tutor up to the moment when M. d’Anquetil, fancying + he saw him for the third time score fifty-five when he had only made forty + points, called him a Greek, a villainous trickster, a Knight of + Transylvania, and threw a bottle at his head, which broke on the table, + flooding it with wine. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir,” said the abbé, “you’ll have to take the trouble to open + another bottle: we are thirsty.” + </p> + <p> + “With pleasure,” replied M. d’Anquetil. “But, abbé, know that a gentleman + does not mark points he has not made, and does not cheat at cards except + at the king’s card-table, round which all sorts of people are assembled, + to whom one owes nothing. On any other table it is a vile action. Abbé, + say, do you want to be looked on as an adventurer?” + </p> + <p> + “It is remarkable,” said my good tutor, “that you blame at cards or dice a + practice so much commended in the art of war, politics and trade; in each + of these people glorify themselves by correcting the injuries of fortune. + It is not that I do not pique myself on honesty when playing at cards. + Thank God, I always play straight, and you must have been dreaming, sir, + when you fancied I had marked points I did not make. Had it been + otherwise, I would appeal to the example given by the blessed Bishop of + Geneva, who did not scruple to cheat at cards. But I cannot defend myself + against the reflection that at play men are much more sensitive than in + serious business, and that they employ the whole of their probity at the + backgammon board, where it incommodes them but indifferently, whereas they + put it entirely in the background in a battle or a treaty of peace, where + it would be troublesome. Polyænus, sir, has written, in the Greek language + a book on Stratagems, wherein is shown to what excess deceit is pushed by + the great leaders.” + </p> + <p> + “Abbé,” said M. d’Anquetil, “I have not read your Polyænus, and do not + think I ever shall read him. But like every true gentleman, I have been to + the wars. I have served the king for eighteen months. It is the noblest of + all professions. I’ll tell you exactly what war is. I may tell the secret + of it, as nobody is present to listen but yourself, some bottles, yonder + gentleman whom I intend to kill very shortly, and that girl, who begins to + undress herself.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Catherine, “I undress, and will keep only my chemise on, + because I feel too hot.” + </p> + <p> + “Well then,” M. d’Anquetil continued, “whatever may be printed of it in + the gazettes, war consists, above all things, of stealing the pigs and + chickens of peasants. Soldiers in the fields have no other occupation.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” said M. Coignard, “and in days of yore it was the saying + in Gaul that the soldier’s best friend was Madame Marauding. But I beg of + you not to kill my pupil, Jacques Tournebroche.” + </p> + <p> + “Ouf!” exclaimed Catherine, arranging the lace of her chemise on her + bosom. “Now I feel easier.” + </p> + <p> + “Abbé,” replied M. d’Anquetil, “honour compels me to do it.” + </p> + <p> + But my kind-hearted tutor went on: + </p> + <p> + “Sir, Jacques Tournebroche is very useful to me for the translation, I + have undertaken, of Zosimus the Panopolitan. I would give you many thanks + not to fight him before the finishing touch has been given to that grand + work.” + </p> + <p> + “To the deuce with your Zosimus,” said M. d’Anquetil. “To the deuce with + him! Do you hear, abbé! I’ll send him to the deuce, as a king would do + with his first mistress.” + </p> + <p> + And he sang: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Pour dresser un jeune courrier + Et l’affermir sur l’étrier + Il lui fallait une routière + Laire lan laire.” + </pre> + <p> + “What’s that Zosimus?” + </p> + <p> + “Zosimus, sir, Zosimus of Panopolis, was a learned Greek, who flourished + at Alexandria in the third century of the Christian era, and wrote + treatises on the spagyric art.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you fancy it matters to me? Why do you translate it? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Battons le fer quand il est chaud + Dit-elle, en faisant sonner haut + Le nom de sultan première + Laire lan laire.” + </pre> + <p> + “Sir,” said my dear tutor, “I quite agree with you; there is no practical + utility in it, and by it the course of the world will not be changed in + the slightest. But making clearer by annotations and comments this + treatise, which that Greek compiled for his sister Theosebia—” + </p> + <p> + Catherine interrupted him by singing in a high-pitched voice: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Je veux en dépit des jaloux + Qu’on fasse duc mon epoux + Lasse de le voir secretairev + Laire lan laire.” + </pre> + <p> + And my tutor continued: + </p> + <p> + “—I contribute to the treasure of knowledge gathered by erudite men, + and bring forward one stone of my own for a monument to true history, + which is a better one than the chronicles of war and treaties; for, sir, + the nobility of man—” + </p> + <p> + Catherine continued to sing: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Je sais bien qu’on murmurera + Que Paris nous chansonnera + Mais tant pis pour le sot vulgaire + Laire lan laire.” + </pre> + <p> + And my dear tutor went on: + </p> + <p> + “—is thought. And concerning that, it is not indifferent to know + what idea the Egyptians had formed of the nature of metals and the + qualities of the primitive substance.” + </p> + <p> + The Abbé Jerôme Coignard, having come to the end of his discourse, emptied + a big glass of wine, while Catherine sang: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Par l’épée ou par le fourreau + Devenir due est toujours beau + Il n’importe le maniére + Laire lan laire.” + </pre> + <p> + “Abbé,” said M. d’Anquetil, “you do not drink, and in spite of such + abstinence you lose your reason. In Italy, during the War of Succession, I + was under the orders of a brigadier who translated Polybius. But he was an + idiot. Why translate Zosimus?” + </p> + <p> + “If you want my true reason,” replied the abbé, “because I find some + sensuality in it.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s something like!” protested M. d’Anquetil. “But in what can M. + Tournebroche, who at this moment is caressing my mistress, assist you?” + </p> + <p> + “With the knowledge of Greek I have given him.” + </p> + <p> + M. d’Anquetil turned round to me and said: + </p> + <p> + “What, sir, you know Greek! You are not then a gentleman?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” I replied, “I am not. My father is the banner-bearer of the + Guild of Parisian Cooks.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, under such conditions it is impossible for me to kill you. Kindly + accept my excuses. But, abbé, you don’t drink. You imposed upon me. I + believed you to be a real good tippler, and wished you to become my + chaplain as soon as I could set up my own establishment.” + </p> + <p> + However, M. Coignard did drink all that the bottle contained, and + Catherine, inclining to me, whispered in my ear: + </p> + <p> + “Jacques, I feel that I shall never love anyone but you.” + </p> + <p> + These words, spoken by a really fine woman clad in no other wrapper than a + chemise, troubled me to the extreme. Catherine ended by fuddling me + entirely, by making me drink out of her own glass, an action passing + unobserved in the confusion of a supper which had overheated the heads of + us all. + </p> + <p> + M. d’Anquetil knocked off the neck of a bottle on the corner of the table + and filled our bumpers; from this moment on, I cannot give a reliable + account of what was said and done around me. One incident I remember: + Catherine treacherously emptying her glass into her lover’s neck, between + the nape and the collar of his coat; and M. d’Anquetil retorting by + pouring the contents of two or three bottles over the girl. Wearing + nothing beyond her chemise, it changed Catherine into a kind of + mythological figure of a humid species like nymphs and naiads. She cried + herself into a rage and twisted in convulsions. + </p> + <p> + At that very moment, in the silence of the night, we heard knocks at the + house door. We became suddenly motionless and dumb, like people bewitched. + </p> + <p> + The knocks soon redoubled in strength and frequency. M. d’Anquetil was the + first to break the silence by questioning himself aloud, swearing horribly + the while, who the deuce the pesterers could be. My good tutor, to whom + the most ordinary circumstances often inspired admirable maxims, rose and + said with unction and gravity: + </p> + <p> + “What does it matter whose hand knocks so violently at closed doors for a + vulgar, perhaps ridiculous, reason? Do not let us seek to know, and + consider them as knocking on the door of our hardened and corrupted souls. + At each knock let us say to ourselves: This one is to give us notice to + amend and think on the salvation we neglect in the turmoil of our + pleasures, that other one is to remind us of eternity. In that way we + shall draw the utmost profit out of an incident which, after all, is as + paltry as it is frivolous.” + </p> + <p> + “You’re humorous, abbé,” said M. d’Anquetil; “to judge by the sturdiness + of their knocks, they’ll burst the door open.” + </p> + <p> + And as a fact the knocker resounded like thunder. + </p> + <p> + “They are robbers,” exclaimed the soaked girl. “Jesus! We shall be + massacred; it is our chastisement for having sent away the little friar. + Many times I have told you. M. d’Anquetil, that misfortune comes to houses + from which a Capuchin has been driven.’ + </p> + <p> + “Hear the stupid!” replied M. d’Anquetil. “That damned monk makes her + believe any imbecility he chooses to dish her up. Thieves would be more + polite, or at least more discreet. I rather think it is the watch.” + </p> + <p> + “The watch! Worse and worse,” said Catherine. + </p> + <p> + “Bah!” M. d’Anquetil exclaimed, “we’ll lick them.” + </p> + <p> + My dear tutor took the precaution to put one bottle in one of his pockets, + and as an equipoise another bottle in the other pocket. The house shook + all over from the furious knocks. M. d’Anquetil, whose military qualities + were aroused by the knocker’s onslaught, after reconnoitring, exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Ah! Ah! Do you know who knocks? It is M. de la Gueritude with his + full-bottomed periwig and two big flunkeys carrying lighted torches.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s not possible,” said Catherine, “at this very moment he is in bed + with his old woman.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it is his ghost,” said M. d’Anquetil. “And the ghost also wears his + periwig, which is so ridiculous that any self-respecting spectre would + refuse to copy it.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you speak the truth, and not jeer at me?” asked Catherine. “Is it + really M. de la Guéritude?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s himself, Catherine, if I may believe my own eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I am lost!” exclaimed the poor girl. “Women are indeed unhappy! They + are never left in peace. What will become of me? Would you not hide, + gentlemen, in some of the cupboards?” + </p> + <p> + “That could be done,” said M. Jerome Coignard, “as far as we are + concerned, but how are we to hide all those empty bottles, mostly smashed, + or at least broken necked; the remains of that demijohn M. d’Anquetil + threw at me; that tablecloth; those plates, candelabra and mademoiselle’s + chemise, which in its soaked state is nothing but a transparent veil + encircling her beauty?” + </p> + <p> + “It is true,” said Catherine, “yonder idiot has drenched my chemise, and I + am catching cold. But listen. Perhaps M. d’Anquetil could hide in the top + room, and I would make the abbé my uncle and Jacques my brother.” + </p> + <p> + “No good at all,” said M. d’Anquetil. “I’ll go myself and kindly ask M. de + la Gueritude to have supper with us.” + </p> + <p> + We urged him, all of us—my tutor, Catherine and I—to keep + quiet; we entreated him, hung on his neck. It was useless. He got hold of + a candelabra and descended the stairs. Trembling we followed him. He + unlocked the door. M. de la Guéritude was there, exactly as M. d’Anquetil + had described him, with his periwig, between two flunkeys bearing torches. + M. d’Anquetil saluted with the utmost correctness and said: + </p> + <p> + “Accord us the favour to come in, sir. You’ll find some persons as amiable + as singular. Tournebroche, to whom Mam’selle Catherine throws kisses from + the window, and a priest who believes in God.” + </p> + <p> + Wherewith he bowed respectfully. + </p> + <p> + M. de la Gueritude was of the dry sort, very tall, and little inclined to + the enjoyment of a joke. That of M. d’Anquetil provoked him strongly, and + his anger rose when he saw my good tutor, one bottle in hand and two + peeping out of his pockets, and by the look of Catherine with her wet + chemise sticking to her body. + </p> + <p> + “Young man,” he said in an icy fit of passion to M. d’Anquetil, “I have + the honour to know your father, of whom I will inquire, not later than + to-morrow, the name of the town to which the king shall send you to + meditate over the shame of your behaviour and impertinence. That worthy + nobleman, to whom I have lent some money I do not reclaim, can refuse me + nothing. And our well-beloved Prince, who is in precisely the same + position as your father, has always a kindness for me. Consider it a + matter done. I have settled, thank God, others more difficult. Now as to + that lady yonder, of whom neither repentance nor improvement can be + expected. I’ll say to-morrow before noon, two words to the Lieutenant of + Police, whom I know to be well disposed, to send her to the spittel. I + have nothing else to say to you. This house is my property, I have paid + for it and I intend to enter when I like.” Then, turning to his flunkeys, + and pointing out my tutor and myself with his walking stick, he said: + </p> + <p> + “Throw these two drunkards out.” + </p> + <p> + M. Jérome Coignard was commonly of an exemplary forbearance, and he used + to say that he owed his gentleness to the vicissitudes of life; chance + having treated him as the sea treats the pebbles—that is, polishing + them by means of the rolling of flood and ebb. He could easily stand + insults, as much by Christian spirit as by philosophy. But what helped him + best thereto was his deep-rooted contempt of mankind, not excepting + himself. However, for once he lost all measure and forgot all prudence. + </p> + <p> + “Hold your tongue, vile publican,” he shouted and brandished a bottle like + a crowbar. “If yonder rascals dare to approach me I’ll smash their heads, + to teach them respect for my cloth, which proves in an ample way my sacred + calling.” + </p> + <p> + In the faint glimmer of the torches, shiny from sweat, his eyes starting + out of their sockets, his coat unbuttoned, and his big belly half out of + his breeches, he looked a fellow not easy to be got rid of. The lackeys + hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Out with him, out with him,” shouted M. de la Guéritude; “out with this + bag of wine! Can’t you see that all you have to do is to push him in the + gutter, where he’ll remain till the scavengers throw him into the + dustcart? I would throw him out myself were I not afraid to pollute my + clothes.” + </p> + <p> + My good tutor flew into a passion, and shouted in a voice worthy to sound + in a church: + </p> + <p> + “You odious money-monger, infamous partisan, barbarous evildoer, you + pretend this house to be yours? So that everyone may know it belongs to + you, inscribe on the door the gospel word <i>Aceldema</i>, which in our + language means Bloodmoney. And then we’ll let the master enter his + dwelling. Thief, robber, murderer, write with the piece of charcoal I + throw in your face, write with your own filthy hand, on the floor, your + title deed. Bloodmoney of the widow and orphans, bloodmoney of the just. + <i>Aceldema</i>. If not, out with you, man of quantities! We’ll remain.” + </p> + <p> + M. de la Gueritude had never in his life heard anything of this sort, and + thought he had to deal with a madman, as one might easily suppose, and, + more for defence than attack, he raised his big stick. My good tutor, out + of his senses, threw a bottle at the head of the contractor, who fell + headlong on the floor, howling, “He has killed me!” And as he was swimming + in red wine he really looked as though murdered. Both the flunkeys wanted + to throw themselves on the murderer, and one of them, a burly fellow, + tried to grasp him, when M. Coignard gave the fellow such a butt that he + rolled in the stream beside the financier. + </p> + <p> + Unluckily he rose quickly, and, arming himself with a still burning torch, + jumped into the passage, where bad luck awaited him. My good master was no + longer there; he had taken to his heels. But M. d’Anquetil was still there + with Catherine, and he it was who received the burning torch on his + forehead, an outrage he could not stand. He drew his sword, and drove it + to the hilt in the unlucky knave’s stomach, teaching him, at his own + expense, how fatal it may be to attack a gentleman. Now M. Coignard had + not got twenty yards away from the house when the other lackey, a tall + fellow, with the limbs of a daddy-longlegs, ran after him, shouting for + the guard. + </p> + <p> + “Stop him! Stop him!” The footman ran faster than the abbé, and we could + see him, at the corner of the Rue Saint Guillaume, extending his arms to + catch M. Coignard by the collar of his gown. But my dear tutor, who had + more than one trick, veering abruptly, got behind the fellow, tripped him + up, and sent him on to a stone post, where he got his head broken. It was + done before M. d’Anquetil and I, running to the abbé’s assistance, could + reach him. We could not leave M. Coignard in this pressing danger. + </p> + <p> + “Abbe,” said M. d’Anquetil, “give me your hand. You’re a gallant man.” + </p> + <p> + “I really cannot help thinking,” my good master replied, “that I have been + somewhat murderously inclined; but I am not cruel enough to be proud of + it. I am quite satisfied so long as I am not reproached too vehemently. + Such violence does not lie in my habits, and as you can see, sir, I am + better fitted to lecture from the chair of a college on belles-lettres + than I am to fight with lackeys at the corner of a street.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” replied M. d’Anquetil, “that’s not the worst of the whole business. + I fully believe you have knocked the Farmer-general on the head.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it true?” questioned the abbé. + </p> + <p> + “As true as that I have perforated with my sword yonder scoundrel’s + tripes.” + </p> + <p> + “Under such circumstances we ought to ask pardon of God, to whom alone we + are responsible for the blood shed by us, and secondly to hasten to the + nearest fountain, there to wash ourselves, because I perceive that my nose + is bleeding.” + </p> + <p> + “Right you are, abbé,” said M. d’Anquetil; “for the blackguard now dying + in the gutter has cut my forehead. What an impertinence!” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive him,” said the abbé, “as you wish to be forgiven yourself.” + </p> + <p> + At the place where the Rue de Bac loses itself in the fields, we + fortunately found along the wall of a hospital a little bronze Triton, + shooting a spirt of water into a stone tub. We stopped to wash and drink, + for our throats were dry. + </p> + <p> + “What have we done,” said my master, “and how could I have lost my temper, + usually so peaceable? True men must not be judged by their deeds, which + depend on circumstances, but rather, on the example of God our Father, by + their secret thoughts and their deepest intentions.” + </p> + <p> + “And Catherine,” I asked, “what has become of her through this horrible + adventure?” + </p> + <p> + “I left her,” was M. d’Anquetil’s answer, “breathing into the mouth of her + financier, to revive him. But she had better save her breath. I know La + Gueritude. He is pitiless. He’ll send her to the spittel, perhaps to + America. I am sorry for her. She was a fine girl. I did not love her, but + she was mad after me. And, an extraordinary state of things, I am now + without a mistress.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t bother,” said my good tutor. “You’ll soon find another, not + different, or hardly differing in essentials, from her. What you look for + in a woman, as it appears to me, is common to all females.” + </p> + <p> + “It is clear,” said M. d’Anquetil, “that we are in danger: I of being sent + to the Bastille, you, abbé, together with your pupil, Tournebroche, who + certainly has not killed anybody, of being hanged.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s but too true,” said my good master. “We have to look out for + safety. Perhaps it will be necessary to leave Paris, where, no doubt, we + shall be wanted; and even to fly to Holland. Alas! I foresee that there I + shall write lampoons for ballet girls with that same hand which has been + employed to annotate right amply the alchemistic treatises of Zosimus the + Panopolitan.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me, abbé,” said M. d’Anquetil, “I have a friend who will hide + us at his country seat for any length of time. He lives within four miles + of Lyons, in a country horrid and wild, where nothing is to be seen but + poplars, grass and woods. There we must go. There we’ll wait till the + storm is over. We’ll pass the time hunting and shooting. But we must at + once find a post-chaise or, better still, a travelling coach.” + </p> + <p> + “I know where to get that,” said the abbé. “At the <i>Red Horse</i> hotel, + at the Circus of the Bergères, you can have good horses, as well as all + sorts of vehicles. I made the acquaintance of the landlord at the time I + was secretary to Madame de Saint Ernest. He liked to oblige people of + quality. I am not quite sure if he is still alive, but he ought to have a + son like himself. Have you money?” + </p> + <p> + “I have with me a rather large sum,” replied M. d’Anquetil, “and I am glad + of it, as I cannot dream of going home, where the constables will not fail + to be on the lookout to arrest and conduct me to the Chatelet. I forgot my + servants, whom I left in Catherine’s house, and I do not know what has + become of them. I thrashed them, and never paid their wages, and withal I + am not sure of their fidelity. In whom can you have confidence? Let’s be + off at once for the Circus of the Bergères.