ANATOLE FRANCE 
 
 AT THE SIGN OF THE 
 RE1NE PEDAUQUE
 
 AT THE SIGN OF THE 
 REINE PEDAUQUE
 
 TH T>EFINITIV 
 
 AT THE SIGN 
 
 of the 
 REINE PEDAUQUE 
 
 <BY 
 
 DODD-MEAD 6? COMPANY
 
 Published in U. S. A.. 1922, 
 
 by 
 DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, INC 
 
 PRINTED IN U. S. A,
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 INTRODUCTION vii 
 
 PREFACE i 
 
 CHAPTER I 4 
 
 II 15 
 
 III 21 
 
 IV 26 
 V 44 
 
 VI 53 
 
 VII 60 
 
 " VIII 66 
 
 IX 7i 
 
 X 79 
 
 XI 87 
 
 " XII 92 
 
 " XIII 106 
 
 XIV no 
 
 XV 127 
 
 XVI 134 
 
 " XVII 165 
 
 " XVIII 188 
 
 XIX 247 
 
 XX 255 
 
 XXI 259 
 
 " XXII 263 
 
 " XXIII 266 
 
 " XXIV 272 
 
 2032318
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 | HE novel of which the following 
 pages are a translation was pub- 
 lished in 1893, the author's forty- 
 ninth year, and comes more or less 
 midway in the chronological list of 
 his works. It thus marks the flood 
 tide of his genius, when his imagina- 
 tive power at its brightest came into conjunction 
 with the full ripeness of his scholarship. It is, per- 
 haps, the most characteristic example of that elu- 
 sive point of view which makes for the magic of 
 Anatole France. No writer is more personal. 
 No writer views human affairs from a more imper- 
 sonal standpoint. He hovers over the world like 
 a disembodied spirit, wise with the learning of all 
 times and with the knowledge of all hearts that 
 have beaten, yet not so serene and unfleshly as not 
 to have preserved a certain tricksiness, a capacity 
 for puckish laughter which echoes through his pages 
 and haunts the ear when the covers of the book are 
 closed. At the same time he appears unmistakably 
 before you, in human guise, speaking to you face to 
 face, in human tones. He will present tragic hap- 
 penings consequent on the little follies, meannesses 
 and passions of mankind with an emotionlessness 
 which would be called delicate cruelty were the 
 view point that of one of the sons of earth, but 
 ceases to be so when the presenting hands are calm 
 and immortal; and yet shining through all is the
 
 viii INTRODUCTION 
 
 man himself, loving and merciful, tender and warm. 
 
 The secret of this paradox lies in the dual tem- 
 perament of the artist and the philosopher. One 
 is ever amused by the riddle of life, dallies with it 
 in his study, and seeks solutions scholarwise in the 
 world of the past, knowing full well that all endeav- 
 ours to pierce the veil are vanity, and that meas- 
 ured by the cosmic scale the frying of a St. Law- 
 rence and the chilblain on a child's foot are equally 
 insignificant occurrences. The other penetrated by 
 the beauty and interest of the world is impelled by 
 psychological law to transmit through the prism of 
 his own individuality his impressions, his rare sense 
 of relative values, his passionate conviction of 
 the reality and importance of things. The result of 
 the dual temperament is entertaining. What the 
 artist, after infinite travail, has created, the easy 
 philosopher laughs at. What the artist has set up 
 as God, the philosopher flouts as Baal. In most 
 men similarly endowed there has been conflict be- 
 tween the twin souls which has generally ended in 
 the strangling of the artist; but in the case of Ana- 
 tole France they have worked together in bewild- 
 ering harmony. The philosopher has been mild, 
 the artist unresentful. In amity therefore they 
 have proclaimed their faith and their unfaith, their 
 aspirations and their negations, their earnestness 
 and their mockery. And since they must proclaim 
 them in one single voice, the natural consequence, 
 the resultant as it were of the two forces, has been 
 a style in which beauty and irony are so subtly in- 
 terfused as to make it perhaps the most alluring 
 mode of expression in contemporary literature. 
 
 The personal note in Anatole France's novels is 
 never more surely felt than when he himself, in
 
 INTRODUCTION ix 
 
 some disguise, is either the protagonist or the rai- 
 sonneur of the drama. It is the personality of 
 Monsieur Bergeret that sheds its sunset kindness 
 over the sordid phases of French political and so- 
 cial life presented in the famous series. It is the 
 charm of Sylvestre Bonnard that makes an idyll of 
 the story of his crime. It is Doctor Trublet in 
 Histoire Comlque who gives humanity to the* fan- 
 tastic adventure. It is Maitre Jerome Coignard 
 whom we love unreservedly in La Rotisserie de la 
 Reine Pedauque. And saving the respect due to 
 Anatole France, Monsieur Bergeret, Sylvestre Bon- 
 nard, Doctor Trublet and Maitre Jerome Coignard 
 are but protean manifestations of one and the same 
 person. Of them all we cannot but love most Mai- 
 tre Jerome Coignard. And the reason is plain. 
 He is the only scapegrace of the lot. Even were 
 he a layman we should call him a pretty scoundrel; 
 but, priest that he is, we have no words wherein to 
 summarise the measure of his fall from grace. He 
 drinks, he brawls, he cheats at cards; he cannot 
 pass a pretty girl on the stairs but his arm slips 
 round her waist; to follow in Pandarus's foot-steps 
 causes him no compunction; he "borrows" half a 
 dozen bottles of wine from an inn, and runs away 
 with his employer's diamonds. At first sight he 
 appears to be an unconscionable villain. But en- 
 dow him with the inexhaustible learning, the phil- 
 osophy, the mansuetude, the wit of Monsieur Ber- 
 geret, imagine him a Sylvestre Bonnard qualified 
 for the personal entourage of Pantagruel, and you 
 have a totally different conception of his character. 
 He becomes for you the bon Maitre of Tourne- 
 broche, his pupil, a personage cast in heroic mould 
 who, at all events, drank in life with great lungs and
 