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said the abbé, “I’ll make you a proposal, hoping it may be + agreeable to you. We are living, Tournebroche and I, in an alchemistic and + ramshackle castle at the Cross of the Sablons, where we can easily stay + for a dozen hours without being seen by anyone. There we will take you and + wait quietly till our carriage is ready. The advantage is that the Sablons + is very near the Circus of the Bergères.” + </p> + <p> + M. d’Anquetil had nothing against the abbé’s proposal, and so we resolved + in front of the Triton, who blew the water out of his fat cheeks, to go + first to the Cross of the Sablons, and to hire, later on, at the <i>Red + Horse</i> hotel, a travelling coach for our journey to Lyons. + </p> + <p> + “I want to inform you, gentlemen,” said my dear tutor, “that of the three + bottles I took care to carry with me, one was broken on the head of M. de + la Guéritude, another one was smashed in my pocket during my flight. They + are both regretted. The third, against all hope, has been preserved. Here + it is!” + </p> + <p> + Pulling it out of his pocket, he placed it on the edge of the fountain. + </p> + <p> + “That’s well,” sail M, d’Anquetil. “You have some wine, I have dice and + cards in my pocket. We can play.” + </p> + <p> + “It is true,” said my good master, “that is a pleasant pastime. A pack of + cards is a book of adventure, of the kind called romances. It is so far + superior to other books of a similar kind that it can be made and read at + the same time, and that it is not necessary to have brains to make it, nor + knowledge of reading to read it. It is a marvellous work, also, in that it + offers a regular and new sense every time its pages are shuffled. It is a + contrivance never to be too much admired, because out of mathematical + principles it extracts thousands on thousands of curious combinations, and + so many singular affinities that it is believed, contrary to all truth, + that in it are discoverable the secrets of hearts, the mystery of + destinies and the arcanum of the future. What I have said is particularly + applicable to the tarot of the Bohemians, which is the finest of all + games, piquet not excepted. The invention of cards must be ascribed to the + ancients, and as far as I am concerned—I have, to speak candidly, no + kind of documentary evidence for my assertion—I believe them to be + of Chaldean origin. But in their present appearance the piquet cards + cannot be traced further back than to King Charles VII., if what is said + in a learned essay, that I remember to have read at Séez, is true, that + the queen of hearts is an emblematical likeness of the beautiful Agnes + Sorel, and that the queen of spades is, under the name of Pallas, no other + than that Jeanne Dulys, better known as Joan of Arc, who by her bravery + re-established the business of the French monarchy and was afterwards + boiled to death by the English, in a cauldron, shown for two farthings at + Rouen, where I have seen it in passing through that city. Certain + historians pretend that she was burnt alive at the stake. It is to be read + in the works of Nicole Gilles and in Pasquier that St Catherine and St + Margaret appeared to her. Certainly it was not God who sent these saints + to her, because there is no person of any learning and solid piety who + does not know that Margaret and Catherine were invented by Byzantine + monks, whose abundant and barbarous imaginations have altogether muddled + up the martyrology. It is a ridiculous impiety to pretend that God made + two saints who never existed appear to Jeanne Dulys. However, the ancient + chroniclers were not afraid to publish it. Why have they not said that God + sent to the Maid of Orleans the fair Yseult, Mélusine, Berthe the + Bigfooted, and all the other heroines of the romances of chivalry the + existence of whom is not more fabulous that that of the two virgins, + Catherine and Margaret? M. de Valois, in the last century, rose with full + reason against these clumsy fables, as much opposed to religion as error + is to truth. It is desirable that an ecclesiastic learned in history + undertook to show the distinction between real saints and saints such as + Margaret, Luce or Lucie, Eustache, and perhaps Saint George, about whom I + have my doubts. + </p> + <p> + “If on a future day I should be able to retire to some beautiful abbey, + possessing a rich library, I will devote to this task the remainder of a + life, half worn out in frightful tempests and frequent shipwrecks. I am + longing for a harbour of refuge, and I have the desire and the taste for a + chaste repose suitable to my age and profession.” + </p> + <p> + While M. Coignard was holding this memorable discourse, M. d’Anquetil, + without listening to the abbé’s words, was seated on the edge of the + fountain, shuffling the cards and swearing like a trooper, because it was + too dark to play a game of piquet. + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” said my good master; “it is a bad light, and I am + somewhat displeased over it, less because I cannot play cards than because + I have a desire to read a few pages of the ‘Consolations’ of Boethius, of + which I always carry a small edition, so as to have it handy when + something unfortunate overcomes me, as has been the case this day. It is a + cruel disgrace, sir, for a man of my calling to be a homicide, and liable + at any moment to be locked up in one of the ecclesiastical prisons. I feel + that a single page of that admirable book would strengthen my heart, + crushed by the very idea of the officer.” + </p> + <p> + Having spoken, he let himself gently slide over the edge of the basin, so + deep that the best part of his body went into the water. But not taking + the slightest notice, and hardly feeling it, he took the Boethius out of + his pocket—it was really there—and putting his spectacles on, + wherein one glass only remained, and that one cracked in three places, he + looked in the little book for the page most appropriate for his present + situation. He doubtless would have found it, and extracted from it new + strength, if the rotten state of his barnacles, the tears that came into + his eyes, and the feeble light which came from the sky, had permitted him + to search for it. Very soon he had to confess that he was unable to see a + wink, and became angry with the moon, who showed her pointed sickle on the + edge of a cloud. He reproached her and heaped bitter invectives on her. He + shouted: + </p> + <p> + “Luminary obscene, mischievous and libidinous, you never tire of + illuminating men’s wickedness, and you deny a ray of your light to him who + searches for virtuous maxims!” + </p> + <p> + “The more so, abbé, as this bitch of a moon gives just light enough to + find our way along the streets, and not sufficient to play a game of + piquet. Let’s go at once to the castle you spoke of, where I have to slip + in without being seen.” + </p> + <p> + That was good advice, and after we had drunk the wine to the last drop we + took the road, all three of us, to the Cross of the Sablons. I walked with + M. d’Anquetil. My good tutor, hindered by the water his breeches had + soaked in, followed us, crying, moaning and disgusted. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII + </h2> + <p> + Our Return—We smuggle M. d’Anquetil in—M. d’Asterac on + Jealousy—M. Jérome Coignard in Trouble—What happened while I + was in the Laboratory—Jahel persuaded to elope. + </p> + <p> + The morning light already pricked our jaded eyes when we reached the green + door to the park. We had not to use the knocker, as some time ago the + porter had given us the keys of his domain. It was agreed that my good + tutor, with d’Anquetil, should cautiously advance in the shadow of the + lane, and that I should remain behind on the lookout for the faithful + Criton, and the kitchen boys who might perhaps see us coming along. This + arrangement, which was nothing but reasonable, was to turn out rather + badly for me. My two companions had gone up without being discovered, and + reached my room, where we had decided to hide M. d’Anquetil until the + moment of escape in the post-chaise, but as I was climbing the second + flight of steps I met M. d’Asterac, in a red damask gown, carrying a + silver candlestick. He put, as he habitually did, his hand on my shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Hello! my son,” he said, “are you not very happy, having broken off all + intercourse with women, and by that escaped all dangers of bad company? + With the august maidens of the air you need not be in fear of quarrels, + scuffles, injurious and violent rows which usually occur with creatures + following a loose life. In your solitude, which delights the fairies, you + enjoy a delicious peace.” + </p> + <p> + I thought at first that he mocked me. But I soon found out that nothing + was further from his thoughts. + </p> + <p> + “I am pleased to have met you, my son,” he continued, “and will thank you + to come with me to my studio for a moment.” + </p> + <p> + I followed him. He unlocked, with a key nearly an ell long, that + confounded room where I had seen the glare of infernal fires. When we were + inside the laboratory he asked me to kindly make up the smouldering fire. + I threw some short logs into the furnace, where I don’t know what was + steaming, exhaling a suffocating odour. While he was occupied with his + black cookery, cupellating and matrassing, I remained seated on a settle, + and, against my will, closed my eyes. He made me reopen them to admire a + green earthenware vessel, with a glass top, which he had in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “You ought to know, my son,” he said, “that this subliming pot is called + aludel. It contains a liquid to be looked at with the greatest attention, + as it is nothing less than the mercury of the philosophers. Do not suppose + that it is to keep its present dark colour for ever. Soon it will change + to white and in that state will change all metals into silver. Hereafter, + by my art and industry, it will turn red, and acquire the virtue of + transmuting silver into gold. It certainly would be of advantage to you + that, shut in this laboratory, you should not leave it before these + sublime operations have fully taken place, a process which cannot require + more than two or three months. But as to ask you to do so would perhaps be + imposing too hard a restriction on your youth, be satisfied, for this + time, to observe the preludes of the work, while putting, if you please, + as much wood on the fire as possible.” + </p> + <p> + Having said that he returned to his phials and retorts, and I could not + help thinking of the sad position wherein ill-luck and imprudence had + placed me. + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” I said to myself, and threw logs into the fire, “at this very + moment the constables are searching for my good tutor and myself; perhaps + we shall have to go to prison, certainly we have to leave this castle. I + have in default of money, at least board and an honourable position. I + shall never again dare to stand before M. d’Asterac, who believes me to + have passed the night in the silent voluptuousness of magic, which perhaps + would have been better for me. Alas! I’ll never more see Mosaide’s niece, + Mademoiselle Jahel, who at night-time woke me in my room in such a + charming way. No doubt she will forget me. Perhaps she’ll love someone + else, and bestow on him the same caresses as she gave to me.” The idea of + such an infidelity became unbearable. But as the world goes, one has to be + ready for anything. + </p> + <p> + “My son,” M. d’Asterac began to say again, “you do not sufficiently feed + the athanor. I see that you are still not fully convinced of the + excellency of fire, which is capable of ripening this mercury and + transforming it into the wonderful fruit I expect to gather very soon. + More wood! The fire, my son, is the superior element; I have told you + enough, and now I’ll show you an example. On a very cold day last winter, + visiting Mosaide in his lodge, I found him sitting, his feet on a warming + pan. I observed that the subtle particles of fire escaping from the pan + had power enough to inflate and lift up the folds of his gown, wherefrom I + inferred, that had the fire been hotter, it would have raised Mosaide + himself into the air, of which he is certainly worthy, and that, if it + should be possible to close into some kind of a vessel a very large + quantity of such fire particles, it would be possible to sail on the + clouds as easily as we sail on the sea, and to visit the Salamanders in + their aerial abodes, a problem I shall keep in mind. I do not despair of + constructing such a fireship. But let us go back to our work of putting + wood on the fire.” + </p> + <p> + He kept me for some time in the glow of the laboratory whence I wanted to + escape as quickly as possible, to join Jahel, whom I was anxious to inform + of my misfortune. At last he left me, and I thought myself free, a hope + shortly to be disappointed by his return. + </p> + <p> + “It is rather mild this morning,” he said, “but the sky is somewhat + cloudy. Would it please you to go for a walk in the park with me before + returning to the translation of Zosimus the Panopolitan, which will be a + great honour to you and your tutor if you finish it as you have begun?” + </p> + <p> + With much regret I followed him into the park, where he said to me: + </p> + <p> + “I am not sorry, my son, to be alone with you, to warn you, as it is high + time to do, against a great danger by which you may be threatened one day; + I reproach myself not to have thought of warning you before, as what I + shall communicate to you is of the utmost consequence.” + </p> + <p> + And speaking in this way, he led me through the grand avenue which leads + down to the marshes of the Seine, whence Rueil is to be seen and Mont + Valerien with its calvary. It was his usual walk. The alley was + practicable in spite of some dead trees which had fallen across it. + </p> + <p> + “It is important for you to know to what you expose yourself by betraying + your Salamander. I do not want to interrogate you as to what intercourse + you have had with that superhuman person I have been fortunate enough to + make you acquainted with. I dare say you feel somewhat reluctant to + discuss it. Possibly you deserve praise for that. If the Salamanders have + not, in what concerns the discretion of their lovers, the same ideas that + court ladies and tradeswomen have, it is not less true that it is the + special quality of beautiful amours to be unutterable, and that it would + profane a grand sentiment to spread it abroad. + </p> + <p> + “But your Salamander (of which I could easily find the name if I had any + idle curiosity) has perhaps omitted to give you information about one of + the most violent passions—jealousy; this character is common to + them. Know well, my son, Salamanders are not to be betrayed without + punishment awaiting you. Their vengeance on the perjurer is of the + cruelest. The divine Paracelsus gives one example, which will suffice to + inspire in you a salutary fear. + </p> + <p> + “There was in the German town of Staufen a spagyric philosopher who had, + like yourself, connection with a Salamander. He was depraved enough to + deceive her with a woman, certainly pretty, but not more beautiful than a + woman can be. One evening, having supper with his new mistress in company + with some friends, they saw a thigh of marvellous beauty shining over + their heads. The Salamander exposed it to impress on them all, that she + did not deserve the wrong inflicted by her lover; after that the outraged + celestial struck down the unfaithful lover with apoplexy. The vulgar, who + are made to be deceived, believed his to be a natural death; the initiated + knew by whose hand he was slain. I owed you this advice, my son, and this + example.” + </p> + <p> + They were less useful to me than M. d’Asterac thought. Listening to them I + mused on other subjects of alarm. Without doubt my face must have betrayed + the state of anxiety I was in; because the great cabalist, having looked + at me, asked me if I was not afraid that an engagement, guarded by + conditions so severe, would be troublesome to my youth. + </p> + <p> + “I am able to reassure you,” he added. “The jealousy of a Salamander is + awakened only by rivalry with women, and to speak truly it is more + resentment, indignation, disgust, than real jealousy. The souls of the + Salamanders are too noble, their intelligence too subtle, to envy one + another, and to give way to a sentiment pertaining to the barbarity + wherein humanity is still half plunged. On the contrary they delight to + share with their playmates the joys they taste beside a sage, and are + pleased to bring to their lovers the most beautiful of their sisters. Very + soon you’ll experience that, as a fact, they push politeness to the point + I mentioned, and not a year, nay not six months, will pass before your + room will be the trysting place of five or six daughters of the light, who + will untie before you their sparkling girdles. Do not be afraid, my son, + to answer their caresses. Your own fairy love will not take umbrage. How + could she be offended, wise as she is? And on your side, do not get + irritated if your Salamander leaves you for a moment to visit another + philosopher. Consider that the proud jealousy men bring into the union of + the sexes is but a savage sentiment, founded on the most ridiculous of + illusions. It rests on the idea that a woman belongs to you because she + has given herself to you, which is nothing but a play on words.” + </p> + <p> + While making this speech, M. d’Asterac had turned into the lane of the + mandrakes, where we could see Mosaide’s cottage, half hidden by foliage, + when suddenly an appalling voice burst upon us and made my heart beat + faster—hoarse sounds, accompanied by a sharp gnashing, and on + getting nearer the sounds seemed to be modulated, and each phrase ended in + a sort of very feeble melody, which could not be listened to without + shuddering. + </p> + <p> + Advancing a few paces we could, by listening closely, understand the sense + of the strange words. The voice said: + </p> + <p> + “Hear the malediction with which Elisha cursed the insolent and mirthful + children. Listen to the anathema Barak flung on Meros. + </p> + <p> + “I curse thee in the name of Archithuriel, who is also called the lord of + battles, and holds the flaming sword. I doom thee to perdition in the name + of Sardaliphonos, who presents to his master the flowers and garlands of + merit offered by the children of Israel. + </p> + <p> + “Be cursed, hound! Anathema, swine!” + </p> + <p> + Looking from whence the voice came, we could see Mosaide on the threshold + of his house, standing erect, his arms raised, his hands in the form of + fangs, with nails crooked, appearing inflamed by the fiery light of the + sun. His head was covered with his dirty tiara, and he was enveloped in + his gorgeous gown, showing when flying open his meagre bow-legs in ragged + breeches. He looked like some begging magician, immortal, and very old. + His eyes glared, and he said: + </p> + <p> + “Be cursed in the name of all globes, be cursed in the name of all wheels, + be cursed in the name of the mysterious beasts Ezekiel saw.” + </p> + <p> + Out he stretched his long arms, ending in claws, and continued: + </p> + <p> + “In the name of the globes, in the name of the wheels, in the name of the + mysterious beasts, descend among those who are no more.” + </p> + <p> + We advanced a few paces between the half-grown trees to see the object + over which Mosaide extended his arms and his anger, and discovered, to our + great surprise, M. Jérome Coignard, hanging by a lapel of his gown on an + evergreen thorn bush. The night’s disorder was visible all over his body; + his collar and his shoes torn, his stockings smeared with mud, his shirt + open, all reminded me of our common misadventures, and, worse than all, + the swelling of his nose spoilt entirely the noble and smiling expression + which never left his features. + </p> + <p> + I ran up to him and unhooked him so luckily off the thorns that only a + small piece of his breeches stuck to them. Mosaide, having had his say, + re-entered the cottage. As he wore only slippers I could observe that his + legs fitted right into the middle of his feet, so that the heel stuck out + behind pretty nearly as much as the forefoot in front, a singular + deformation, rendering his walking uncouth, which otherwise would have + been noble and full of dignity. + </p> + <p> + “Jacques Tournebroche! my dear boy,” said my tutor, with a sigh, “that Jew + must be Isaac Laquedem in person, so to blaspheme in all languages. He + vowed me to a death near and violent with an enormous abundance of + metaphors, and he called me a pig in fourteen distinct languages, if I + counted them correctly. I could believe him to be the Antichrist, and he + does not want some of the signs by which that enemy of God is to be + recognised. Under any circumstances he is a dirty Jew, and never has the + wheel as a brand of infamy been exposed on the vestments of a worse or + more rabid miscreant. As for himself, he not only deserves the wheel + formerly attached to the garments of Jews, but also that other wheel on + which scoundrels have their bones broken.” + </p> + <p> + And my good master, mightily angry in his turn, shook his fist in the + direction where Mosaide had disappeared, and accused him of crucifying + children and devouring the flesh of new-born babes. + </p> + <p> + M. d’Asterac went up to him and touched his breast with the ruby he used + to wear on his finger. + </p> + <p> + “It is useful,” said the great cabalist, “to know the peculiar qualities + of precious stones. Rubies soothe resentments, and you’ll soon see the + Abbé Coignard regain his natural suavity.” + </p> + <p> + My dear tutor smiled already, less by virtue of the stone than by the + influence of a philosophy which raised this admirable man above all human + passions, for I feel it my duty to say, at the very moment my narrative + becomes clouded and sad, that M. Jérome Coignard has given me examples of + wisdom under circumstances in which it is but rarely met with. + </p> + <p> + We inquired the cause of the quarrel, but easily understood by the + vagueness of his embarrassed replies that he did not intend to satisfy our + curiosity. I surmised at once that Jahel was mixed up with it in some way, + when I heard with the gnashing of Mosaide’s voice the grating of locks and + bolts, and later on the noise, in the lodge, of a violent dispute between + uncle and niece. When we tried again to bring my tutor to some + explanation, he said: + </p> + <p> + “Hate for Christians is deeply rooted in every Jew’s heart, and yonder + Mosaide is an execrable example of it. I fancy I discovered in his + horrible yelpings some parts of the imprecations the Amsterdam synagogue + vomited in the last century on a little Dutch Jew called Baruch or + Benedict, but better known under the name of Spinoza, for having framed a + philosophy which has been perfectly refuted, as soon as it was brought to + public knowledge, by excellent theologians. But this old Mordecai has + added to it, so it seems to me, many and much more horrible imprecations, + and I confess to having somewhat resented them. For a moment I thought of + escaping by flight this torrent of abuse, when to my dismay I found myself + entangled in yonder thorn, and sticking to it by different parts of my + clothes and skin so fast that I really expected to have to leave the one + or the other behind me. I should still be there, in smarting agony, if + Tournebroche, my dear pupil, had not freed me.” + </p> + <p> + “The thorns count for nothing,” said M. d’Asterac, “but I’m afraid, + Monsieur l’Abbé, that you have trodden on a mandrake.” + </p> + <p> + “Mandrakes,” replied the abbé, “are certainly the least of my cares.” + </p> + <p> + “You’re wrong,” said M. d’Asterac. “It suffices to tread on a mandrake to + become involved in a love crime, and perish by it miserably.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! sir,” my dear tutor replied, “here are all sorts of dangers, and I + become aware that it was necessary to be closely shut in between the + eloquent walls of the ‘Asteracian,’ which is the queen of libraries. For + having left it for a moment only, I get the beasts of Ezekiel thrown at my + head, not to speak of anything else.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you kindly give me news of Zosimus the Panopolitan?” inquired M. + d’Asterac. + </p> + <p> + “He goes on,” replied my master; “goes on nicely, though slowly at the + moment.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not forget, abbé,” said the cabalist, “that possession of the greatest + secrets is attached to the knowledge of those ancient texts.” + </p> + <p> + “I think of it, sir, with solicitude,” said the abbé. + </p> + <p> + M. d’Asterac, after this assurance, left us standing at the statue of the + faun, who continued to play the flute without taking any notice of his + head, fallen into the grass. He disappeared rapidly between the trees, + looking for Salamanders. + </p> + <p> + My tutor linked his arm in mine with the air of one who can at last speak + freely. + </p> + <p> + “Jacques Tournebroche, my son, I must not conceal from you that this very + morning, in the attics of the castle, a rather peculiar chance meeting has + taken place, while you were kept in the room of yonder mad fire-blower. I + plainly heard him ask you to assist him for a moment in his cooking, which + is a great deal less savoury and Christian than that of Master Leonard + your father. Alas! when shall I be lucky enough to see again the cookshop + of the <i>Queen Pédauque</i> and the bookshop of M. Blaizot, with the sign + of <i>Saint Catherine</i>, where I enjoyed myself so heartily thumbing the + books newly arrived from The Hague and Amsterdam!” + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” I exclaimed, the tears coming into my eyes, “when shall I return + to it again? When shall I return to the Rue St Jacques again, where I was + born, and see my dear parents, who’ll feel burning shame when they hear of + our misfortunes? But do be so good, my dear tutor, as to explain that + strange encounter you said you had this very morning, and also the events + of the day.” + </p> + <p> + M. Jérome Coignard willingly consented to give me all the enlightenment I + wished for. He did it in the following words: + </p> + <p> + “Know then, my dear boy, that I reached the upper storey of the castle + without hindrance in company with M. d’Anquetil, whom I like well enough, + although rude and uncultured. His mind is possessed neither of fine + knowledge nor deep curiosity. But youth’s vivacity sparkleth pleasantly + with him, and the ardour of his blood results in amusing sallies. He knows + the world as well as he knows women, because he is above them, and without + any kind of philosophy. It’s a great frankness on his part to call himself + an atheist. His ungodliness is without malice, and will disappear with the + exuberance of his sensuality. In his soul God has no other enemies than + horses, cards and women. In the mind of a real libertine, like M. Bayle + for example, truth has to meet more formidable and malicious adversaries. + But, my dear boy, I give you a character sketch instead of the plain + narrative you wish to have of me. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll satisfy you. Let’s see. Having arrived at the top storey of the + castle in company with M. d’Anquetil, I made the young gentleman enter + your room, and wished him, in accordance with the promise we made him at + the Triton fountain, to use the room as his own. He did so willingly, + undressed, and, keeping nothing on but his boots, went into your bed, the + curtains of which he closed so as not to be incommoded by the bright + morning light, and was not long before he was sound asleep. + </p> + <p> + “As to myself, my dear boy, having reached my room, tired as I was, I did + not want to go to rest before I had looked up in my Boethius one or two + sentences appropriate to my state of mind. I could not find the very one + fit for it. It must not be forgotten that this great thinker had not had + occasion to meditate on the disgrace of having broken the head of a + Farmer-general with a bottle out of his own cellar. But I was able to pick + up here and there, in his admirable treatise, some maxims applicable to + present conjunctures. Having done so, I drew the night-cap over my eyes, + recommended my soul to God, and quietly went to sleep. After what seemed + to me, without being able to measure it, a very short space of time—be + mindful, my son, that our actions are the only measure for time, which, if + I may say so, is suspended for us by sleep—I felt my arm pulled, and + heard a voice shouting in my ear: ‘Eh! Abbé! Eh! Abbé, wake up!’ Half + dozing as I was, I believed it was a constable wanting to conduct me to + the officer, and I deliberated with myself the easiest way in which I + could break his head, and rapidly came to the conclusion that the + candlestick would be the handiest weapon. It is unhappily, too true, my + dear boy, that having once stepped aside from the road of kindness and + equity, where the wise man walks with a firm and prudent step, one becomes + compelled to sustain violence by violence and cruelty by cruelty, thereby + proving that a first fault leads invariably to other faults—evil + always follows evil done. One has to be reminded of this if one wants to + fully understand the lives of the Roman emperors, of whom M. Crevier has + given such an exact account. Those princes were not born more evilly + disposed than other men. Caius, surnamed Caligula, was wanting neither in + natural spirit nor in judgment, and was quite capable of friendship. Nero + had an inborn liking for virtue, and his temperament disposed him towards + all that is grand and sublime. Both of them were led by a first fault on + the nefarious, villainous road whereon they walked to their miserable end. + Their history is cleverly treated in M. Crevier’s book. I knew that + remarkable writer when he was a teacher of literature and history at the + College of Beauvais, as I might be teaching to-day, had my life not been + crossed by a thousand impediments, and if the natural easiness of my + spirit had not drawn me into the manifold snares laid in my way. M. + Crevier, my boy, led a pure life; his morals were severe, and I have + myself heard him say that a woman who had broken her conjugal vows was + capable of the crimes of murder and incendiarism. I repeat this saying of + his, to impress you with the saintly austerity of that model priest. + </p> + <p> + “But, once more, I digress, and I must hasten to return to my narrative. + Well, as I have said, I thought a constable had come to arrest me, and I + could see myself in one of the archbishop’s dungeons, when I opened my + eyes and recognised the features and voice of M. d’Anquetil. ‘Abbé,’ said + that young gentleman to me, ‘I have just had a singular adventure in + Tournebroche’s room. During my sleep a woman entered my room, glided into + my bed, and awoke me with a shower of caresses, tender epithets, sweet + murmurings, and passionate kisses. I pushed the curtains back to see the + features of my good luck. She was dark and had ardent eyes, one of the + finest women I have ever held in my arms. But all at once she screamed and + jumped out, violently angry, but not quick enough to prevent me catching + her in the passage and pressing her closely in my arms. She began by + striking me and scratching my face. After having lacerated it sufficiently + to satisfy her outraged womanly honour, we began to explain ourselves. She + was well pleased to learn that I am a gentleman, and none of the poorest, + and sooner than I might have expected I ceased to be odious to her, and + she began to be tender with me, when a scullion appeared in the passage; + his appearance put her to flight at once. + </p> + <p> + “‘I am quite aware,’ said M. d’Anquetil, ‘that that admirable girl had + come for another than myself; she must have entered the wrong room, and + the surprise frightened her. I did my best to reassure her, and should + doubtless have won her amity had not that sot of a scullion come between + us.’ + </p> + <p> + “I confirmed him in that supposition. We put our heads together to get an + idea of the man for whom that beautiful woman had ventured on such an + early morning visit, and were easily agreed that it could be no other but + that old fool d’Asterac—you know, Tournebroche, I suspected him + before—who awaits her intimacy in an adjoining room, if not, and + without your knowledge, in your own. Are you not of the same opinion?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing is more credible,” I replied. + </p> + <p> + “No doubt it is so. That sorcerer amuses himself when he talks to us of + his Salamanders. The truth is, he caresses that amazingly pretty girl. + He’s an impostor.” + </p> + <p> + I asked my tutor to favour me with the continuance of his narrative. He + willingly complied and said: + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear boy, I’ll briefly report the remainder of M. d’Anquetil’s + discourse. I know very well that it’s rather commonplace, almost vulgar, + to lay much stress on trifling circumstances. It is, on the contrary, some + sort of duty to express them in the fewest possible words, to condense + them carefully and reserve the tempting abundance of word-flow to moral + instruction and exhortation, which may be hurled as the avalanches are + hurled from the mountains. On this principle I shall have mentioned enough + of M. d’Anquetil’s sayings when I have told you that he impressed on me + that yonder young girl’s beauty, charms, and accomplishments are quite + extraordinary. In the end he inquired of me if I knew her name and + position. And I replied to him that, from his description of her, I was + pretty sure that she was Rabbi Mosaide’s niece Jahel, whom by a lucky + accident I had embraced one night on that very same staircase, with this + difference only, that my luck occurred between the first and second + flights of steps. ‘I hope and trust,’ said M. d’Anquetil, ‘that there may + be other differences too, for, as far as I am concerned, I embraced her + very closely. I am also sorry that, as you say, she is a Jewess, as, + without believing in God, I feel that I should have liked better for her + to be a Christian. But can anyone be sure of his own family? Who knows if + she has not been kidnapped as a child? Jews and gypsies steal children + daily. And we do not, as a rule, remember sufficiently that the Holy + Virgin was born a Jewess. But let her be Jewess or not, she pleases me; I + want her and shall have her!’ Such were that reckless youngster’s words. + But allow me, my boy, to sit down on yonder moss-covered stone; last + night’s work, my fights, my flight, too, have nearly broken my legs.” + </p> + <p> + He sat down, took his snuff-box out of his pocket, and looked quite + disconsolate when he found it void of tobacco. + </p> + <p> + I took a seat at his side, agitated, crestfallen. Coignard’s discourse + caused me acute pain. I cursed Fate for having given my place to a brute + at the very moment when my beloved mistress had come to bring me her most + passionate tenderness, expecting to find me in my bed, the while I had to + throw logs of wood on the fire in the alchemist’s furnace. The but too + probable inconstancy of Jahel tore my heart to pieces, and I could have + wished that my dear tutor had been more discreet with my rival. So I took + the liberty to reproach him mildly for his disclosure of Jahel’s name. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” I said, “was it not somewhat imprudent to furnish such indications + to a gentleman so luxurious and violent as M. d’Anquetil?” + </p> + <p> + M. Coignard seemed not to hear what I said, and continued his speech: + </p> + <p> + “My snuff-box has unfortunately opened itself in my pocket during the + fight at Catherine’s house, and the tobacco it contained, mixed with the + wine of the broken bottle, has formed a quite disgusting paste. I do not + dare ask Criton to grind down a few leaves for me; the hard and cold + features of that servant and judge inspire me with awe. I suffer from the + want of snuff, as my nose is irksome in consequence of the shock I had + last night, and I am quite disconcerted by my failure to satisfy the + never-tiring wants of that nose of mine. I shall have to bear the + misfortune quietly, till M. d’Anquetil may, perhaps, let me have a few + grains out of his box. Now to return to that young gentleman, he said + expressly to me: ‘I love that girl. Know, abbé, that I am resolved to take + her with us in the post-chaise should I be compelled to stay here a week, + a month, six months or longer; I will not go away without her.’ I + represented all the dangers to him, which might occur through any delay in + our departure. He said he did not care a rap for those dangers, less so as + they were smaller for him than for us. ‘You, abbé, you and Tournebroche + are both in danger of being hanged; my risk is the Bastille only, where I + can get cards and girls, and whence my family could, and would, soon + deliver me, as my father would interest some duchess or some ballet dancer + in my doom, and my mother, devotee as she has become, could and would + still get the assistance of one or other of the royal princes. It is + irrevocably fixed; I take Jahel with me or I remain here. You and + Tournebroche are at liberty to hire a post-chaise of your own.’ + </p> + <p> + “The cruel boy knows but too well that we have not the means to do it. I + tried to make him change his mind. I became pressing, unctuous, parental. + It was no use, and I wasted on him an eloquence which, employed in the + pulpit of a parish church, would have brought me a full reward in honour + and coin. Alas! my dear boy, it seems to be written that none of my + actions will ever produce any kind of savoury fruit, and for me ought to + have been written the following words from Ecclesiastes:—<i>‘Quid + habet am plius homo de universe labore suo, quo laborat sub sole?</i>’ Far + from bringing him to reason, my discourses strengthened the young + nobleman’s obstinacy, and I cannot deny that he actually counted on me for + the success of his desires, and pressed me to go to Jahel and induce her + to fly with him, promising her the gift of a trousseau of Dutch linen, of + plate, jewels and a handsome annuity.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir!” I exclaimed, “this M. d’Anquetil is very insolent. What do you + think will be Jahel’s reply to his propositions when she knows of them?” + </p> + <p> + “My boy, she knows by now, and I think she will accept them.” + </p> + <p> + “If such is the case,” I said, “then Mosaide must be warned.” + </p> + <p> + “That he is already,” replied my tutor. “You have just assisted at the + outbreak of his rage.” + </p> + <p> + “What, sir?” said I, with much warmth, “you have informed yonder Jew of + the disgrace awaiting his family! That’s nice of you! Allow me to embrace + you. But, if so, Mosaide’s wrath threatened M. d’Anquetil, and not + yourself?” + </p> + <p> + The abbé replied with an air of nobility and honesty, with a natural + indulgence for human weaknesses, an obliging sweetness, and the imprudent + kindness of an easy heart—by all of which men are often induced to + do inconsiderate things and expose themselves to the severity of the + futile judgments of mankind: + </p> + <p> + “I will not keep it a secret from you, my dear Tournebroche, that, giving + way to the pressing solicitations of that young gentleman, I obligingly + promised to go on his errand to Jahel and to neglect nothing to induce her + to elope with him.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” I exclaimed, “you did, sir. I cannot fully tell how deeply your + action wounds and affects me.” + </p> + <p> + “Tournebroche,” replied he sternly, “you speak like a Pharisee. One of the + fathers, as amiable as he was austere, has said: ‘Turn your eyes on + yourself and take care not to judge the doings of others. Judging others + is an idle labour; usually one is erring, often sinning, by so doing, but + by examining and judging oneself your labour will always be + fruit-bearing.’ It is written, ‘Thou shalt not be afraid of the judgment + of men,’ and the Apostle Paul said that he did not trouble himself about + being judged by men. If I refer to some of the finest texts in morals it + is to enlighten you, Tournebroche, to make you return to the humble and + sweet modesty which suits you, and not to defend my innocence, when the + multitude of my iniquities weighs on me and bears me down. It is difficult + not to glide into sin, and proper not to fall into despondency at every + step one takes on this earth, whereon everything participates, at one and + the same time, in the original curse, and the redemption effected by the + blood of the Son of God. I do not want to colour my faults, and I freely + confess that the embassy I undertook at the request of M. d’Anquetil is an + outcome of Eve’s downfall, and it was, to say it bluntly, one of the + numberless consequences, on the wrong side, of the humble and painful + sentiment which I now feel, and is drawn out of the desire and hope of my + eternal welfare. You have to represent to yourself mankind balancing + between damnation and redemption to understand me truly when I say that at + the present hour I am sitting on the good end of the seesaw after having + been this very morning on the wrong end. I freely avow that in passing + through the mandrake lane, from whence Mosaide’s cottage is to be seen, I + hid behind an ivy-thorn bush, waiting for Jahel to appear at her window. + Very soon she came. I showed myself, and beckoned her to come down. She + came as soon as she was able to escape her uncle’s vigilance. I gave her a + brief report of the events of the night, of which she had not known. I + informed her of M. d’Anquetil’s impetuous plans, and represented to her + how important it was for her own interest, and for my and your safety, to + make our escape sure by coming with us. I made the young nobleman’s + promises glitter before her eyes and said to her: ‘If you consent to go + with him to-night you’ll have a solid annuity, inscribed at the Hotel de + Ville, and an outfit richer than any ballet dancer or Abbess of Panthémont + may get, and a cupboard full of the finest silver.’ ‘He thinks me to be + one of those creatures,” she said; ‘he is an impudent fellow.’ ‘He loves + you,’ I replied; ‘you could not expect to be venerated?’ ‘I must have an + olio pot,’ she said, ‘an olio pot, and the heaviest one. Did he mention + the olio pot? Go, Monsieur Abbé, and tell him.’ ‘What shall I tell him?’ + ‘That I am an honest girl.’ ‘And what else?’ ‘That he is very audacious!’ + ‘Is that all, Jahel? Think on our safety!’ ‘Tell him that I shall not + depart before he has given me his legally worded written promise for + everything.’ ‘He’ll do it, consider it as done. ‘Oh, monsieur, I will not + consent to anything if he does not consent to have lessons given me by M. + Couperin; I want to study music. + </p> + <p> + “We had just reached this item of our negotiations when, unhappily, + Mosaide surprised us, and without having overheard our conversation got + the scent of its meaning. + </p> + <p> + “He called me at once a suborner, and heaped outrageous insults on me. + Jahel went and hid herself in her own room, and I remained alone exposed + to the fury of that God-killer, in the state you found me, and out of + which you helped me, you dear boy! As a fact, I may say that the business + had been concluded, the elopement assented to, our flight assured. The + wheels and Ezekiel’s beasts are of no value against a heavy silver olio + pot. I am only afraid that yonder old Mordecai has imprisoned his niece + too securely.” + </p> + <p> + “I must avow,” I replied, without disguising my satisfaction, “that I + heard a loud noise of keys and bolts at the very moment I freed you from + the midst of the thorns. But is it really true, that Jahel agreed so + quickly to your propositions, which have not been quite decorous, and + which, for certain, you did not make with an easy heart? I am abashed; + and, say, my good master, did she not speak of me, not mention my name, + with a sigh or otherwise?” + </p> + <p> + “No, my boy, she did not pronounce your name, at least not in an audible + way. Neither did I hear her mention the name of M. d’Asterac her lover, + which ought to have been nearer to her feelings than yours. But do not be + surprised by her forgetting the alchemist. It is not sufficient to possess + a woman to impress on her soul a profound and durable mark. Souls are + almost impenetrable, a fact showing the cruel emptiness of love. The wise + man ought to say to himself, I am nothing in the nothingness which that + creature is. To hope that you could leave a remembrance in a woman’s heart + is equivalent to trying to impress a seal on running water. And therefore + let us never nurse the wish to establish ourselves in what is fleeting and + let us attach ourselves to that which never dies.” + </p> + <p> + “After all,” I said, “Jahel is locked and bolted up, and one may rely on + the vigilance of her guardian.” + </p> + <p> + “My son, this very evening she has to join us at the <i>Red Horse</i>. + Twilight is favourable to evasions, abductions, stealthy movements and + underhand actions. We have to trust to the cunning of that girl. As to + you, be sure to attend at the Circus of the Bergères in the dusk. You know + M. d’Anquetil is not patient, and it quite the man to start without you.” + </p> + <p> + When he gave me this counsel, the luncheon bell sounded. + </p> + <p> + “Have you by chance,” he said to me, “a needle and thread? My garments are + torn at more than one place, and I should like to repair them as much as + possible before going to luncheon. Especially my breeches do not leave me + without some apprehension. They are so much torn that, should I not + promptly mend them, I run the risk of losing them altogether.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX + </h2> + <p> + Our last Dinner at M. d’Asterac’s Table—Conversation of M. Jerome + Coignard and M. d’Asterac—A Message from Home—Catherine in the + Spittel—We are wanted for Murder—Our Flight—Jahel causes + me much Misery—Account of the Journey—The Abbe Coignard on + Towns—Jahel’s Midnight Visit—We are followed—The + Accident—M. Jerome Coignard is stabbed. + </p> + <p> + I took my accustomed place that day at the dining-table of the cabalist, + oppressed by the idea that I sat down at it for the last time. Jahel’s + treachery had saddened my soul. Alas! thought I, my most fervent wish had + been to fly with her, a wish which looked like being granted, and was now + fulfilled in a very cruel manner. Again and again I admired my beloved + tutor’s wisdom who, on a day when I desired too vivaciously the success of + some affair, answered with the following citation: <i>“Et tributt eis + petitionem eorum.”</i> My sorrows and anxieties spoilt my appetite, and I + partook sparingly of the dishes served. However, my dear tutor had + preserved the unalterable gracefulness of his soul. + </p> + <p> + He abounded in amiable discourse, and one might have said that he was one + of those sages which Telemachus shows us conversing in the shades of the + Elysian Fields, and not a man pursued as a murderer and reduced to a + roving and miserable life. M. d’Asterac, believing that I had passed the + night at the cookshop, kindly inquired after my parents, and, as he could + not abstract himself for a single moment from his visions, said: + </p> + <p> + “When I speak of that cook as being your father it is quite understood + that I express myself in a worldly sense, and not according to nature. + Nothing proves, my son, that you have not been begot by a Sylph. It is the + very thing I prefer to believe, in so far as your spirit, still delicate, + shall grow in strength and beauty.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir! don’t speak like that,” replied my tutor, and smiled. “You + oblige him to hide his spirit so as not to damage his mother’s good name. + But if you knew her better you could not but think with me that she never + had any intercourse with a Sylph; she is a good Christian who has never + accomplished the work of the flesh with any other man than her husband, + and who carries her virtue written distinctly on her features, very + different from the mistress of that other cookshop, Madame Quonion, about + whom they talked so much in Paris, as well as in the provinces, in the + days of my youth. Have you never heard of her, sir? Her lover was M. + Mariette, who later on became secretary to M. d’Angervilliers. He was a + stout man, who left a jewel every time he visited his beloved; one day a + Cross of Lorraine or a Holy Ghost; another day a watch or a chatelaine, or + perhaps a handkerchief, a fan, a box. For her sake he rifled the jewellers + and seamstresses of the fair of St Germain. He gave her so much that, + finding his shop decorated like a shrine, the master-cook became + suspicious that all that wealth could not have been honestly acquired. He + watched her, and very soon surprised her with her lover. It must be said + that the husband was but a jealous fellow. He flew into a temper, and + gained nothing by it, but very much the reverse. For the amorous couple, + plagued by his wrangling, swore to get rid of him. M. Mariette had no + little influence. He got a <i>lettre de cachet</i> in the name of that + unhappy Quonion. On a certain day the perfidious woman said to her + husband: + </p> + <p> + “Take me, I beg of you, on Sunday next out to dinner somewhere in the + country. I promise myself uncommon pleasure from such an excursion.” + </p> + <p> + She became caressing and pressing, and the husband, flattered, agreed to + all her demands. On the Sunday, he got with her into a paltry hackney + coach to go to Porcherons. But they had hardly got to Roule when a posse + of constables placed in readiness by Marietta arrested him, and took him + to Bicetre, from whence he was sent to the Mississippi, where he still + remains. Someone composed a song which finished thus: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Un mari sage et commode + N’ouvre les yeux qu’a demi + Il vaut mieux etre a la mode, + Que de voir Mississippi.’ +</pre> + <p> + And such is, doubtless, the most solid lesson to be derived from the + example given by Quonion the cook. + </p> + <p> + “As to the story itself, it only needs to be narrated by a Petronius or by + an Apuleius to equal the best Milesian fables. The moderns are inferior to + the ancients in epic poetry and tragedy. But if we do not surpass the + Greeks and Latins in story-telling it is net the fault of the ladies of + Paris, who never cease enriching the material for tales by their ingenious + and graceful inventions. You certainly know, sir, the stories of + Boccaccio. I am sure that had that Florentine lived in our days in France + he would make of Quonion’s misfortune one of his pleasantest tales. As far + as I am myself concerned I have been reminded of it at this table for the + sole purpose, and by the effect of contrast, to make the virtue of Madame + Leonard Tournebroche shine. She is the honour of cookshops, of which + Madame Quonion is the disgrace. Madame Tournebroche, I dare affirm it, has + never abandoned those ordinary commonplace virtues the practice of which + is recommended in marriage, which is the only contemptible one of the + seven sacraments.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not deny it,” said M. d’Asterac. “But Mistress Tournebroche would be + still more estimable if she should have had intercourse with a Sylph, as + Semiramis had and Olympias and the mother of that grand pope Sylvester + II.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, sir,” said the Abbé Coignard, “you are always talking to us of Sylphs + and Salamanders. Now, in simple good faith, have you ever seen any of + them?” + </p> + <p> + “As clearly as I see you this very moment,” replied M. d’Asterac, “and + certainly closer, at least as far as Salamanders are concerned.” + </p> + <p> + “That is not sufficient, my dear sir, to make me believe in their + existence, which is against the teachings of the Church. For one may be + seduced by illusions. The eyes, and all our senses, are messengers of + error and couriers of lies. They delude us more than they teach us, and + bring us but uncertain and fugitive images. Truth escapes them, because + truth is eternal, and invisible like eternity.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said M. d’Asterac, “I did not know you were so philosophical, nor of + so subtle a mind.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s true,” replied my good master. “There are days on which my soul is + heavier, and with preference attached to bed and table. But last night I + broke a bottle on the head of an extortioner, and my mind is very much + exalted over it. I feel myself capable of dissipating the phantoms which + are haunting you, and to blow off all that mist. For after all, sir, these + Sylphs are but vapours of your brain.” + </p> + <p> + M. d’Asterac stopped him with a kind gesture and said: + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, abbé; do you believe in demons?” + </p> + <p> + “Without difficulty I can reply,” said my good master, “that I believe of + demons all that is reported of them in the Scriptures, and that I reject + as error and superstition all and every belief in spells, charms and + exorcism. Saint Augustine teaches that when the Scriptures exhort us to + resist the demons, it requires us to resist our passions and intemperate + appetites. Nothing is more detestable than the deviltries wherewith the + Capuchins frighten old women.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” said M. d’Asterac, “you do your best to think as an honest man. + You hate as much as I do myself the coarse superstitions of the monks. + But, after all, you do believe in demons, and I have not had much trouble + to make you avow it. Know, then, that they are no other than Sylphs and + Salamanders, ignorance and fear have disfigured them in timid + imaginations. But, as a fact, they are beautiful and virtuous. I will not + lead you in the ways of the Salamanders, as I am not quite sure of the + purity of your morals; but I can see no impediment, abbé, to a + frequentation of the Sylphs, who inhabit the fields of air, and + voluntarily approach man in a spirit of friendliness and affection, so + that they have been rightly named helping genii. Far from driving us to + perdition, as the theologians believe, who change them into devils, they + protect and safeguard their terrestrial friends. I could make you + acquainted with numberless examples of the help they give. But to be short + I’ll repeat to you one single case which was told to me by Madame la + Maréchale de Grancey herself. She was middle-aged, and a widow for several + years, when, one night, in her bed, she received the visit of a Sylph, who + said to her: ‘Madame, have a search made in the wardrobe of your deceased + husband. In the pocket of a pair of his breeches a letter will be found, + which, if it became known, would ruin M. des Roches, my good friend and + yours. Find that letter and burn it.’ + </p> + <p> + “The maréchale promised not to neglect this recommendation and inquired + after news of the defunct maréchal from the Sylph, who, however, + disappeared without giving any reply. On waking she summoned her women, + and bade them look if some of the late maréchal’s garments remained in his + wardrobe. The attendants reported that nothing was left, and that the + lackeys had sold them all to old clothes dealers. Madame de Grancey + insisted on her women trying to find at least one pair of breeches. + </p> + <p> + “Having searched in every corner they finally discovered a very + old-fashioned pair of black satin, embroidered with carnations, and handed + them to their mistress, who found a letter in one of the pockets, which + contained more than would have been needed to incarcerate M. des Roches in + one of the state prisons. She burned the letter at once, and so that + gentleman was saved by his good friends the Sylph and the maréchale. + </p> + <p> + “Are such, I ask you, abbé, the manners of demons? But let me give you + another startling hit on the matter, which will impress you more, and will + I am sure go to the heart of a learned man such as yourself. It is + doubtless known to you that the Academy of Dijon is rich in wits. One of + them, whose name cannot be unknown to you, living in the last century, + prepared with great labour an edition of Pindar. One night, worrying over + five verses the sense of which he could not disentangle, so much was the + text corrupt, he dozed off, quite despairing, at cockcrow. During his + sleep, a Sylph, who wished him well, transported his spirit to Stockholm + into the palace of Queen Christina, conducted him to the library, and took + from one of the shelves a manuscript of Pindar’s showing him the difficult + passage. The five verses were there, as well as two or three annotations + which rendered them perfectly intelligible. + </p> + <p> + “In the violence of his contentment, our savant woke up, struck a light, + and pencilled down the verses as they appeared to him in his sleep. After + that he went to sleep again profoundly. On the following morning, thinking + over his night’s adventure, he at once resolved to try to get a + confirmation. M. Descartes happened at that very time to be in Sweden, + reading to the queen on philosophy. Our Pindarist knew him, but was on + still closer terms with M. Chanut, the Swedish ambassador in France. He + wrote requesting him to forward a letter to M. Descartes, in which he + asked him to be informed if there really was in the queen’s library at + Stockholm a manuscript of Pindar containing the version he mentioned. M. + Descartes, an extremely courteous man, replied to the academician of Dijon + that, as a fact, her Majesty possessed a manuscript of Pindar, and that he + had himself read there the verses, with the various readings contained in + the letter.” + </p> + <p> + M. d’Asterac, who had been peeling an apple during his narration, looked + at M. Coignard to enjoy the success of his discourse. + </p> + <p> + My dear tutor smiled and said: + </p> + <p> + “Ah, sir! I clearly see that I flattered myself with an idle hope, and + that one cannot make you give up your vain imaginations. I confess with a + good grace that you have shown us an ingenious Sylph, and that I actually + wish for such an obliging secretary. His assistance would be particularly + useful to me on two or three passages in Zosimus the Panopolitan which are + very obscure. Could you not be so good as to give me the means to evoke, + if necessary, some Sylph librarian as expert as that of Dijon?” + </p> + <p> + M. d’Asterac replied gravely: + </p> + <p> + “That’s a secret, abbé, that I will willingly unveil to you. But be warned + that you would be a lost man should you communicate it to a profane + person.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be uneasy,” said the abbé. “I have a strong desire to know so fine + a secret, but I will not conceal from you that I do not expect any effect + from it, as I do not believe in Sylphs. Instruct me, if you please.” + </p> + <p> + “You request me?” replied the cabalist. “Well, then, know that whenever + you want the assistance of a Sylph, you have but to pronounce the simple + word <i>Agla</i>, and the sons of the air will at once come to you. But + understand, M. Abbé, that the word must be spoken by the heart as well as + by the lips, and that faith alone gives it its virtue. Without faith it is + nothing but a useless murmur. Pronounce it as I do at this moment, putting + in it neither soul nor wish, it has, even in my own mouth, but a very + slight power, and at the utmost some of the children of light, if they + have heard it, glide into this room, the light shadows of light. I’ve + divined rather than seen them on yonder curtain, and they have vanished + when hardly visible. Neither you nor your pupil has suspected their + presence. But had I pronounced that magic word with real fervour you would + have seen them appear in all their splendour. They are of a charming + beauty. Now, sir, I have entrusted you with a grand and useful secret. Let + me say again, do not divulge it imprudently. And do not sneer at the + example of the Abbé de Villars, who, for having revealed their secrets, + was murdered by the Sylphs, on the road to Lyons.” + </p> + <p> + “On the Lyons road?” said my good tutor. “How strange!” + </p> + <p> + M. d’Asterac left us suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “I will now for the last time,” said the abbé, “visit that noble library + where I have enjoyed such austere pleasures and which I shall never see + again. Do not fail, Tournebroche, to be at nightfall at the Bergères + Circus.” + </p> + <p> + I promised to be there; it was my intention to lock myself in my room for + the purpose of writing to M. d’Asterac, and my dear parents, asking them + to kindly excuse me for not taking personal leave of them, as I had to fly + after an adventure wherein I was more unlucky than guilty. + </p> + <p> + When I reached the door of my room, I heard heavy snoring from within. + Peeping in I saw M. d’Anquetil in my bed, sleeping, his sword at the + bedside, playing cards strewn all over the quilt. For a moment I felt + tempted to run him through with his own sword, but the temptation did not + last, and I left him sleeping. Notwithstanding my grief I could not help + laughing when I thought that Jahel, being locked and bolted in by Mosaide, + could not rejoin him. + </p> + <p> + So I went to my tutor’s room, to write my letters, where I disturbed five + or six rats, who had begun to make a meal off his Boethius, which had + remained on the night table. I wrote to my mother and to M. d’Asterac, and + I composed the most touching epistle to Jahel. My tears fell on this when + I read it over for a second time. “Perhaps,” I said to myself, “the + faithless girl will cry too, and her tears will mix with mine.” + </p> + <p> + Then, overwhelmed as I was by fatigue and sorrow, I threw myself on my + tutor’s bed, and soon went off into a kind of semi-sleep, troubled by + dreams, erotic and sinister. I was awakened by the taciturn Criton, who + had entered the room and presented to me, on a silver salver, a sort of + curling paper, whereon a few badly written words were scribbled in pencil. + Someone expected me at once outside the castle. The note was signed “Friar + Ange, unworthy Capuchin.” I went as quickly as I could, and found the + little friar seated on the bank of a ditch in a state of pitiable + dejection. Wanting strength to get up, he looked at me with his big dog’s + eyes, nearly human and full of tears; his sighs moved his beard and chest. + In a tone which really pained me he said: + </p> + <p> + “Alas! Monsieur Jacques, the hour of trial has come to Babylon, as it is + said in the prophets. At the request of M. de la Guéritude, the Lieutenant + of Police had Mam’selle Catherine taken by the constables to the spittel, + from whence she’ll be sent to America by the next convoy. I was informed + of it by Jeannette the hurdy-gurdy player, who saw Catherine brought in a + cart to the spittel, as she left it herself after having been cured of an + evil ailment by the surgeon’s art—at least I hope so, please God! + And Catherine is to be transported, and no reprieve to be expected.” + </p> + <p> + And Friar Ange at this point in his discourse groaned and shed tears + abundantly. After doing my best to console him I asked if he had nothing + else to tell me. + </p> + <p> + “Alas! M. Jacques,” he replied. “I have intimated the essential, and the + remainder floats in my head like the Spirit of God on the waters, without + comparison if you please. The matter is dark altogether. Catherine’s + misfortune has taken away my senses. It needed the necessity of giving you + important news to bring me to the threshold of this cursed house, where + you live in company with all sorts of devils, and it was with dismay, and + after having recited the prayer of Saint Francis, that I ventured to knock + at the door for the purpose of handing to a lackey the note I wrote to + you. I do not know if you have been able to read it, as I have but little + practice in forming letters, and the paper was not of the best to write + on, but you see it is the honour of our holy order not to give way to the + vanities of our century! Ah! Catherine at the spittel! Catherine in + America! Is it not enough to break the hardest heart? Jeannette herself + wept abundantly, and did so in spite of her jealousy of Catherine, who + prevails over her in youth and beauty just as Saint Francis surpasses in + holiness all the other blessed ones. Ah, M. Jacques! Catherine in America! + Such are the strange ways of Providence. Alas! our holy religion is true, + and King David was right in saying that we are like the grass of the field—is + not Catherine at the spittel? The stones on which I am sitting are happier + man I, notwithstanding that I wear the signs of a Christian and a monk. + Catherine at the spittel!” + </p> + <p> + He sobbed again. I waited till the torrent of his sorrow had passed away, + and then asked him if he had any news of my parents. + </p> + <p> + “M. Jacques,” he replied, “‘tis they who have sent me to you, bearer of a + pressing message. I must tell you that they are not very happy, through + the fault of Master Léonard, your father, who passes in drinking and + gambling all the days God has given him. And savoury fumes of roasting + geese and fowls do not now arise to the signboard of <i>Queen Pédauque</i> + swinging sadly in the damp wind which rusts it. Where are the times when + the smell of your father’s cookshop perfumed the Rue Saint Jacques, from + the <i>Little Bacchus</i> to the <i>Three Maids</i>? Since yonder sorcerer + visited it, everything wastes away, beasts and men, in consequence of the + spell he has thrown on it. And vengeance divine is manifest there since + that fat Abbé Coignard made his entry, and I was cast out. It was the + beginning of the evil, inaugurated by M. Coignard, who prides himself on + the depths of his knowledge, and the distinction of his manners. Pride is + the spring of all evil. Your pious mother was very wrong, M. Jacques, not + to have been satisfied with such teaching as I charitably gave you, and + which would have made you fit to superintend the cooking, to manage the + larding, and to carry the banner of the guild after the demise, the + funeral service and the obsequies of your worthy father, which cannot be + very far off, as all life is transitory and he drinks to excess.” + </p> + <p> + It may be easily understood how sorely I was afflicted by this news. My + tears and those of Friar Ange mixed freely together. However, I inquired + after my mother. + </p> + <p> + Friar Ange replied: + </p> + <p> + “God, who afflicted Rachel in Rama, has sent to your mother, Monsieur + Jacques, sundry tribulations for her good, and to chastise Master Léonard + for the sin he committed by maliciously expelling, in my humble person, + our Lord Jesus Christ from his cookshop. He has transferred most of the + purchasers of poultry and pies to the daughter of Madame Quonion, who + turns the spit at the other end of the Rue Saint Jacques. Your mother sees + with sorrow that the other house is blessed at the cost of her own, and + that her shop is now deserted to such a degree that, figuratively + speaking, moss covers its threshold. She is sustained in her trials, + firstly, by her devotion to Saint Francis; secondly, by the consideration + of the progress of your worldly position, which enables you to wear a + sword like a man of condition. + </p> + <p> + “But this second consolation has been much shaken by the constables + calling this very morning at the cookshop to take you into custody, and + carry you to the Bicetre Prison, to break stones for a year or two. It was + Catherine who denounced you to M. de la Guéritude, but you must not blame + her for it; she did her duty as a Christian by confessing the truth. She + accused you and the Abbé Coignard of being M. d’Anquetil’s accomplices, + and gave a faithful account of all the murder and bloodshed perpetrated in + the course of that terrible night. Alas! her truthfulness was of no use; + she was carried to the spittel. It’s downright horrible to think of it.” + </p> + <p> + At this point of his story, the little friar covered his face with his + hands and sobbed and cried anew. + </p> + <p> + Night had come, and I was afraid to fail in my appointment. Pulling the + little friar out of the ditch, I put him on his feet, and wished him to + keep me company on my walk along the Saint Germain road to the Circus of + the Bergères. He obeyed me willingly. Sadly walking by my side, he asked + my assistance in disentangling the mixed-up threads of his thoughts. I put + him back to where the constables came to search for me at the cookshop. + </p> + <p> + “As they could not find you,” he continued, “they wanted to take your + father. Master Léonard pretended he did not know where you were hidden. + Your mother said the same, and took her sacred oath on it. May God forgive + her, Monsieur Jacques, as evidently she perjured herself. The constables + began to get cross. Your father reasoned well with them, and took them to + have a drink with him, after which they parted quite friendly. Meanwhile + your mother went after me to the <i>Three Maids</i>, where I was + soliciting alms according to the holy rules of my order. She sent me to + you to warn you that immediate flight is your only safety, as the + Lieutenant of Police would soon discover your retreat.” + </p> + <p> + Listening to this sad news, I walked with a quicker step, and we passed + the bridge of Neuilly. + </p> + <p> + On the rather steep hill leading to the circus, the elms of which soon + became visible, the little friar said with a dying voice: + </p> + <p> + “Your mother particularly asked me to warn you of the danger you are in, + and handed to me a little bag she had secreted under her dress. I cannot + find it,” he added, after having felt all over his body. “How do you + expect me to find anything after losing Catherine? She was devoted to + Saint Francis, and lavish of alms, and now they have treated her like a + harlot, and will shave her head; it’s heartbreaking to think that she will + look like a milliner’s doll, and be shipped in that state to America, + where she runs the risk of dying by fever and being eaten by cannibal + savages.” + </p> + <p> + When he ended this discourse with a sigh we had reached the circus. To the + left, the inn of the <i>Red Horse</i> showed its roof over a double row of + elms, its dormer windows with their pulleys, while under the foliage the + gateway was to be seen wide open. + </p> + <p> + I slackened my walk, and the little friar sat down on the roots of a tree. + </p> + <p> + “Friar Ange,” I said to him, “you mentioned a satchel my dear mother + handed you for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite right; she wished me so to do,” replied the little Capuchin, “and I + have put it somewhere so safely that I cannot remember where, and you + ought to know, Monsieur Jacques, that I could not have lost it for any + other reason but from too much carefulness.” + </p> + <p> + I rather sharply said that I did not believe he had lost the satchel, and + should he not find it at once I would search for it myself. + </p> + <p> + He understood and, sighing deeply, brought out from under his frock a + little bag made of coloured calico, and handed it to me. It contained a + crown piece and a medal with the effigy of the Black Virgin of Chartres, + which I kissed fervently, shedding tears of tenderness and repentance. The + little friar took out of his large pockets a parcel of coloured prints and + prayers, badly illuminated, made a rapid selection, and gave me two or + three of them, those he considered the most useful to pilgrims, + travellers, and all wandering people, saying: + </p> + <p> + “They are blessed and of good effect against danger of death and sickness. + You have only to recite the text printed on them, or to lay them on the + skin of your body, I give them to you, M. Jacques, for the love of God. Do + not forget to give me an alms. Keep in mind that I beg in the name of + Saint Francis. He’ll protect you, without fail, if you assist the most + unworthy of his sons, and that is precisely myself.” + </p> + <p> + Listening to his speech, I saw in the doubtful twilight a post-chaise and + four come out of the gateway of the <i>Red Horse</i> inn, heard the whips + cracking and the horses pawing the ground when the driver stopped on the + highroad, close to the tree on the roots of which Friar Ange was sitting. + It was not an ordinary post-chaise, but a very large, clumsy vehicle, + having room to seat four, and a small coupe in front. I looked at it for a + minute or two, when up the hill came M. d’Anquetil, with Jahel, carrying + several parcels under her cloak and wearing a mob-cap. M. Coignard + followed them, loaded with five or six books wrapped up in an old thesis. + When they reached the carriage the post boys lowered the carriage steps, + and my beautiful mistress, raising her skirt like a balloon, ascended into + the carriage, pushed from behind by M. d’Anquetil. + </p> + <p> + I ran towards them and shouted: + </p> + <p> + “Stop, Jahel! Stop, sir!” + </p> + <p> + But the seducer only pushed the perfidious girl the more, and her charming + rounded figure quickly disappeared. Preparing himself to climb after her, + one foot on the steps, he looked at me with surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Monsieur Tournebroche! You would then take from me all my mistresses! + Jahel after Catherine. Do you do it for a wager?” + </p> + <p> + But I did not hear what he said, and continued to call Jahel, the while + Friar Ange, having risen from his seat under the elm-tree, came up to the + carriage door, and offered to M. d’Anquetil pictures of Saint Roch, a + prayer to be recited during the shoeing of a horse, another against fever, + and asked him for charity with a mournful voice. + </p> + <p> + I should have stopped there the whole of the night, calling Jahel, if my + good tutor had not got hold of me and pushed me inside the large + compartment of the carriage, which he entered after me. + </p> + <p> + “Let them have the <i>coupé</i> by themselves,” he said to me, “and let us + travel in the large compartment. I have been looking for you, + Tournebroche, and, not to withhold anything from you, had quite made up my + mind to depart without you when, happily, I discovered you in company with + the Capuchin under yonder elm-tree. We could not delay any longer, as M. + de la Guéritude has given sharp orders to look everywhere for us. He has a + long arm, having lent money to the king.” + </p> + <p> + The carriage was moving on, but Friar Ange clung to the door, with hand + outstretched, begging pitifully. + </p> + <p> + I sank into the cushions. + </p> + <p> + “Alas, sir,” I exclaimed, “did you not tell me that Jahel was locked in + threefold?” + </p> + <p> + “My son,” replied my good master, “not too much confidence may be placed + in women, who always play their tricks on the jealous and their locks. If + the door is closed, they jump out of the window. You have no idea, my dear + Tournebroche, of the cunning of women. The ancients have reported + admirable examples of it, and many a one you’ll find in Apuleius, where + they are sprinkled like salt in the ‘Metamorphoses.’ But the best example + is given in an Arabian tale recently brought to Europe by M. Galand, and + which I will tell you. + </p> + <p> + “Schariar, Sultan of Tartary, and his brother, Schahzenan, walked one day + on the seashore, when they saw rise suddenly above the waves a black + column, moving towards the shore. They recognised it as a genie of the + most ferocious kind, in the form of an immensely tall giant, carrying on + his head a glass case locked with four iron locks. Both were seized with + dismay, so much so that they hid themselves in the fork of a tree standing + near. The genie however came on shore, and brought the glass case to the + tree where the two princes were hiding. Then he lay down and soon went to + sleep. His outstretched legs reached the sea, and his breathing shook + earth and heaven. During his terrifying repose the cover of the glass case + rose by itself, and out of it came a woman with a majestic body and of the + most perfect beauty. She raised her head—” + </p> + <p> + Here I interrupted his narrative, which I had hardly-listened to, and + exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “Ah! sir, what do you think Jahel and M. d’Anquetil are saying at this + moment, all by themselves in the <i>coupé</i>?’ + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” replied my dear tutor: “it’s their business, not ours. But + let me finish the Arabian tale, which is full of sense. You’ve interrupted + me inconsiderately, Tournebroche, at the very moment when the damsel, + looking up, discovered the two princes in the tree. She made them a sign + to come down; but desirous as they were to respond to the appeal of a + person of so much beauty, they were afraid to approach so terrible a + giant. Seeing that they hesitated she said to them in an undertone: ‘Come + down at once, or I wake up the genie.’ Her resolute and resolved + countenance made them understand that it was not a vain threat, and that + the safest, as also the most pleasant, thing to do was to go down without + delay, which they did as quietly as possible, so as not to wake the giant. + The lady, taking their hands, led them somewhat farther away under the + trees, and gave them to understand very clearly that she was ready at once + to give herself to both. Gracefully they accepted the beauty’s offer, and + as they were men of courage, fear did not spoil their enjoyment. Having + obtained from both what she had wished for, and seeing that each of the + two princes wore a ring, she asked them for their rings. Returning to the + glass case where she lived, she took out of it a chaplet of rings, and + showed it to the princes. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what is the meaning of this chaplet of rings? They are those + of all the men for whom I have had the same kindness as for you. Their + number, all told, is ninety-eight. I keep them as souvenirs, for that same + reason, and to complete the century I have asked for yours. And now to-day + I have had a full hundred lovers, in spite of the vigilance and care of + yonder giant, who never leaves me. He may lock me in the glass case as + much as he likes, and hide me in the depths of the sea. I deceive him as + often as I please.” + </p> + <p> + “That ingenious apologue,” added my good tutor, “shows you that the women + of the Orient, who are shut up and cloistered, are as cunning as their + sisters of the Occident, who are free of their movements. Whenever a woman + wants something there is no husband, lover, father, uncle, or tutor able + to prevent her carrying out her will. And therefore, my dear boy, you + ought not to be surprised that to deceive that old Mordecai was but + child’s play for Jahel, whose perverse spirit is made up of all the + cuteness of our she-geldings and the perfidy of the Orient. I guess her to + be as ardent in sensual pleasure, as greedy after gold and silver; + altogether a worthy descendant of the race of Aholah and Aholibah. + </p> + <p> + “She is of an acid and mordant beauty, and I do not deny that somehow she + excites me, although age, sublime meditations, and the miseries of an + agitated life have sufficiently mortified in me the lust of the flesh. + You’re suffering over the success of M. d’Anquetil’s adventure with her, + wherefore I reckon that you feel much more than I do the sharp tooth of + desire, and that jealousy is tearing you. And that’s the reason you blame + an action, irregular certainly, contrary to vulgar propriety, but withal + indifferent in character, or at least not adding much to the universal + evil. Inwardly you condemn me for having had a part in it, and you fancy + you defend the principle of chaste living when you do nothing except from + the prompting of your passions. Such is the way, my dear boy, that we + colour for the use of our own eyes our worst instincts. Human morals have + no other origin. Confess, however, that it would have been a pity to leave + such a fine girl for a single day longer with that old lunatic. + Acknowledge that M. d’Anquetil, young and handsome, is a better mate for + such a delicious creature, and resign yourself to accept what cannot be + altered. Such wisdom is difficult to practise; but it would have been more + difficult still, had your own mistress been taken from you. In such a case + you’d feel the iron teeth torture your flesh, filling your soul with + images odious and precise. This consideration, my boy, ought to ease your + present sufferings. Besides, life is full of labour and pain. It is this + which evokes in us the just hope of an eternal beatitude.” + </p> + <p> + Thus spoke my good tutor, while the elms of the king’s highway passed + quickly before our eyes. I did not let him know that he irritated my + griefs in trying to soothe them, and that he, without being aware of it, + had laid his finger on my wound. + </p> + <p> + Our first stoppage was at Juvisy, where we arrived in the rain early in + the morning. Entering the post inn I found Jahel in the corner of the + fireplace, where five or six fowls were roasting on a spit. She was + warming her feet, and showed part of a silken stocking, which was a great + trouble to me, because it brought her leg to my mind. I seemed to see all + the beauty of her satin skin, the down, and all other striking + circumstances. M. d’Anquetil was leaning on the back of the chair whereon + she was sitting, holding her cheeks with his hands. He called her his soul + and his life, asked her if she was hungry, and on her saying yes, he went + out to give the necessary orders. + </p> + <p> + Remaining alone with the unfaithful one I looked in her eyes, which + reflected the flames of the fire. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Jahel,” I exclaimed, “I am very unhappy; you have betrayed me, and + you no longer love me.” + </p> + <p> + “Who says that I do not love you any more?” she asked, and looked at me + with her velvety eyes of flame. + </p> + <p> + “Alas! mademoiselle, your conduct shows it sufficiently.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Jacques, could you envy the trousseau of Dutch linen and the godroon + plate that the gentleman is to present me with! I only ask for your + forbearance till he has fulfilled his promises, and after that you’ll see + that I am still to you as I was at the Croix-des-Sablons.” + </p> + <p> + “And in the meantime, Jahel? Alas! he will enjoy your favours.” + </p> + <p> + “I feel,” she replied, “that that will be a trifle, and that nothing will + efface the strength of the feeling you have inspired me with. Do not + torment yourself with such mere nothings; they are only of value by your + idea of them.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” I exclaimed, “my idea of them is horrible, and I am really afraid + that I shall not be able to survive your treachery.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at me with a somewhat mocking sympathy, and said with a smile: + </p> + <p> + “Believe me, my friend, neither of us will die of it. Think, Jacques, that + I am in want of plate and linen. Be prudent, do not show the feelings that + agitate you, and I promise to reward you for your discretion, later on.” + </p> + <p> + This hope softened somewhat my poignant grief. The innkeeper’s wife laid + on the table the lavender-scented cloth, the pewter plates, goblets and + pitchers. I was very hungry, and when M. d’Anquetil, in company with the + abbé, re-entered the dining-hall, inviting us to eat a morsel with him, I + willingly sat down between Jahel and my dear old tutor. We were afraid of + being followed, so after having put away three omelets and a couple of + spring chickens we resumed our journey. We resolved, seeing the danger of + pursuit, to pass every halting place without stopping as far as Sens, + where we decided to stay the night. + </p> + <p> + My imagination went horribly to that night at Sens, thinking that there + Jahel’s treachery would be completed. And so much was I troubled by those + but too legitimate apprehensions that I listened with but half an ear to + the discourse of my good master, to whom every trifling incident of our + journey suggested the most admirable reflections. + </p> + <p> + My jealous fears were not groundless. We alighted at the best inn at Sens, + that paltry hostelry of <i>The Armed Man</i>. Supper hardly over, M. + d’Anquetil took Jahel with him to his room, which was next to mine. You + may believe that I could not enjoy a wink of sleep. Jumping out of bed at + daybreak, I left my chamber of torture. I seated myself under the + waggoner’s porch, where the postboys drank white wine and played the deuce + with the servants. I remained there two or three hours contemplating my + misery. The horses were already harnessed when Jahel appeared under the + porch, shivering all over, under her black cloak. I could not bear the + sight of her, and turned my moistened eyes away. She came to me, sat close + to me on the stone, and told me sweetly not to be disconsolate, as what I + thought monstrous was but a trifle; that one has to be reasonable; that I + was too much a man of spirit to want a woman for myself alone; that if one + wished for that one had to take a housekeeper without brains or beauty, + and even then it was a big risk to run. + </p> + <p> + “And now, Jacques,” she added somewhat hurriedly, “I must leave you, and + quickly; I can hear the steps of M. d’Anquetil descending the stairs.” + </p> + <p> + She pressed a hasty kiss on my burning lips, giving and prolonging it with + the violent voluptuousness of fear, as the spurred boots of her sweetheart + made the wooden steps of the stairs creak, and the intriguer was in fear + of losing her Dutch linen trousseau and her godroon silver pot. + </p> + <p> + The postboy lowered the steps of the <i>coupé</i>, but M. d’Anquetil asked + Jahel if it would not be more pleasant to travel all four together in the + large compartment, and I recognised that that was the first effect of his + intimacy with Jahel, and that the full satisfaction of his desires had + left it less agreeable to be alone with her. My good old tutor had taken + care to provide himself with five or six bottles of white wine from the + cellar of <i>The Armed Man</i>, which he laid under the cushions, and + which we drank to overcome the monotony of the journey. + </p> + <p> + At midday we arrived at Joigny, a neat and pretty town. Foreseeing that my + ready money would be all used before we could arrive at the end of our + journey, and finding the idea intolerable of letting M. d’Anquetil pay my + part in the travelling expenses unless I was compelled to do so by the + most unavoidable necessity, I resolved to sell a ring and a medallion, + gifts from my mother, and went about the town in quest of a jeweller ready + to buy them. I discovered one in the square opposite the church, who sold + crosses and chains in a shop under the sign of <i>The Good Faith</i>. What + was my astonishment to find in this very shop, before the counter, my good + master, showing to the jeweller five or six little diamonds, and asking + the shopman what price he would offer for those stones. I recognised them + immediately as those which M. d’Asterac had shown us. + </p> + <p> + The jeweller examined the stones, and looking at the abbé from under his + spectacles said: + </p> + <p> + “Sir, these stones would be of great value if they were genuine. But they + are not, and no touchstone is needed to find that out. These are nothing + but glass beads, good only for children to play with, or to be used in the + crown of a village Holy Virgin, where they would have a charming effect.” + </p> + <p> + Having listened to that reply, M. Coignard picked up his diamonds and + turned his back on the jeweller. In so doing he became aware of my + presence, and looked rather confused over it. I brought my business to an + end promptly, and meeting my dear old tutor at the shop door I mildly + reproached him with the wrong he had done to himself, as well as to his + companions, by taking these stones, which for his greater guilt might have + been real. + </p> + <p> + “My son,” he replied, “God, to keep me innocent of crime, willed these + stones to be false and a mere sham. I avow to you that I did wrong to take + them. You seem sorry about it; it’s a leaf of my life’s book I should like + to tear out, like some others not so neat and immaculate as they ought to + be. I understand deeply all that is reprehensible in my conduct. But no + man has a right to be entirely cast down when he is faulty, and just now, + and in this special case, I think I ought to say of myself, in the words + of an illustrious learned man: ‘Consider your great frailty, of which you + make but too often a show; and withal it is for your salvation that such + things should rise up in the road of your life. Not everything is lost for + you if oftentimes you find yourself afflicted and rudely tempted; and if + you succumb to temptation you’re a man, not a god; you’re flesh and blood, + not an angel. How could you expect to remain always in a state of virtue + when the angels in heaven and the first man in Eden could not remain + faithful to virtue?’ Such are, my dear Tournebroche, the only + conversations adapted to the present state of my soul. But, after this + unhappy occurrence, which I do not wish to dwell on longer, is it not time + to return to the inn, there to drink, in company with the postboys, who + are simpleminded and of easy intercourse, one or more bottles of country + wine?” + </p> + <p> + I quite agreed, and we soon reached the hostelry, where we found M. + d’Anquetil, who, returning like ourselves from the town, had brought some + playing cards. He played a game of piquet with my tutor, and when we + resumed our journey they continued to play in the carriage. That rage for + play which occupied my rival gave me occasion for an undisturbed + conversation with Jahel, who liked very much to chat with me, since she + was left to herself. Her talk had a kind of bitter sweetness for me. + Reproaching her for her perfidy and unfaithfulness, I gave vent to my + grief in feeble or violent complaints. + </p> + <p> + “Alas! Jahel!” I said, “the memory and the image of your tenderness, which + made but lately my dearest delight, have become a cruel torture to me when + I think that to-day you belong to another person, whereas formerly you + were mine.” + </p> + <p> + She replied: + </p> + <p> + “A woman does not behave equally to all men.” + </p> + <p> + And when I prolonged my lamentations and reproaches to excess she said: + </p> + <p> + “I am quite aware that I have caused you some pain. But that is no reason + for you to plague me a hundred times a day with your useless moans.” + </p> + <p> + M. d’Anquetil when he lost was in a bad temper and molested Jahel, while + she, anything but patient, threatened to write to her Uncle Mosaïde to + come and fetch her back. These quarrels were at first rather pleasant to + me, and gave me no small hopes; but after a repeated renewal of them I + became rather anxious, as they were always followed by impetuous + reconciliations, which exploded suddenly into kisses and lascivious + whisperings. M. d’Anquetil could hardly bear my presence. He had on the + other hand a vivid tenderness for my good tutor, which he well deserved + for his always joyful humour and the incomparable elegance of his mind. + They played and drank together with a daily growing sympathy. Knee to + knee, so as to steady the table whereon they played cards they laughed, + bantered, chaffed each other, and if occasionally they became angry, and + threw the cards in one another’s face, and swore at each other with such + oaths as would have made the boxers of Port Saint Nicolas or the bargemen + of the Mail blush, M. d’Anquetil swore by God Almighty, the Holy Virgin + and all the saints, that in all his life he had never met with a worse + thief than the Abbé Coignard. Notwithstanding it remained clearly evident + that he liked my good tutor; and it was a real pleasure, as soon as one of + these quarrels had terminated, to listen to his laughter as he said: + </p> + <p> + “Abbé, you’ll be my almoner and play piquet with me. You’ll also have to + hunt with us. In the remotest corner of the Perche we will look out for a + horse strong enough to carry your weight, and you’ll get hunting clothes + like the ones I saw worn by the Bishop of Uzès. It is, besides, high time + you had a new suit of clothes; your breeches, abbé, hardly keep on your + behind.” + </p> + <p> + Jahel also inclined towards the irresistible charm with which my dear + tutor influenced all mankind. She made up her mind to repair, if possible, + all the disorders of his dress. First she tore up one of her gowns and + used the pieces to patch up the coat and breeches of my venerable friend; + she also made him a present of a laced handkerchief to use as a band. My + good tutor accepted these little presents with a dignity full of + graciousness. More than once I had occasion to observe that he was a + gallant when talking to women. He took a lively interest in them without + ever showing the slightest indiscretion. He praised them with the science + of a connoisseur, giving them counsels out of his long experience, + diffusing over them the unlimited indulgence of a heart always ready to + forgive any kind of human weakness, and withal, never omitted any occasion + to make them understand the great and useful truths. + </p> + <p> + We arrived on the fourth day of our journey at Montbard, and alighted on a + hill, from which we could overlook the whole town, which appeared in a + small space as if it had been painted on canvas by a clever limner anxious + to reproduce every detail. + </p> + <p> + “Look,” my dear old tutor said, “on these steeples, towers, roofs, which + rise up out of the green. It is a town, and without actually searching for + its history and name, it is well to contemplate it as the worthiest + subject of meditation we may encounter on the surface of the world. As a + fact any town furnishes material for speculations of the spirit. The + postboys tell us that yonder is Montbard, a place utterly unknown to me. + Nevertheless I am not afraid to affirm, by analogy, that the people living + therein resemble ourselves, are egotistic cowards, perfidious gluttons, + dissolute. Otherwise they could not be human beings and descendants of + Adam, at once miserable and venerable, and in whom all our instincts, down + to the most ignoble, have their august origin. The only possible doubtful + matter with yonder people, is to know if they are more inclined to food or + to procreation. But a doubt is hardly permissible; a philosopher will + soundly opine that hunger is for these unhappy ones a more pressing + necessity than love. In the greenness of my youth I believed that the + human animal is before all things inclined to sexual intercourse. But that + was a wanton error, as it is quite clear that human beings are more + interested in conserving their own life than in giving life to others. + Hunger is the axis of humanity; but after all, as it seems to be useless + to discuss the matter any further, I’ll say, with your permission, that + the life of mortals has two poles—hunger and love. And here it is + that one has to open ears and soul! These hideous creatures who are born + only to devour or to embrace furiously, one the other, live together under + the sway of laws which precisely interdict their satisfying that double + and fundamental concupiscence. These ingenious animals, having become + citizens, voluntarily impose on themselves all sorts of privations; they + respect the property of their neighbours, which is prodigious, if you take + their avaricious nature into consideration; they observe the rules of + modesty, which is an enormous hypocrisy, but generally consists in but + seldom speaking of that of which they think without ceasing. Then, let’s + be true and honest, gentlemen, when we look on a woman, we do not attach + our thoughts to the beauties of her soul or the pleasantness of her + spirit; when we approach her we have in view principally her natural form. + And the amiable creatures know it so well that they have their dresses + made by the fashionable dressmakers and take good care not only not to + veil their charms, but to exaggerate them by all sorts of artifices. And + Mademoiselle Jahel, who certainly is not a savage, would be distressed if, + on her, art had gained the advantage over nature to such a degree as to + prevent the fulness of her bosom and the roundness of her thighs being + seen. And so it is that, since Adam’s fall, we see mankind hungry and + incontinent. Why do they, when assembled in towns, impose on themselves + privations of all kinds, and submit to a rule of life contrary to their + own corrupted nature? It is said that they find it advantageous, and that + they feel that their individual security depends on such restriction. But + that would be to suppose them to have too much reasoning power, and, + what’s more, a false reasoning, because it is absurd to save one’s life at + the expense of all that makes it reasonable and valuable. It is further + said that fear keeps them obedient, and it is true that prison, gallows + and wheels are excellent assurers of submission to existing laws. But it + is also certain that prejudice conspires with the laws, and it is not easy + to see how compulsion could have been universally established. Laws are + said to be the necessary conformity of things; but we have become aware + that that conformity is contradictory to nature, and far from being + necessary. Therefore, gentlemen, I’ll look for the source and origin of + the laws not in man, but outside man, and I should think that, being + strangers to mankind, they derive from God, who not only formed with His + own mysterious hands earth and water, plants and animals, but the people + also, and human society. I’m inclined to believe that the laws come direct + from Him, from His first decalogue, and that they are inhuman because they + are divine. It must be well understood that I here consider the codes in + their principles and in their essence, without taking note of their + ridiculous diversities and their pitiable complications. The details of + customs and prescriptions, the written as well as the oral, are man’s + work, and to be despised. But do not let us be afraid to recognise that + the town is a divine institution. As a result, every government ought to + be theocratic. One priest, famous for the part he took in the declaration + of 1682, M. Bossuet, was not in error, when he wanted to form the rules of + polity after the maxims of the Scriptures; and if he has pitiably failed + in this endeavour, you have to accuse the weakness of his genius alone, + which was too narrowly attached to examples taken from the books of Judges + and Kings, without seeing that God, when He works on this world, + proportions Himself to time and space, and knows the difference between + Frenchmen and Israelites. The city established under His true and sole + legitimate authority will not be the town of Joshua, Saul and David; it + will rather be the town of the gospels, the town of the poor, where + working-man and prostitute will not be humiliated by the Pharisee. Oh, + sirs, how excellent it would be to extract from the Scriptures a polity + more beautiful and more saintly than that which was extracted therefrom by + that rocky and sterile M. Bossuet! What a city, more harmonious than that + erected by the sounds of the lyre of Orpheus, could be built on the maxims + of Jesus Christ, on the day when His priests, no more sold to emperors and + kings, manifest themselves as the true princes of the people!” + </p> + <p> + While, standing round my good master, we listened to his discourse, we + were, without noticing it, surrounded by a troop of beggars, who, limping, + shivering, spitting, frightening the sparrows, shook their swellings and + deformities, spreading evil smells and suffocating us with their + blessings. They struggled passionately for some small silver pieces M. + d’Anquetil threw among them, fell to the ground, and rolled in the dust. + </p> + <p> + “It’s painful to look on these people,” said Jahel with a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “‘That pity,” said M. Coignard, “suits you like a jewel, Mademoiselle + Jahel; your sighs ornament your bosom heaving under them like a breath + each of us would like to respire from your lips. But allow me to say that + such tenderness, which is not less touching from being an interested one, + troubles you inwardly by a comparison of yonder miserable beings with + yourself, and by the instinctive idea that your young body touches, so to + say, this hideous, ulcerated and mutilated flesh, as in truth it is bound + and attached to them in as far as members of Our Lord Jesus Christ. In + consequence you cannot look on such corruption of a human body without + seeing it at the same time as a possibility of your own body. And these + wretches have shown themselves to you like prophets, announcing that + sickness and death are the lot of the family of Adam in this world. For + this very reason you sighed, mademoiselle. + </p> + <p> + “As a fact, there is not the slightest reason to believe yonder ulcerated + and verminous beggars less happy than kings and queens. It must not be + said that they are poorer, if, as it appears, that farthing picked up by + that crippled woman, and which she presses on her heart in frantic joy, + seems to her more precious than a pearl collar is to the mistress of a + prince-bishop of Cologne and Salzburg. To really understand our spiritual + and true interests we should rather envy the life of that cripple who + crawls towards us on his hands than that of the King of France or the + Emperor of Germany, Being equal before God, they perhaps have peace in + their hearts, which the other has not, and the invaluable treasure of + innocence. But hold up your petticoats, mademoiselle, for fear that you + introduce the vermin with which I see they are covered.” + </p> + <p> + Such was my good tutor’s speech, and we all listened willingly. + </p> + <p> + At the distance of three leagues from Montbard, one of the harnesses + broke, and, the postboys having failed to bring rope with them, we were + detained on the road, as the place of the accident was far from any human + dwelling. My good master and M. d’Anquetil whiled away the time by playing + and sympathetic quarrels, of which they had made a habit. While the young + nobleman was surprised to see his opponent turn up the king oftener than + seemed possible by the laws of chance, Jahel, full of emotion, asked me in + a whisper if I could not see behind us a carriage in one of the turnings + of the road. Looking back to the place she indicated, I could actually see + a kind of Gothic vehicle of a ridiculous and strange form. + </p> + <p> + “Yonder carriage,” said Jahel, “stopped at the same moment as ours. That + means that we are followed. I am curious to discover the features of the + people travelling in that vehicle. I feel very uneasy about it. Does not + one of the travellers wear a very narrow and high headgear? The carriage + very much resembles the one in which my uncle brought me, when a child, to + Paris after he had killed the Portuguese. It remained, I believe, in one + of the coach-houses at the Castle of Sablons. It really seems to be the + same, of horrible memory, because I remember my uncle in it, fuming with + rage. You cannot conceive, Jacques, how violent his hate is. I myself had + to bear his rage the day I came away. He locked me in my room and vomited + the most horrible curses on the Abbé Coignard. I shiver when I think what + his rage must have been when he found my room empty and the sheets still + attached to the window by which I left to fly with you.” + </p> + <p> + “You ought to say with M. d’Anquetil.” + </p> + <p> + “How punctilious you are! Did we not depart together? Yonder carriage + torments me, it is so much like my uncle’s.” + </p> + <p> + “Be sure, Jahel, that it’s the carriage of some honest Burgundian, who + goes about his business and does not think of us.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t know,” said Jahel. “I’m afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “You cannot fear, however, that your uncle could run after you in his + state of decrepitude. He does not occupy himself with anything but cabala + and Hebraic dreams.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t know him,” she replied, and sighed. “He is occupied with naught + but myself. He loves me as much as he hates the rest of the universe. He + loves me in a manner— + </p> + <p> + “In a manner?” + </p> + <p> + “—In all the manners—in short he loves me.” + </p> + <p> + “Jahel, I shudder to hear you. Good heavens: that Mosaide loves you + without that disinterestedness which is so admirable in an old man, and so + well suited for an uncle? Tell me all, Jahel-all!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! you can tell it better than I, Jacques.” + </p> + <p> + “I remain stupid. At his age, is it possible?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear friend, your skin is white, and your soul also. Everything + astonishes you. That candour is your most striking charm. You’re deceived + by anyone who wants to deceive you. They make you believe that Mosaide is + a hundred and thirty years old; but he is hardly older than sixty. They + told you that for years he lived in the Great Pyramid, but as a fact he + has been a banker at Lisbon. And it depended only on me to pass in your + eyes as a Salamander.” + </p> + <p> + “What, Jahel, do you tell me the truth? Your uncle—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and that is the secret of his jealousy. He believes the Abbé + Coignard to be his rival. He disliked him instinctively, at first sight. + But it is a great deal worse since he overheard a few words of the + conversation I had with that good abbé in the thorn bush, and I’m sure he + hates him now as the cause of my flight and my elopement. For, after all, + I’ve been abducted, my friend; a fact that ought to enhance my worth in + your eyes. I was certainly very ungrateful to leave so good an uncle. But + I could not endure any longer the slavery he kept me in. And I also had an + ardent wish to become rich, and it is very natural, is it not, to wish for + all the good things when one is young and pretty? We have but one life, + and that is short enough. No one has taught me all the fine lies about the + immortality of the soul.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! Jahel,” I exclaimed, in an ardour of love, provoked by her own + coolness. “Alas! I did not want anything else with you at the Chateau des + Sablons. What was wanting for your happiness?” + </p> + <p> + She made me a sign to show that M. d’Anquetil was observing us. The + harness had been repaired and our carriage rolled on again along the road + bordered on both sides by vineyards. + </p> + <p> + We stopped at Nuits to sup and to sleep. My dear tutor drank half-a-dozen + bottles of Burgundy, which warmed up his eloquence marvellously. M. + d’Anquetil kept him company, glass in hand, but to hold his own in + conversation also was a thing of which this nobleman was not quite + capable. + </p> + <p> + The meat was good, the beds were bad. M. Coignard slept in the lower + chamber, under the stairs, in the same feather bed with the host and his + wife, and all three thought they would be suffocated. M. d’Anquetil with + Jahel took the upstairs room, where the bacon and the onions were + suspended on hooks driven into the ceiling. I myself climbed by means of a + ladder to a loft and stretched out on a bundle of straw. Being awakened by + the moonlight, a ray of which fell into my eyes, I suddenly saw Jahel in + her night-cap coming through the trap door. At a cry that I gave she put + her finger to her lips. + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” she said to me, “Maurice is as drunk as a stevedore and a marquis. + He sleeps the sleep of Noah.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is Maurice?” I inquired, rubbing my eyes. + </p> + <p> + “It’s Anquetil. Who did you think it was?” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody, but I did not know that his name was Maurice.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s not long that I knew it myself, but never mind.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, Jahel, it’s of no importance.” + </p> + <p> + She was in her chemise, and the moonlight fell like drops of milk on her + naked shoulders. She slipped down at my side, called me by the sweetest of + names and by the most horrid of coarse names, in whispers sounding out of + her lips like heavenly murmurs. And then she became dumb, and kissed me + with the kisses she alone was able to give, and in comparison with which + the caresses of any other woman were but an insipidity. + </p> + <p> + The constraint and the silence enhanced the furious tension of my nerves. + Surprise, the joy of revenge, and, perhaps, a somewhat perverse jealousy + inflamed my desires. The elastic firmness of her flesh and the supple + violence of the movements wherewith she enveloped me demanded, promised, + and deserved the most ardent caresses. We became aware, during that + wonderful night, of voluptuousness the abyss of which borders on + suffering. + </p> + <p> + When I came down to the innyard in the morning I met M. d’Anquetil, who, + now that I had deceived him, appeared to me less odious than formerly. On + his part he felt better inclined to me than he had yet done since we + started on our travels. He talked familiarly to me, with sympathy and + confidence; his only reproach was that I did not show to Jahel all the + regard and attention she deserved, and did not give her the care an honest + man ought to bestow on every woman. + </p> + <p> + “She complains,” he said, “of your want of civility. Take care, my dear + Tournebroche; I should be sorry for a difference to arise between her and + yourself. She’s a pretty girl, and loves me immensely.” + </p> + <p> + The carriage had rolled on for more than an hour when Jahel put her head + out of the coach window and said to me: + </p> + <p> + “The other carriage has reappeared. I should like to discover the features + of the two men who occupy it, but I cannot.” + </p> + <p> + I replied that at such a distance, and in the morning mist, it would be + impossible to discern them. + </p> + <p> + “But,” she exclaimed, “those are not faces.” + </p> + <p> + “What else do you want them to be?” I questioned, and burst out laughing. + </p> + <p> + Now, in her turn, she inquired of me what silly idea had sprung into my + brain to laugh so stupidly and said: + </p> + <p> + “They are not faces, they are masks. Yonder two men follow us and are + masked.” + </p> + <p> + I informed M. d’Anquetil that seemingly an ugly carriage followed us. But + he asked me to let him alone. + </p> + <p> + “If all the hundred thousand devils were on our track,” he exclaimed, “I + should not care a rap for it as I have enough to do to look after that + obese old abbé who plays his tricks with the cards in the most artful way, + and who robs me of my money. I almost suspect, Tournebroche, you call my + attention to yonder coach for the purpose of aiding and abetting that old + sharper. Cannot a carriage be on the same road as ours without causing you + anxiety?” + </p> + <p> + Jahel whispered to me: + </p> + <p> + “I predict, Jacques, that yonder carriage brings trouble for us. I have a + presentiment of it, and my presentiments have never failed to come true.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you want to make me believe that you have the gift of prophecy?” + </p> + <p> + Gravely, she replied: + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I have.” + </p> + <p> + “What, you are a prophetess!” I cried, smiling. “Here is something + strange!” + </p> + <p> + “You sneer and you doubt because you have never seen a prophetess so near + at hand. How did you wish them to look?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought that they must be virgins.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s not necessary,” she replied, with assurance. + </p> + <p> + The threatening carriage had disappeared at a turning of the road. But + Jahel’s uneasiness had, without his acknowledging it, impressed M. + d’Anquetil, who ordered the postboys to hurry their horses, promising them + extra good tips. And by an excess of care he passed to each of them a + bottle of the wine that the abbé had placed in reserve in the bottom of + the carriage. + </p> + <p> + The postillions made their horses feel the stimulus that the wine gave to + them. + </p> + <p> + “You can calm yourself, Jahel,” said he; “at the speed we are going that + antique coach, drawn by the horses of the Apocalypse, will never catch + us.” + </p> + <p> + “We run like cats on hot bricks,” said the abbé. + </p> + <p> + “If only it would last!” said Jahel. + </p> + <p> + We saw the vineyards on our right disappear rapidly. On the left the River + Saône ran slowly. Like a hurricane we passed the bridge of Tournus. The + town itself rose on the other side of the river on a hill crowned by the + walls of an abbey, proud as a fortress. + </p> + <p> + “That,” said the abbé, “is one of the numberless Benedictine abbeys which + are strewn like so many gems on the robe of ecclesiastical Gaul. If it had + pleased God that my destiny should match my character I should have lived + an obscure life, gay and sweet, in one of these abodes. There is no other + religious order I hold in such high esteem, for their doctrines as well as + for their morals, as the Benedictines. They have admirable libraries. + Happy he who wears their habit and follows their holy rules! It may be + from the inconvenience I feel at this moment in being shaken to pieces in + this carriage, which no doubt will very soon be upset by sinking into one + of the many holes of this confounded road, or it may perhaps be the effect + of age, which is the time for retreat and grave thinking; whatever be the + cause I wish more ardently than ever to seat myself at a table in one of + those venerable galleries, where books plenty and choice are assembled in + quiet and silence. I prefer their entertainment to that of men, and my + dearest wish is to wait, in the work of the spirit, for the hour in which + it will please God to call me from this earth. I shall write history, and + by preference that of the Romans at the decline of the Republic, because + it is full of great actions and examples. I’ll divide my zeal between + Cicero, Saint John Chrysostom and Boethius and my modest and fruitful life + would resemble the garden of the old man of Tarentum. + </p> + <p> + “I have experienced different manners of living, and I think the best is + to give oneself to study, to look on peacefully at the vicissitudes of + men, and to prolong, by the spectacle of centuries and empires, the + brevity of our days. But order and continuity are needed. And that’s the + very thing that has always been wanting in my existence. If, as I hope, I + am able to disentangle myself from the bad position I’m in just now, I’ll + do my best to find an honourable and safe asylum in some learned abbey + where <i>bonnes lettres</i> are held in honour and respect. I can see + myself there already, enjoying the illustrious peace of science. Could I + obtain the good offices of the Sylph assistants of whom that old fool + d’Asterac speaks, and who appear, it is said, when they are invoked by the + cabalistic name of AGLA—” + </p> + <p> + At the very moment my dear tutor spoke these words a violent shock brought + down a rain of glass on our heads, in such confusion that I felt myself + blinded, as well as suffocated under Jahel’s petticoats, while the abbe + complained in a smothered voice that M. d’Anquetil’s sword had broken the + remainder of his teeth, and over my head Jahel screamed fit to tear to + pieces all the air of the Burgundian valleys. M. d’Anquetil, in rough, + barrack-room style, promised to get the postboys hanged. When at last I + was able to rise, he had already jumped out through a broken window. We + followed him, my dear tutor and I, by the same exit, and then all three of + us pulled Jahel out of the overturned vehicle. No harm had been done to + her, and her first thought was to adjust her head-dress. + </p> + <p> + “Thank God!” said my tutor, “I have not suffered any other damage than the + loss of a tooth, and that was neither whole nor white. Time had already + effected its decay.” M. d’Anquetil, legs astride and arms akimbo, examined + the carriage. + </p> + <p> + “The rascals,” he said, “have put it in a nice state. If the horses are + got up they will break it all to pieces. Abbé, that carriage is no good + for anything else but to play spillikins with.” + </p> + <p> + The horses had fallen topsy-turvy, one on the other, and were kicking + furiously. In a heap of croups and legs and steaming bellies, one of the + postboys was buried, his boots in the air. The other was spitting blood in + the ditch, where he had been thrown. M. d’Anquetil shouted to them: + </p> + <p> + “Idiots! I really don’t know why I do not spit you on my sword.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said Abbé Coignard, “would it not be better to get that poor fellow + out of the midst of these horses wherein he is entangled?” + </p> + <p> + We all went to work with a will, and when the horses were freed and raised + we were able to discover the extent of the damage done. One of the springs + was broken, one of the wheels also, and one of the horses lame. + </p> + <p> + “Fetch a smith,” ordered M. d’Anquetil. + </p> + <p> + “There is no smith in the neighbourhood,” was the postboy’s reply. + </p> + <p> + “A mechanic of some kind.” + </p> + <p> + “There is none.” + </p> + <p> + “A saddler.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no saddler.” + </p> + <p> + We looked round. To the west the vineyards extended to the horizon their + long peaceful lines. On the hill smoke came out of a chimney near a + steeple. On the other side, the Saone, veiled by a light mist, lost itself + slowly in the calm running of her flowing waters. The shadows of the + poplars elongated themselves on the banks. The shrill cry of a bird + pierced the deep silence. + </p> + <p> + “Where are we?” asked M. d’Anquetil. + </p> + <p> + “At two full leagues from Tournus,” replied the postillion, spitting + blood, “and at least four leagues from Mâcon.” + </p> + <p> + And, extending his arm towards the smoking chimney: + </p> + <p> + “Up there, that village ought to be Vallars, but it’s not up to much.” + </p> + <p> + “Blast you!” roared M. d’Anquetil. + </p> + <p> + While the horses struggled we went near the carriage, which was lying + sadly on its side. + </p> + <p> + The little postboy who had been taken out from the midst of the horses + said: + </p> + <p> + “As to the spring, that could be mended by a strong piece of wood. It will + only make the carriage shake you more. But there is the broken wheel! And, + worst of all, my hat is under it, smashed to pieces.” + </p> + <p> + “Damn your hat!” said M. d’Anquetil. + </p> + <p> + “Your lordship may not be aware that it was quite new,” was the postboy’s + meek reply. + </p> + <p> + “And the window glasses are broken!” sighed Jahel, seated on a + portmanteau, at the side of the road. + </p> + <p> + “If it were but the glasses,” said M. Coignard, “a remedy could soon be + found by lowering the blinds, but the bottles cannot be in the same state + as the windows. I must look to it as soon as the coach can be raised. I am + also in fear for my Boethius, which I had placed under the cushions with + some other good books.” + </p> + <p> + “It does not matter,” said M. d’Anquetil. “I have the cards in my + waistcoat pocket. But shall we not get any supper?” + </p> + <p> + “I had thought of it,” said the abbé. “It is not in vain that God has + given to the use of men the animals who crowd the earth, the sky and the + water. I am an excellent angler; the care necessary to allure the fish + particularly suits my meditative mind, and the River Orne has seen me + managing my line while meditating on the eternal verities. Do not trouble + over your supper. If Mademoiselle Jahel will be good enough to give me one + of the pins which keep her garments together I’ll soon make a hook of it, + to enable me to fish in yonder river, and I flatter myself I shall return + before nightfall laden with two or three carp, that we will grill over a + brushwood fire.” + </p> + <p> + “I am quite aware,” said Jahel, “that we are reduced to somewhat of a + savage state. But I could not give you a pin, abbé, without your giving me + something in exchange for it; otherwise our friendship would be + jeopardised. And that I do not want in any case.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I will make an advantageous exchange, mademoiselle: I’ll pay for + your pin with a kiss.” + </p> + <p> + And, taking the pin out of Jahel’s hand, he kissed her on both cheeks with + inconceivable courtesy, gracefulness and decency. + </p> + <p> + After having lost plenty of time, a reasonable step was at last taken. The + big postillion, who no longer spat blood, was sent to Tournus on one of + the horses to bring back with him a blacksmith; the other boy was ordered + to light a fire, as the air became fresh, and a sharp wind was rising. + </p> + <p> + We discovered on the road, a hundred paces from the place of our + breakdown, a cliff of soft stone, the foot of which was quarried in + several places. We resolved to wait in one of those caves, warming + ourselves until the return of the boy sent to Tournus. The second boy tied + the three remaining horses to the trunk of a tree, near our cavern. The + abbé, who had made a fishing rod with the branch of a willow-tree, some + string, a cork and a pin, went a-fishing as much for his philosophical and + meditative inclination as for the sake of bringing us back fish. M. d + Anquetil, remaining with Jahel and me in the grotto, proposed a game of <i>l’ombre,</i> + which is played by three, and which he said, being a Spanish game, was the + very one for persons as adventurous as ourselves. And true it is that, in + that quarry, in a deserted road, our little company would not have been + unworthy to figure in some of the adventures of Don Quixote in which + menials take such a strong interest. And so we played <i>l’ombre.</i> I + committed a great many errors, and my impetuous partner got cross, when + the noble and laughing face of my good tutor became visible at the light + of our fire. He untied his handkerchief, and took out of it some four or + five small fish, which he opened with his knife, decorated with the image + of the late king, dressed as a Roman emperor, standing on a triumphal + column; and cleaned them with dexterity, as if he had never lived anywhere + else than in the midst of the fishwomen at the market. He excelled as much + in trifles as in matters of the greatest importance. Arranging the fish on + the embers, he said: + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you, in all confidence, that following the river in search of + a favourable place for fishing, I perceived the apocalyptic coach which + frightens Mademoiselle Jahel. It stopped somewhat behind our carriage. You + ought to have seen it pass by while I was fishing, and mademoiselle’s soul + ought to have been comforted by it.” + </p> + <p> + “We have not seen it,” replied Jahel. + </p> + <p> + “Then it may have moved on only after the night had become dark. But at + least you heard it rumbling?” + </p> + <p> + “We have not,” said Jahel. + </p> + <p> + “It is then that this night is blind as well as deaf. It is not to be + supposed that yonder coach, which had not a wheel broken, not a horse + lamed, would have remained standing still on the road. What for?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, what for?” said Jahel. + </p> + <p> + “Our supper,” said my good tutor, “reminds me of the simplicity of the + repasts described in the Bible, where the pious traveller divided with an + angel, on the bank of the river, the fishes of the Tigris. But we are in + want of bread, salt and wine. I’ll try to take out of our coach the + provisions put there, and look if by a fortunate chance some bottles have + remained intact. There are occasions when glass remains whole but steel is + broken. Tournebroche, my son, give me your steel; and you, mademoiselle, + do not fail to turn the grilling fish. I’ll be back in a moment.” + </p> + <p> + He left. His somewhat heavy tread sounded in a de crescendo, and soon we + could hear him no more. + </p> + <p> + “This very night,” said M. d’Anquetil, “reminds me of the night before the + battle of Parma. You may be aware that I have served under Villars and + been in the War of Succession. I was with the scouts. We could not see + anything. That’s one of the best ruses of war. Men are sent out to + reconnoitre the enemy who return without having reconnoitred anything. But + reports are drawn up, after the battle, and then it is that the tacticians + are triumphant. Thus, at nine o’clock at night, I was sent out scouting + with twelve men—” + </p> + <p> + And he gave us a narrative of the War of Succession and of his amours in + Italy; his story had lasted for well-nigh a quarter of an hour when he + exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “That rascal of an abbé does not come back. I bet he drinks all the wine + which remained in the coach.” + </p> + <p> + Thinking that my dear tutor might possibly be embarrassed, I rose and went + to help him. It was a moonless night, and if the sky was resplendent in + the light of thousands of stars, the earth was clad in a darkness which my + eyes, dazzled by the light of the flames, could not pierce. + </p> + <p> + Having walked about fifty steps on the black road. I heard a terrible cry, + which did not sound as if coming from a human breast, a cry altogether + unlike all cries I had heard before, a horrible cry. I ran in the + direction from whence came this clamour of fatal distress. But fear and + darkness checked my steps. Arrived at last at the place where our coach + lay on the road, shapeless and enlarged by the night, I found my dear + tutor seated on the side of the ditch, bent double. Trembling I asked him: + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter? Why did you shout?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; why did I shout?” he said, in a new and altered voice. “I did not + know I had cried out. Tournebroche, did you not see a man? He struck me in + the dark, very fiercely; he gave me a blow with his fist.” + </p> + <p> + “Come,” I said to him, “get up, my dear master.” + </p> + <p> + Having risen he fell back heavily on the ground. + </p> + <p> + I tried to raise him, and my hands became moist when I touched his breast. + </p> + <p> + “You’re bleeding!” + </p> + <p> + “Bleeding? I’m a dead man. He has killed me. I thought that it was but a + blow with the fist. But it’s a wound, and I feel that I shall never + recover from it.” + </p> + <p> + “Who struck you, my dear tutor?” + </p> + <p> + “It was the Jew. I did not see him, but I know it was he. How can I know + that it was the Jew, when I did not see him? Yes; how is it? What strange + things! It’s not to be believed, is it, Tournebroche? I have the taste of + death in my mouth, which cannot be defined. It was to be, my God! But why + rather here than somewhere else? That’s the mystery! <i>‘Adjutorium + nostrum in nomine Domini—Domine exaudi orationem meam—‘”</i> + </p> + <p> + For a short time he prayed in a low voice, then: + </p> + <p> + “Tournebroche, my son,” he said to me, “take the two bottles I found in + the coach and have placed here beside me. I can do no more. Tournebroche, + where do you think the wound is? It’s in the back I suffer most, and it + seems to me that life runs out by the legs. My spirits are going.” + </p> + <p> + Murmuring these words he fainted softly in my arms. I tried to carry him, + but I had only strength enough to lay him lengthwise on the ground. + Opening his shirt, I discovered the wound; it was in the breast; very + small, and bleeding little. I tore my wristbands to pieces and laid them + on the wound; I called out, shouted for help. Soon I thought I heard help + coming from the side of Tournus, and I recognised M. d’Asterac. Unexpected + as the meeting was, I did not actually feel surprised; too deeply was I + the prey of the immense sorrow I felt holding in my arms, dying, that best + of all masters. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter, my son?” asked the alchemist. + </p> + <p> + “Help me, sir,” I replied, “the Abbé Coignard is dying. Mosaide has killed + him.” + </p> + <p> + “It is true,” said M. d’Asterac, “that Mosaide has come here in an old + chariot in pursuit of his niece, and that I have accompanied him to exhort + you, my son, to return to your employment with me. Since yesterday we came + near your coach, which we saw break down just now in a rut. At that very + moment Mosaide alighted from the carriage, and it may be that he wanted to + take a walk, or perhaps he made himself invisible, as he can do. I have + not seen him again. It is possible that he has already found his niece to + curse her; such is the intention. But he has not killed M. Coignard. It is + the Elves, my son, who have killed your master, to punish him for the + disclosure of their secrets. Nothing is surer than that.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! sir,” I exclaimed, “what does it matter, if it was the Jew or the + Elves who killed him; we must assist him.” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, my son,” replied M. d’Asterac, “it is of the greatest + importance. For should he have been stricken by a human hand it would be + easy for me to cure him by magic operation; but having provoked the Elves + he could never escape their infallible vengeance.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke, M. d’Anquetil and Jahel, having heard my shouts, approached, + with the postboy, who carried a lantern. + </p> + <p> + “What,” said Jahel, “is M. Coignard unwell?” + </p> + <p> + And kneeling close to my good tutor, she raised his head and made him + inhale the smell of her salts. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle,” I said to her, “you’re the cause of his death, which is + the vengeance for your abduction. Mosaide has killed him.” + </p> + <p> + From my dying master she lifted up her face pale with horror and shining + with tears. + </p> + <p> + “And you too,” she said, “believe that it’s easy to be a pretty girl + without causing mischief?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” I replied, “what you say is but too true. But we have lost the + best of men.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment Abbé Coignard sighed deeply, opened his eyes, called for + his book of Boethius, and fainted again into unconsciousness. + </p> + <p> + The postboy thought it would be best to carry the wounded man to the + village of Vallars, which was only half-a-league distant. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll go,” he said, “to fetch the steadiest of the horses which remain. + We’ll tie the poor fellow securely on it, and lead it slowly ahead. I + think him very ill. He looks exactly like the courier who was murdered at + Saint Michel on the same road, at four stages from here, near Senecy, + where my sweetheart lives. That poor devil moved his eyelids and turned up + the whites of his eyes like a bad woman, saving your presence, gentlemen. + And your abbé did the same when mam’selle tickled his nose with her + bottle. It’s a bad sign with a wounded man; girls don’t die of it when + they turn their eyes up in that fashion. Your lordships know it well. And + there is some distance, thank God! between the little death and the great. + But it’s the same turning up of the eyes... Remain, gentlemen, I’ll go and + fetch the horse.” + </p> + <p> + “This rustic is amusing,” said M. d’Anquetil, “with his turned-up eyes and + his bad women. I’ve seen in Italy soldiers who died on the battlefield + with a fixed look and eyes starting out of their head. There are no rules + for dying of a wound, actually not even in the military service, where + exactitude is pushed to the extreme. But will you, Tournebroche, in + default of a better qualified person, present me to yonder gentleman in + black, who wears diamond studs, and whom I reckon to be M. d’Asterac?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! sir,” I replied, “consider the presentation to be made. I have no + other feelings but to assist my dear tutor.” + </p> + <p> + “Be it so!” said M. d’Anquetil. + </p> + <p> + And approaching M. d’Asterac: + </p> + <p> + “Sir, I have taken your mistress away: I’m ready to answer for my deed.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” replied M. d’Asterac. “Grace be to heaven! I have no connection + with any woman, and do not understand what you mean.” + </p> + <p> + At this very moment the postboy returned with a horse. My dear tutor had + slightly recovered. We lifted him up, all four of us, and put him with the + greatest difficulty on the horse, where we tied him as securely as + possible. And we went off. I held him on one side, M. d’Anquetil on the + other. The postboy led the horse and carried the lantern. M. d’Asterac had + returned to his carriage. All went well as long as we kept on the + highroad; but when it became necessary to climb the small lanes of the + vineyards, my dear master, slipping at every movement of the horse, lost + the rest of his little strength, and fainted away again. We thought it + best to take him off the horse and carry him in our arms. The postboy held + him under the arms and I by the legs. The ascent was very rough, and I + expected to fall at least four times with my living cross, on the stones + of the path. At last the hill became easier. We entered a small lane + bordered by bushes, and soon discovered on our left the first roofs of + Vallars. We laid our burden softly on the turf, and for a moment took + breath. Lifting up the abbe again, we carried him into the village. + </p> + <p> + A pink light appeared eastwards on the horizon. The morning star, in the + pale sky, shone as white and peaceful as the moon, the light crescent of + which paled away in the west The birds began to chirp; my master sighed + heavily. + </p> + <p> + Jahel ran before us, knocking at the doors, in quest of a bed and a + surgeon. Carrying baskets and panniers the vine-growers went + grape-gathering. One of them said to Jahel that Gaulard on the market + place lodges man and beast. + </p> + <p> + “As to the surgeon, Coquebert, you’ll see him yonder under the shaving + plate which serves as his trade sign. He leaves his house to go to his + vineyard.” + </p> + <p> + He was a very polite little man. He told us that he had a bed free in his + house, as a short time ago his daughter had got married. + </p> + <p> + By his order, his wife, a stout dame wearing a white cap covered by a felt + hat, put sheets on the bed in the lower chamber. She helped us to undress + the Abbe Coignard and to put him to bed. And then she went out to fetch + the vicar. + </p> + <p> + In the meanwhile M. Coquebert examined the wound + </p> + <p> + “You see,” I said, “it’s small, and bleeds but little.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s not good at all,” he replied, “and I do not like it, my dear young + gentleman. I like a large wound which bleeds freely.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” said M. d’Anquetil, “that for a leech and a village squirt your + test is not a bad one. Nothing is worse than those little but deep wounds + which look a mere nothing. Tell me of a nice cut across the face. It’s + pleasant to look on, and heals in no time. But know, my good sir, that + this wounded man is my chaplain, and plays piquet with me. Are you the man + to put him on his legs again, notwithstanding your looks, which are rather + those of a vet?” + </p> + <p> + “At your service,” replied the barber-surgeon, bowing profoundly. “But I + also set broken bones and treat wounds. I’ll examine this one.” + </p> + <p> + “Make haste, sir,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Patience!” he replied. “First of all the wound must be washed, and I must + wait till the water gets warm.” + </p> + <p> + My good tutor, a little restored, said slowly, but with a fairly strong + voice: + </p> + <p> + “Lamp in hand, he’ll visit the corners of Jerusalem, and what is hidden in + darkness will be brought to light.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, dear master?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t, my son,” he replied; “I’m entertaining the sentiments fit for my + state.” + </p> + <p> + “The water is hot,” the barber said to me. “Hold the basin close to the + bed. I’ll wash the wound.” + </p> + <p> + And while he pressed on my tutor’s breast a sponge soaked in hot water, + the vicar entered the room with Madame Coquebert. He had a basket and a + pair of vine shears in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Here is then the poor man,” said he. “I was going to my vineyard, but + that of Jesus Christ has to be attended to first; my son,” he said as he + approached the stricken abbé, “offer your wound to our Lord. Perhaps it’s + not so serious as it’s thought to be. And for the rest, we must obey God’s + will.” + </p> + <p> + Turning to the barber, he asked: + </p> + <p> + “Is it very urgent, M. Coquebert, or could I go to my vineyard? The white + ones can wait; it’s not bad if they do get a little overripe, and a little + rain would only produce more and better wine. But the red must be gathered + at once.” + </p> + <p> + “You speak the truth, Monsieur le Cure,” M. Coquebert replied. “I’ve in my + vineyard some grapes which cover themselves with a certain moisture, and + which escape the sun only to perish by the rain.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” said the vicar, “humidity and drought are the two enemies of the + vine-grower.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing is truer,” said the barber, “but I’ll inspect the wound.” + </p> + <p> + Having said so he pushed one of his fingers into the wound. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Torturer!” exclaimed the patient. + </p> + <p> + “Remember,” said the vicar, “that our Lord forgave His torturers.” + </p> + <p> + “They were not barbarous,” said the abbe. + </p> + <p> + “That’s a wicked word,” said the vicar. + </p> + <p> + “You must not torment a dying man for his jokes,” said my good master. + “But I suffer horribly; that man assassinates me and I die twofold. The + first time was by the hands of a Jew.” + </p> + <p> + “What does he mean?” asked the vicar. + </p> + <p> + “It is best, reverend sir,” said the barber, “not to trouble yourself + about it. You must never want to hear the talk of a patient. They are only + dreams.” + </p> + <p> + “Coquebert,” said the vicar, “you don’t speak well. Patients’ confessions + must be listened to, and some Christians who never in all their lives said + a good word may, at the end, pronounce words which open Paradise to them.” + </p> + <p> + “I spoke temporally only,” said the barber. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le Cure,” I said, “the Abbe Coignard, my good master, does not + wander in his mind, and it is but too true that he has been murdered by a + Jew of the name of Mosaide.” + </p> + <p> + “In that case,” replied the vicar, “he has to see a special favour of God, + who willed that he perishes by the hand of a nephew of those who crucified + His Son. The behaviour of Providence is always admirable. M. Coquebert, + can I go to my vineyard?” + </p> + <p> + “You can, sir,” replied the barber. “The wound is not a good one, but yet + not of the kind by which one dies at once. It’s one of those wounds which + play with the wounded like a cat with a mouse, and with such play time may + be gained.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s well,” said the vicar. “Let’s thank God, my son, that He lets you + live, but life is precarious and transitory. One must always be ready to + quit it.” + </p> + <p> + My good tutor replied earnestly: + </p> + <p> + “To be on the earth without being of it, to possess without being in + possession, for the fashion of this world passes away.” + </p> + <p> + Picking up his shears and his basket, the vicar said: + </p> + <p> + “Better than by your cloak and shoes, which I see on yonder cupboard, I + recognise by your speech that you belong to the Church and lead a holy + life. Have you been ordained?” + </p> + <p> + “He is a priest,” I said, “a doctor of divinity and a professor of + eloquence.” + </p> + <p> + “Of which diocese?” queried the vicar. + </p> + <p> + “Of Seez in Normandy, a suffragan of Rouen.” + </p> + <p> + “An important ecclesiastical province,” said the vicar, “but less + important by antiquity and fame than the diocese of Reims, of which I am a + priest.” + </p> + <p> + And he went away. M. Jerome Coignard passed the day easily. Jahel wanted + to remain the night with him. At about eleven o’clock I left the house of + M. Coquebert and went in search of a bed at the inn of M. Gaulard. I found + M. d’Asterac in the market place. His shadow in the moonlight covered + nearly all the surface. He laid his hands on my shoulder as he was wont to + do, and said with his customary gravity: + </p> + <p> + “It’s time for me to assure you, my son, that I have accompanied Mosa’ide + for nothing else than this. I see you cruelly tormented by the goblins. + Those little spirits of the earth have attacked you, deceiving you with + all sorts of phantasmagoria, seducing you by a thousand lies, and finally + forcing you to fly from my house.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! sir,” I replied, “it’s quite true that I left your house in + apparent ingratitude, for which I beg your pardon. But I have been + persecuted by the constables, and not by goblins. And my dear tutor has + been murdered. That’s not a phantasmagoria.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not doubt,” the great man answered, “that the unhappy abbe has been + mortally wounded by the Sylphs, whose secrets he has revealed. He has + stolen from a sideboard some stones, which were the work of the Sylphs, + and which they left unfinished, and still very different from diamonds in + brilliancy as well as in purity. + </p> + <p> + “It was that avidity, and the indiscreet pronouncing of the name of Agla, + which has angered them. You must know, my son, that it is impossible for + philosophers to arrest the vengeance of this irascible people. + </p> + <p> + “I have heard from a supernatural voice, and also from Criton’s reports, + of the sacrilegious larceny M. Coignard committed by which he flattered + himself to find out the art by which Salamanders, Sylphs, and Gnomes ripen + the morning dew and insensibly change it into crystals and diamonds.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! sir, I assure you he thought of no such thing, and that it was that + horrible Mosa’ide who stabbed him with a stiletto on the road.” + </p> + <p> + My words very much displeased M. d’Asterac, who urged me in the most + pressing manner never to repeat them again. + </p> + <p> + “Mosaide,” he further said, “is a good enough cabalist to reach his + enemies without going to the trouble of running after them. Know, my son, + that, had he wanted to kill M. Coignard, he could have done it easily from + his own room by a magic operation. I see that you’re still ignorant of the + first elements of the science. The truth is that this learned man, + informed by the faithful Criton of the flight of his niece, hired + post-horses to rejoin her and eventually carry her back to his house, + which he certainly would have done, had he discovered in the mind of that + unhappy girl the slightest idea of regret and repentance. But, finding her + corrupted by debauchery, he preferred to excommunicate and curse her by + the globes, the wheels and the beasts of Ezekiel. That is precisely what + he has done under my eyes in the calashr where he lives alone, so as not + to partake of the bed and table of Christians.” + </p> + <p> + I kept mute, astonished by such dreams, but this extraordinary man talked + to me with an eloquence which troubled me deeply. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” he said, “do you not let yourself be enlightened by the counsels of + philosophers? What kind of wisdom do you oppose to mine? Consider that + yours is less in quantity without differing in essence. To you as well as + to me nature appears as an infinity of figures, which have to be + recognised and classified, and which form a sequence of hieroglyphics. You + can easily distinguish some of those signs to which you attach a sense, + but you are too much inclined to be content with the vulgar and the + literal, and you do not search enough for the ideal and the symbolic. And + withal the world is comprehensible only as a symbol, and all you see in + the universe is naught but an illuminated writing, which vulgar men spell + without understanding it. Be afraid, my son, to imitate the universal bray + in the style of the learned ones who congregate in the academies. Rather + receive of me the key of all knowledge.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment he stopped speaking, and then continued in a more familiar + tone: + </p> + <p> + “You are persecuted, my son, by enemies less terrible than Sylphs. And + your Salamander will not have any difficulty in freeing you from the + goblins as soon as you request her to do so. I repeat that I came here + with Mosa’ide for no other purpose than to give you this good advice, and + to press you to return to me and continue your work. I quite understand + that you want to assist your unhappy master till the end. You have full + license to do it. But afterwards do not fail to return to my house. Adieu! + I’ll return this very night to Paris with that great Mosaide whom you have + accused so unjustly.” + </p> + <p> + I promised him all he wanted, and crawled into my miserable bed, where I + fell asleep, weighed down as I was by fatigue and suffering. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX + </h2> + <h3> + Illness of M. Jerome Coignard + </h3> + <p> + The next morning, at daybreak, I returned to the surgeon’s house, and + there found Jahel at the bedside of my dear tutor, sitting upright on a + straw chair, with her head wrapped up in her black cape, attentive, grave + and docile, like a sister of charity. M. Coignard, very red, dozed. + </p> + <p> + “The night was not a good one,” she said to me in a whisper. “He has + talked, he sang, he called me Sister Germaine, and has made proposals to + me. I am not offended, but it is a proof that his mind wanders.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” I exclaimed, “if you had not betrayed me, Jahel, to ramble about + the country in company with a gallant, my dear master would not lie in bed + stabbed in his breast.” + </p> + <p> + “It is the misery of our friend,” she replied, “that causes me bitter + regrets. As for the rest, it is not worth while to think of it, and I + cannot understand, Jacques, how you can occupy your mind with it just + now.” + </p> + <p> + “I think of it always.” + </p> + <p> + “For my part, I hardly think of it. You are the cause of three-fourths of + your own unhappiness.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by that, Jahel?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean, my friend, that I have given the cloth, but that you do the + embroidery, and that your imagination enriches far too much the plain + reality. I give you my oath that the present hour I cannot remember the + quarter of what causes you grief, and you meditate over it so obstinately + that your rival is more present to your mind than I am myself. Do not + think of it any more, and let me give the abbe a cooling drink, for he + wakes up.” + </p> + <p> + At this very moment M. Coquebert approached the bedside, his + instrument-case in hand, dressed the wound anew, and said aloud that the + wound was on the best way to heal up. But taking me aside he said: + </p> + <p> + “I can assure you, sir, that the good abbe will not die from the wound he + has received, but to tell the truth I am afraid it will be difficult for + him to escape from a pleurisy caused by his wound. He is at present the + prey of a heavy fever. But here comes the vicar.” + </p> + <p> + My good master recognised him without any difficulty, and inquired after + his health. + </p> + <p> + “Better than the grapes,” replied the vicar. “They are all spoiled by <i>fleurebers</i> + and vermin, against which the clergy of Dijon organised this year a fine + procession with cross and banners. Next year a still finer one will have + to be arranged, and more candles burnt. It also will be necessary for the + official to excommunicate anew the flies which destroy the grapes.” + </p> + <p> + “Vicar,” said my good master, “it is said that you seduce the girls in + your vineyards. Fie! it is not right at your age. In my youth, like you I + had a weakness for the creatures. But time has altered me very much, and + quite lately I let a nun pass without saying anything to her. You do + otherwise with the damsels and the bottles, vicar. But you do worse by not + celebrating the masses you have been paid for, and by trafficking the + goods and chattels of the Church. You are a bigamist and a simoniac.” + </p> + <p> + Hearing this discourse the vicar was painfully surprised; his mouth + remained open, and his cheeks dropped wistfully on both sides of his big + face. And at last, with eyes on the ground, he sighed: + </p> + <p> + “What an unworthy attack on the character of my profession! What talk for + a man so near the tribunal of God! Oh, Monsieur l’Abbé, is it for you to + speak in that way, you who have lived a holy life and studied in so many + books?” + </p> + <p> + My dear master raised himself on his elbows. The fever gave him, + unhappily, that jovial mien of his that we had always liked so much. + </p> + <p> + “It is true,” he said, “that I have studied the ancient authors. But I + have read much less than the second vicar of the Bishop of Séez, for, as + he had the look and the mind of an ass, he was able to read two pages at + the same time, one with each eye. What do you say to that, you villain of + a vicar, you old seducer, who runs after the chicks by moonlight? Vicar, + your lady friend is built like a witch. She has hairs on her chin, she’s + the barber-surgeon’s wife. He is fully a cuckold, and well he deserves it, + that homunculus, whose whole medical science consists in the art of + blood-letting and giving a clyster.” + </p> + <p> + “God Almighty! What does he say?” exclaimed Madame Coquebert, “for sure he + has the devil in him.” + </p> + <p> + “I have heard the talk of many delirious patients,” said M. Coquebert, + “but not one has said such wicked things.” + </p> + <p> + “I am discovering,” said the vicar, “that we’ll have more trouble than we + expected to conduct this unhappy man to a peaceful end. There is a biting + humour in his nature and impurities I did not find out at first. His + speech is malicious, and unfit for a priest and a patient.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s the effect of the fever,” said the barber-surgeon. “But,” continued + the vicar, “that fever, if it’s not stopped, will bring him to hell. He + has gravely offended against what is due to a priest. But still, I’ll come + back to-morrow and exhort him, for I owe him, by the example of our Lord, + unlimited compassion. But I have my doubts about it. Unhappily there is a + break in my winepress, and all the labourers are in the vineyard. + Coquebert, do not fail to give word to the carpenter, and to call me to + your patient if he should suddenly get worse. These are many troubles, + Coquebert!” + </p> + <p> + The following day was such a good one for M. Coignard that we hoped he + would remain with us. He drank meat broth, and was able to rise in his + bed. He talked to each of us with his accustomed grace and sweetness. M. + d’Anquetil, who dwelt at Gaulard’s, came to see him, end rather + indiscreetly asked him to play piquet Smiling, my good master promised to + do so next week. But in the evening the fever returned. With pale eyes + swiming in unspeakable terror, and shivering and chattering teeth, he + shouted: + </p> + <p> + “There he is, the old fornicator. He is the son of Judas Iscariot begot on + a female devil, taking the form of a goat. But hanged he will be on his + father’s fig-tree, and his intestines will gush out to earth. Arrest him. + ...He kills me! I feel cold!” + </p> + <p> + But a moment later he threw the blanket off and complained of the heat. + </p> + <p> + “I’m very thirsty,” he said. “Give me some wine! And let it be cool! + Madame Coquebert, hasten to cool it in the fountain: the day will be a + burning one.” + </p> + <p> + It was night-time, he confounded the hours in his head. + </p> + <p> + “Be quick,” he also said to Madame Coquebert, “but do not be as simple as + the bell-ringer of the Cathedral of Seez, who, going to lift out of the + fountain some bottles he had put there to cool, saw his own shadow in ihe + water and shouted: ‘Hello, gentleman; come and help me. There are on the + other side some Antipodeans, who’ll drink our wine if we don’t take good + care.’” + </p> + <p> + “He is jovial,” said Madame Coquebert. “But just now he talked of me in a + manner quite indecent Should I have deceived Coquebert I certainly would + not have done it with the vicar, out of regard for his profession and his + age.” + </p> + <p> + This very moment the vicar entered the room and asked: + </p> + <p> + “Well, abbe, what are your dispositions now? What is there new?” + </p> + <p> + “Thank God,” answered M. Coignard, “there is nothing new in my soul, for, + as said Saint Chrysostom, beware of new things. Don’t walk in untrodden + ways, one wanders without end when one commences to wander. I have had + that sad experience, and lost myself for having followed untrodden roads. + I have listened to my own counsels, and they have conducted me to the + abyss. Vicar, I am a poor sinner, the number of my iniquities oppresses + me.” + </p> + <p> + “These are fine words,” said the vicar. “‘Tis God Himself who dictates + them to you. I recognise His inimitable style. Do you want to advance + somewhat the salvation of your soul?” + </p> + <p> + “Willingly,” said M. Coignard. “My impurities rise against me. I see big + ones and small. I see red ones and black. I see infinitesimals which ride + on dogs and pigs, and I see others which are fat and naked, with breasts + like leather bottles, bellies in great folds, and thighs of enormous + size.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible,” said the vicar, “that you can see as distinctly as that? + But if your faults are such as you say, it would be better not to describe + them and to be content to detest them in your own mind.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you, then, vicar,” replied the abbe, “that my sins were all made + like an Adonis? Don’t let us speak of it any more. And you, barber, give + me a drink. Do you know M. de la Musardiere?” + </p> + <p> + “Not that I know of,” said M. Coquebert. + </p> + <p> + “Then know,” replied my dear master, “that he was very taken with the + ladies.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s the way,” interrupted the vicar, “by which the devil takes his + advantage over men. But what subject do you follow, my son?” + </p> + <p> + “You’ll soon know,” said my good master. “M. de la Musardiere gave an + appointment to a virgin in a stable. She went, and he let her go away just + as she entered it. Do you know why?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not,” said the vicar, “but let us leave it.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” continued M. Coignard. “You ought to know that he took good + care to have no intercourse with her as he was afraid of begetting a + horse, on which account he would have been subject to criminal + prosecution.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said the barber, “he ought rather to have been afraid to engender an + ass.” + </p> + <p> + “Doubtless,” said the vicar. “But such talk does not advance us on the + road to heaven. It would be useful to retake the good way. But a little + while ago you spoke so edifyingly!” + </p> + <p> + Instead of giving reply, my good master began to sing, with rather a + strong voice: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Pour mettre en gout le roi Louison + On a pris quinze mirlitons + Landerinette + Qui tous le balai ont roll + Landeriri.” + </pre> + <p> + “If you want to sing, my son,” said the vicar, “you’d better sing a fine + Burgundian Christmas carol. You’d rejoice your soul by it and sanctify + it.” + </p> + <p> + “With pleasure,” replied my dear tutor. “There are some by Guy Barozai + which, I think, in their apparent rusticity, to be finer than diamonds and + more precious than gold. This one, for example: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Lor qu’au lai saison qu’ai jaule + Au monde Jesu-chri vin + L’ane et le beu l’echaufin + De le leu sofle dans l’etaule. + Que d’ane et de beu je sai + Dans ce royaume de Gaule, + Que d’ane et de beu je sai + Qui n’en a rien pas tan fai.’” + </pre> + <p> + The surgeon, his wife and the vicar sang together: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Que d’ane et de beu je sai + Dans ce royaume de Gaule, + Que d’ane et de beu je sai + Qui n’en a rien pas tan fai.” + </pre> + <p> + And my good master replied in a weaker voice: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Mais le pu beo de l’histoire + Ce fut que l’ane et le beu + Ainsin passire to deu + La nuit sans manger ni boire + Que d’ane et de beu je sai + Couver de pane et de moire + Que d’ane et de beu je sai + Que n’en a rien pas tan fai!” + </pre> + <p> + Then he let his head fall on the pillow and sang no more. + </p> + <p> + “There is good in this Christian,” said the vicar, “much good, and a while + ago he really edified me with his beautiful sentences. But I am not + without a certain apprehension, as everything depends on the end, and + nobody knows what’s hidden at the bottom of the basket God in His kindness + wills that one single moment brings us salvation, but this moment must be + the last one, so that everything depends on a single minute, in comparison + with which the whole life does not count. That’s what makes me tremble for + the patient, over whom angels and devils are furiously quarrelling. But + one must never despair of divine mercy.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI + </h2> + <h3> + Death of M. Jérôme Coignard + </h3> + <p> + Two days passed in cruel alternations. After that my good master became + extremely weak. + </p> + <p> + “There is no more hope,” M. Coquebert told me. “Look how his head lies on + the pillow, how thin his nose is.” + </p> + <p> + As a fact, my good master’s nose, formerly big and red, was nothing now + but a bent blade, livid like lead. + </p> + <p> + “Tournebroche, my son,” he said to me in a voice still full and strong but + of a sound quite strange to me, “I feel that I have but a short time to + live. Go and fetch that good priest, that he may listen to my confession.” + </p> + <p> + The vicar was in his vineyard. There I went. + </p> + <p> + “The vintage is finished,” he said, “and more abundant than I had hoped + for; now let’s go and help that poor fellow.” + </p> + <p> + I conducted him to my master’s bedside and we left him alone with the + dying. + </p> + <p> + An hour later he came out again and said: + </p> + <p> + “I can assure you that M. Jérôme Coignard dies in admirable sentiments of + piety and humility. At his request, and in consideration of his fervour, + I’ll give him the viaticum. During the time necessary for putting on my + holy garments, you, Madame Coquebert, will do me the favour to send to the + vestry the boy who serves me at mass every morning and make the room ready + for the reception of God.” + </p> + <p> + Madame Coquebert swept the room, put a white coverlet on the bed, placed a + little table at the bedside, and covered it with a cloth; she put two + candlesticks on the table and lit the candles, and an earthenware bowl + wherein a sprig of box swam in the holy water. + </p> + <p> + Soon we heard the tinkling of the little bell, saw the cross coming in, + carried by a child, and the priest clad in white carrying the holy + vessels. Jahel, M. d’Anquetil, Madame Coquebert and I fell on our knees. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Pax huic domui</i>,” said the priest. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Et omnibus habiantibus in en</i>,” replied the servitor. + </p> + <p> + Then the vicar took holy water and sprayed it over the patient and the + bed. + </p> + <p> + A moment longer he meditated and then he said with much solemnity: + </p> + <p> + “My son, have you no declaration to make?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” said M. Abbe Coignard, with a firm voice, “I forgive my + murderer.” + </p> + <p> + Then the priest gave him the holy wafer: + </p> + <p> + “<i>Ecce Agnus Dei, qui tollit peccata mundi.</i>” + </p> + <p> + My good master replied with a sigh: + </p> + <p> + “May I speak to my Lord, I who am naught but dust and ashes? How can I + dare to come unto you, I who do not feel any good in me to give me + courage? How can I introduce you into me, after having so often wounded + your eyes full of kindness?” + </p> + <p> + And the Abbe Coignard received the holy viaticum in profound silence, + interrupted by our sobs and by the great noise Madame Coquebert made + blowing her nose. + </p> + <p> + After having received, my good master made me a sign to come near him, and + said with a feeble but distinct voice: + </p> + <p> + “Jacques Tournebroche, my son, reject, along with the example I gave you, + the maxims which I may have proposed to you during my period of lifelong + folly. Be in fear of women and of books for the softness and pride accords + the little ones a clearer intelligence than the wise one takes in them. Be + humble of heart and spirit. God can give them. ‘Tis He who gives all + science. My boy, do not listen to those who, like me, subtilise on the + good and the evil. Do not be taken in by the beauty and acuteness of their + discourses, for the kingdom of God does not consist of words but of + virtue.” + </p> + <p> + He remained quiet, exhausted. I took his hand, lying on the sheet, and + covered it with kisses and tears. I told him that he was our master, our + friend, our father, and that I could not live without him. + </p> + <p> + And for long hours I remained waiting at the foot of his bed. + </p> + <p> + He passed so peaceful a night that I conceived a quite desperate hope. In + this state he remained part of the following day. But towards the evening + he became agitated and pronounced words so indistinctly that they remained + a secret between God and himself. + </p> + <p> + At midnight he fell into a kind of swoon, and nothing could be heard but + the slight scratching of his finger nails on the sheet. He no longer knew + me. + </p> + <p> + About two o’clock the death rattle began. The hoarse and rapid breathing + which came from his breast was loud enough to be heard far away in the + village street, and my ears were so full of it that I fancied I heard it + long after that unhappy day. At daybreak he made a sign with his hand + which we could not understand, and sighed long and deeply. It was his + last. His features took in death a majesty worthy of the genius that had + animated him, and the loss of which will never be repaired. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII + </h2> + <h3> + Funeral and Epitaph + </h3> + <p> + The Vicar of Vallars prepared a worthy funeral for M. Jerome Coignard. He + chanted the death mass and gave the benediction. + </p> + <p> + My good master was carried to the graveyard close by the church; and M. + d’Anquetil offered supper at Gaulard’s to all the people who had assisted + at the funeral. They drank new wine and sang Burgundian songs. + </p> + <p> + Afterwards I went with M. d’Anquetil to the vicar to thank him for his + good offices. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he said, “that priest has given us a grand consolation by his + edifying end. I have seldom seen a Christian die in such admirable + sentiments, and I think it fit to fix his memory by a suitable inscription + on his tombstone. Both of you, gentlemen, are learned enough to do that + successfully, and I engage myself to have the epitaph of the defunct + engraved on a large white stone, in the manner and style wherein you + compose it. But remember, in making the stone speak, to make it proclaim + nothing but the praise of God.” + </p> + <p> + I begged of him to believe that I should apply all my zeal to this work, + and M. d’Anquetil promised to give the matter a gallant and graceful turn. + </p> + <p> + “I will,” he said, “try to write French verse in the style of M. + Chapelle.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s right!” said the vicar. “But are you not curious to look at my + winepress? The wine will be good this year, and I have made enough for my + own and my servants’ use. Alas! save for the <i>fleurebers</i> we should + have had far more.” + </p> + <p> + After supper M. d’Anquetil called for ink, and began the composition of + his French verses. But he soon became impatient and threw up in the air + the pen, ink and paper. + </p> + <p> + “Tournebroche,” he said, “I’ve made two verses only, and I am not quite + sure that they are good. They run as follows: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Ci-dessus git monsieur Coignard + II faut bien mourir tot ou tard.’” + </pre> + <p> + I replied that the best of it was, that he had noi written a third one. + </p> + <p> + And I passed the night composing the following epitaph in Latin: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + D. O. M. + HIC JACET + + IN SPE BEATAE AETERNITATIS + DOMINUS HIERONYMUS COIGNARD + + PRESBYTER + + QUONDAM IN BELLOVACENSI COLLEGIO + ELOQUENTILE MAGISTER ELOQUENTISSIMU + SAGIENSIS EPISCOPI BIBLIOTHECARIUS SOLERTISSIMUS + ZOZIMI PANOPOLITANI INGENIOSISSIMUS + + TRANSLATOR + + OPERE TAMEN IMMATURATA MORTE INTERCEPTO + PERIIT ENIM CUM LUGDUNUM PETERET + JUDEA MANU NEFANDISSIMA + ID EST A NEPOTE CHRISTI CARNIFICUM + IN VIA TRUCIDATUS + + ANNO AET. LII + + COMITATE FUIT OPTIMA DOCTISSIMO CONVITU + INGENIO SUBLIMI + FACETIIS JUCUNDUS SENTENTTIS PLENUS + DONORUM DEI LAUDATOR + TIDE DEVOTISSIMA PER MULTAS TEMPESTATlS + CONSTANTER MUNITTJS + HUMILITATE SANCTISSIMA ORNATUS + SALUTI SUAE MAGIS INTENTUS +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + QUAM VANO ET FALLACI HOMINUM JUDICIO + SIC HONORIBUS MUNDANIS + NUNQUAM QUIESITIS + SIBI GLORIAM SEMPITERNAM + MERUIT +</pre> + <p> + which may be translated: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HERE SLEEPS + In the hope of a happy eternity + THE REVEREND JEROME COIGNARD + Priest + + Formerly a very eloquent professor of eloquence + At the college of Beauvais + Very zealous librarian to the Bishop of Seez + Author of a fine translation of Zosimus the Panopolitan + Which he unhappily left unfinished + When overtaken by his premature death + He was stabbed on the road to Lyons + In the 52nd year of his age + By the very villainous hand of a Jew + And thus perished the victim of a descendant of the murderer + Of Jesus Christ + + He was an agreeable companion + Of a learned conversation + Of an elevated genius + Abounding in cheerful speech and in good maxims + And praising God in his works + He preserved amid the storms of life an unshakable faith + In his truly Christian humility + More attentive to the salvation of his soul + Than to the vain and erroneous opinions of men + It was by living without honour in this world + That he walked towards eternal glory +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII + </h2> + <h3> + Farewell to Jahel-Dispersal of the Party + </h3> + <p> + Three days after the demise of my good master, M. d’Anquetil decided to + continue his journey. The carriage had been repaired. He gave the postboys + the order to be ready on the following morning. His company had never been + agreeable to me; in the state of sorrow I was in, it became odious. I + could not bear the idea of following him and Jahel. I resolved to look for + employment at Tournus or at Macon, and to remain hidden till the storm had + calmed down sufficiently to enable me to return to Paris, where I was sure + to be received with outstretched arms by my dear parents. I imparted my + intention to M. d’Anquetil, and excused myself for not accompanying him + any farther. He tried to retain me with a gracefulness I was not prepared + for, but soon willingly gave me leave to go where I wished. With Jahel the + matter was more difficult, but, being naturally reasonable, she accepted + the reasons I had for leaving her. + </p> + <p> + On the night before my departure, while M. d’Anquetil drank and played + cards with the barber-surgeon, Jahel and I went to the market place to get + a breath of air. It was embalmed by the scent of herbs and full of the + song of crickets. + </p> + <p> + “What a night!” I said to Jahel. “The year cannot produce another like it, + and perhaps all my life long I shall never see one so sweet.” + </p> + <p> + The flower-decked village graveyard extended before our eyes its + motionless turf, and the moonlight whitened the scattered graves on the + dark grass. The same thought came to both of us to say a last farewell to + our friend. The place where he was put to eternal rest was marked by a + tear-sprinkled cross planted deep in the mellow earth. The stone whereon + the epitaph was to be engraved had not yet been placed. We seated + ourselves very close to the grave on the grass, and there, by an + insensible but natural inclination, we fell into one another’s arms + without fearing to offend by our kisses the memory of a friend whom deep + wisdom had rendered indulgent to human weakness. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, Jahel whispered in my ear, where her mouth was already placed: + </p> + <p> + “I see M. d’Anquetil, who, from the top of the wall, looks eagerly towards + us.” + </p> + <p> + “Can he see us in this shadow?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “He certainly sees my white petticoat,” she said; “it’s enough, I think, + to tempt him to look for more.” + </p> + <p> + I first thought to draw my sword, and was quite decided to defend two + existences, which were at this moment still very much mixed. Jahel’s calm + surprised me, neither her movements nor her voice showed any fear. + </p> + <p> + “Go,” she said to me, “fly, and don’t fear for me. It’s a surprise I have + rather wished for. He began to get tired of me, and this encounter is + quite efficacious to reanimate his desires and season his love. Go and + leave the alone. The first moment will be hard, for he is of a very + violent disposition. He’ll strike me, but after, t shall be still dearer + to him. Farewell!” + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” I exclaimed, “did you take me then, Jahel, for Nothing but to + sharpen the desires of my rival?” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder that you also want to quarrel with me. Go, I say!” + </p> + <p> + “What! leave you like this?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s necessary. Farewell! He must not meet you here, I want to make him + jealous, but in a delicate manner. I Farewell! Farewell.” + </p> + <p> + I had hardly gone a few steps between the labyrinth of tombstones when M. + d’Anquetil, having come forward to enable him to recognise his mistress, + began to shout and to curse loud enough to awaken the village dead. I was + anxious to tear Jahel away from his rage; I thought he would kill her. I + glided between the tombstones to her assistance. But after a few minutes, + observing them very closely, I saw M. d’Anquetil pulling her out of the + cemetery and leading her towards Gaulard’s inn with a remainder of fury + she was easily capable of calming, alone and without help. + </p> + <p> + I returned to my room after they had entered theirs I could not sleep the + whole of the night, and looking out at daybreak, through an opening in the + window curtains I saw them crossing the courtyard apparently the best of + friends. + </p> + <p> + Jahel’s departure augmented my sorrow. I stretched myself full length on + my stomach on the floor of my room, and with my face in my hands cried + until the evening. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV + </h2> + <p> + I am pardoned and return to Paris—Again at the <i>Queen Pedauque</i>—I + go as Assistant to M. Blaizot—Burning of the Castle of Sablons—Death + of Mosaide and of M. d’Asterac. + </p> + <p> + From now onwards my life loses the interest which events had lent it, and + my destiny, having again become in conformity with my character, offers + nothing but ordinary occurrences. If I should prolong my memoirs my + narrative would very soon become tiresome. I’ll bring it to a close with + but few words. The Vicar of Vallars gave me a letter of introduction to a + wine merchant at Macon, with whom I was employed for a couple of months, + after which my father wrote to me that he had arranged my affair and that + I was free to return to Paris. + </p> + <p> + I took coach immediately and travelled with some recruits. My heart beat + violently when I again saw the Rue Saint Jacques, the clock of Saint + Benoit le Betourne, the signboard of the <i>Three Virgins</i> and the <i>Saint + Catherine</i> of M. Blaizot. + </p> + <p> + My mother cried when she saw me; I also cried, and we embraced and cried + together again. + </p> + <p> + My father came in haste from the <i>Little Bacchus</i> and said with a + moving dignity: + </p> + <p> + “Jacquot, my son, I cannot and will not deny that I Was very angry when I + saw the constables enter the <i>Queen Pedauque</i> in search of you, or, + in default of you, arresting me. They would not listen to any sort of + remonstrance, alleging that I could easily explain myself after being + taken to jail. They looked for you on a complaint of M. de la Gueritude. I + conceived a most horrible idea of your disorders. But having been informed + by letter that it was a question only of some peccadillo I had no other + thought but to see you again. Many a time I consulted the landlord of the + <i>Little Bacchus</i> on the means to hush up your affair. He always + replied: ‘Master Leonard, go to the judge with a big bag full of crown + pieces and he will give you back your lad as white as snow.’ But crown + pieces are scarce with us, and there is neither hen nor goose nor duck who + lays golden eggs in my house. At present I hardly get sufficient by my + poultry to pay the expenses of the roasting. By good luck, your saintly + and worthy mother had the good idea of going to the mother of M. + d’Anquetil whom we knew to be busy in favour of her son, who was sought + after at the same time as you were, and for the identical affair. I am + quite aware, my Jacquot, that you played the man about town in company + with a nobleman, and my head is too well placed not to feel the honour + which it reflects on our whole family. Mother dressed as if she intended + to go to mass; and Madame d’Anquetil received her with kindness. Thy + mother, Jacquot, is a holy woman, but she has not the best of society + manners, and at first she talked without aim or reason. She said: ‘Madame, + at our age, besides God Almighty nothing remains to us but our children.’ + That was not the right thing to say to that great lady who still has her + gallants.” + </p> + <p> + “Hold your tongue, Leonard,” exclaimed my mother. “The behaviour of Madame + d’Anquetil is unknown to you, and it appears that I spoke to her in the + right way, because she said to me: ‘Don’t be troubled, Madame Menetrier; I + will employ my influence in favour of your son; be sure of my zeal.’ And + you know, Leonard, that we received before the expiration of two months + the assurance that our Jacquot could return unmolested to Paris.” + </p> + <p> + We supped with a good appetite. My father asked me if was my intention to + re-enter the service of M. d’Asterac. I replied that after the lamented + death of my kind master I did not wish to encounter that cruel Mosaide in + the house of a nobleman who paid his servants with fine speeches and + nothing else. My father very kindly invited me to turn the spit as in + former days. + </p> + <p> + “Latterly, Jacquot,” he said, “I gave the place to Friar Ange, but he did + not do as well as Miraut or yourself. Don’t you want to take your old + place at the corner of the fireside?” + </p> + <p> + My mother, plain and simple as she was, did not want common-sense and + said: + </p> + <p> + “M. Blaizot, the bookseller of the <i>Image of Saint Catherine</i>, is in + want of an assistant. This employment, Jacquot, ought to suit you like a + glove. Thy dispositions are sweet, thy manners are good, and that’s what’s + wanted to sell Bibles.” + </p> + <p> + I went at once to M. Blaizot, who took me into his service. + </p> + <p> + My misfortunes had made me wise. I did not feel discouraged by the + humbleness of my employment, and I fulfilled my duties with exactitude, + handling the duster and broom to the satisfaction of my employer. + </p> + <p> + One of my duties was to pay a visit to M. d’Asterac. I went to the great + alchemist on the last Sunday of November, after the midday dinner. It’s a + long way from the Rue Saint Jacques to the Croix-des-Sablons, and the + almanac does not lie when it announces that in November the days are + short. “When I arrived at the Roule it was quite dark, and a black haze + covered the deserted road. And sorrowful were my thoughts in the darkness. + </p> + <p> + “Alas,” I said to myself, “it will soon be a full year since I first + walked on this road, in the snow, in company with my dear master, who now + rests in a small village in Burgundy encircled by vineyards. He sleeps in + the hope of eternal life. And it is but right to have the same hope as a + man as wise as he. God preserve me from ever doubting of the immortality + of the soul! But, one must confess to oneself, all that is connected with + a future existence and another world is of those verities in which one + believes without being moved and which have neither taste nor savour of + any kind, so that one swallows them without perceiving it. As for me I + find no consolation in the idea of meeting again the Abbe Coignard in + Paradise. Surely I could not recognise him, and his speeches would not + contain the agreeableness which he derived from circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + Occupied with these reflections, I saw before me a fierce light covering + one-half of the sky; the fog was reddened by it, and the light palpitated + in the centre. A heavy smoke mixed with the vapours of the air. I at once + became afraid that the fire had broken out at the d’Asterac castle. I + quickened my steps, and very soon ascertained that my fears were but too + well founded. I discovered the calvary of the Sablons, an opaque black on + a background of flame, and I saw nearly all the windows of the castle + flaring as for a sinister feast. The little green door was broken in. + Shadows gesticulated in the park and murmured the horror they felt. They + were the inhabitants of the borough of Neuilly, who had come for + curiosity’s sake and to bring help. Some threw water from a fire engine on + the burning edifice, making a fiery rain of sparks arise. A thick volume + of smoke rose over the castle. A shower of sparks and of cinders fell + round me, and I soon became aware that my garments and my hands were + blackened. With much mortification I thought that all that burning dust in + the air was the end of so many fine books and precious manuscripts, which + were the joy of my dear master, the remains, perhaps, of Zosimus the + Panopolitan, on which we had worked together during the noblest hours of + my life. + </p> + <p> + I had seen the Abbe Jerome Coignard die. Now, it was his soul, his + sparkling and sweet soul, which I fancied reduced to ashes together with + the queen of libraries. The wind strengthened the fire and the flames + roared like voracious beasts. + </p> + <p> + Questioning a man of Neuilly still blacker than myself, and wearing only + his vest, I asked him if M. d’Asterac and his people had been saved. + </p> + <p> + “Nobody,” he said, “has left the castle except an old Jew, who was seen + running laden with packages in the direction of the swamps. He lived in + the keeper’s cottage on the river, and was hated for his origin and for + the crimes of which he was suspected. Children pursued him. And in running + away he fell into the Seine. He was fished out when dead, pressing on his + heart a cup and six golden plates. You can see him on the river bank in + his yellow gown. With his eyes open he is horrible.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” I replied, “his end is due to his crimes. But his death does not + give me back the best of masters whom he slew. Tell me again; has nobody + seen M. d’Asterac?” + </p> + <p> + At the very moment when I put the question I heard near me one of the + moving shadows cry out: + </p> + <p> + “Thereof is falling in!” + </p> + <p> + And now I recognised with unspeakable horror the great black form of M. + d’Asterac running along the gutters. The alchemist shouted with a sounding + voice: + </p> + <p> + “I rise on wings of flame up to the seat of life divine!” + </p> + <p> + So he said, and suddenly the roof fell in with a tremendous crash, and the + flames as high as mountains enveloped the friend of the Salamanders. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV + </h2> + <p> + I become a Bookseller—I have many learned and witty Customers but + none to equal the Abbe Jerome Coignard, D. D., M. A. + </p> + <p> + There is no love will stand separation. The memory of Jahel, smarting at + first, was smoothed down little by little, and nothing remained but a + vague irritation, of which she was no longer the only object. + </p> + <p> + M. Blaizot aged quickly. He retired to Montrouge, to his cottage in the + fields, and sold me his shop against a life annuity. Having become in his + place the sworn bookseller of the <i>Image of Saint Catherine</i>, I took + with me my father and mother, whose cookshop flourished no more. I liked + my humble shop and took care to trim it up. I nailed on the doors some old + Venetian maps and some theses ornamented with allegorical engravings, + which made a decoration old and odd no doubt, but pleasant to friends of + good learning. My knowledge, taking care to hide it cleverly, was not + detrimental to my trade. It would have been worse had I been a publisher + like Marc-Michel Rey, and obliged like him to gain my living at the + expense of the stupidity of the public. + </p> + <p> + I keep in stock, as they say, the classical authors, and that is a + merchandise in demand in that learned Rue Saint Jacques of which it would + please me one day to write an account of its antiquities and celebrities. + The first Parisian printer established his venerable presses there. The + Cramoisys, whom Guy Patin calls the kings of the Rue Saint Jacques, + published there the works of our historians. Before the erection of the + College of France, the king’s readers, Pierre Danes, Francois Votable, + Ramus, gave their lectures there in a shed which echoed with the quarrels + between the street porters and the washerwomen. And how can we forget Jean + de Meung, who composed in one of the little houses of this street the <i>Roman + de la Rose</i>? [Footnote: Jacques Tournebroche did not know that Francois + Villon also dwelt in the Rue Saint Jacques, at the Cloister Saint Benoit, + in a house called the <i>Porte Verte</i>. The pupil of M. Jerome Coignard + would no doubt have had great pleasure in recalling the memory of that + ancient poet, who, like himself, had known various sorts of people.] + </p> + <p> + I have the whole house at my disposal: it is very old, and dates at least + from the time of the Goths, as may be seen by the wooden joists crossed on + the narrow front and by the mossy tiles. It has but one window on each + floor. The one on the first floor is all the year round garnished with + flowers, strings are attached, and all sorts of climbers run up them in + springtime. My good old mother takes care of this. + </p> + <p> + It is the window of her room. She can be seen from the street, reading her + prayers in a book printed in big letters over the image of Saint + Catherine. Age, devotion and maternal pride have given her a grand air, + and to see her wax-coloured face under her high white cap one could take + his oath on her being a wealthy citizen’s wife. + </p> + <p> + My father, in getting old, also acquired some dignity. As he likes + exercise and fresh air I employ him to carry books about town. First I + employed Friar Ange, but he begged of my customers, made them kiss relics, + stole their wine, caressed their servant girls, and left one-half of my + books in the gutters. I soon gave him the sack. But my good mother, whom + he makes believe that he is possessed of secrets for gaining heaven, gives + him soup and wine. He is not a bad man, and in the end I became somewhat + attached to him. + </p> + <p> + Several learned men and some wits frequent my shop And it is a great + advantage to my trade to be in daily contact with men of merit. Among + those who often come to look at new books and converse familiarly among + themselves there are historians as learned as Tillemont, sacred orators + the equals of Bossuet and Bourdaloue in eloquence, comic and tragic poets, + theologians who unite purity of morals with solidity of doctrine, the + esteemed authors of “Spanish” novels, geometers and philosophers capable, + like M. Descartes, of measuring and weighing the universe. I admire them, + I enjoy the least of their words. But not one, to my thinking, is equal in + genius to my dear master, whom I had the misfortune to lose on the road to + Lyons; not one reminds me of that incomparable elegance of thought, that + sweet sublimity, that astonishing wealth of a soul always expanding and + flowering, like the urns of rivers represented in marble in gardens; not + one gives me that never-failing spring of science and of morals, wherein I + had the happiness to quench the thirst of my youth, none give me more than + a shadow of that grace, that wisdom, that strength of thought which shone + in M. Jérôme Coignard. I hold him to be the most amiable spirit who has + ever flourished on the earth. + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Queen Pedauque, by Anatole France + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE QUEEN PEDAUQUE *** + +***** This file should be named 6571-h.htm or 6571-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/6/5/7/6571/ + +Text files produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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