 x INTRODUCTION 
 
 died like a man and a Christian. Now there dwells 
 in the heart of the mildest scholar a little demon of 
 unrest whom academies may imprison but cannot 
 kill. It is he who cries out for redemption from 
 virtue and proclaims the glories of the sinful 
 life. He whispers of course mendaciously, for 
 demons and truth are known to be sworn enemies 
 that there is mighty fine living in the world of toss- 
 pots and trulls and rufflers, and having insidiously 
 changed the good man's pen into a rapier, and his 
 ink-pot into a quart measure, leads him forth on 
 strange literary adventures. 
 
 On such an adventure has the scholar (at the 
 same time mocking philospher and exquisite artist) 
 gone in the Rotisserie de la Reine Pedauque. He 
 has gone in all lustiness, in a spaciousness of enjoy- 
 ment granted only to the great imaginers, and 
 vested in Maitre Coignard's wine-stained cassock 
 he comes to you with all the irresistible charm of 
 his personality. 
 
 WILLIAM J. LOCKE.
 
 AT THE SIGN OF THE 
 REINE PEDAUQUE* 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 T is my design to recount the singular 
 chances of my life. Some of them 
 have been strange and some beauti- 
 ful. In bringing them to memory it 
 is doubtful even to me whether I 
 have not dreamt them. I once knew 
 a Gascon cabalist, whom I cannot 
 call wise for he perished very unhappily, who, how- 
 ever, one night, in the Isle of Swans, entranced me 
 with his sublime discourse which I have been fortu- 
 nate enough to keep in mind and careful to put in 
 writing. His discourses treated of magic and the 
 occult sciences which run so much in peoples' 
 heads to-day. One hears of nothing but the Rosy- 
 Cross, f For the matter of that I do not flatter 
 myself that I shall gain much honour by these rev- 
 elations. Some will say that I have invented it all, 
 and that it is not the true doctrine; others, that I 
 have only told what every one knew before. I al- 
 low that I am not very well grounded in the cabala, 
 my master having perished at the beginning of my 
 
 *The original M.S. in a fine handwriting of the eighteenth 
 century bore as sub-title: "The Life and Opinions of Abbe 
 Jerome Coignard." [A. France.] 
 
 t This was written during the latter half of the eighteenth 
 century. [A. France.]
 
 2 PREFACE 
 
 initiation. But the little that I did learn of his art 
 made me very strongly suspect that it is all illusion, 
 fraud, and vanity. Besides, it is enough for me to 
 know that magic is contrary to religion for me to 
 reject it with my whole heart. Nevertheless I 
 think I ought to make myself clear on one point of 
 his false science in order that I may not be thought 
 more ignorant than I am. I know that cabalists 
 in general think that sylphs, salamanders, elves, 
 gnomes, and gnomides, are born with a soul as per- 
 ishable as their bodies, and that they acquire im- 
 mortality by commerce with the magi.* My caba- 
 list taught me, on the contrary, that eternal life was 
 the birthright of no creature, whether terrestrial 
 or aerial. I have followed his opinion without pre- 
 tending to judge of it. 
 
 He was in the habit of saying that elves kill those 
 who reveal their mysteries, and he attributed to the 
 vengeance of these sprites the death of Monsieur 
 1'Abbe Coignard, who was assassinated on the 
 Lyons Road. But I well knew that his death, ever 
 to be deplored, had a more natural cause. I shall 
 speak freely of the genii of water and fire. One 
 must needs run divers risks in life, and that from 
 the sprites is small in the extreme. 
 
 I have jealously garnered the sayings of my 
 good master, Monsieur 1'Abbe Jerome Coignard, 
 who perished as I have just said. 'Twas a man 
 full of wisdom and piety. Had he known more 
 
 This opinion is notably sustained in a small book by Abbe 
 Montfaucon de Villars, "The Comte de Gabalis, or Conversations 
 on the Secret and Mysterious Sciences following the Principles of 
 the Ancient Magi or Cabalistic Sages." There are several edi- 
 tions. I will content myself with citing one: (that published at 
 Amsterdam by Jacques le Jeune, 1700, in 18 mo. illustrated) which 
 contains a second part which is not in the original edition. [A. 
 France.]
 
 PREFACE 3 
 
 peace of soul he might have equalled Monsieur 
 1'Abbe Rollin * in virtue as he far surpassed him 
 in range of knowledge and depth of understanding. 
 At least he had in the turmoil of a troubled life 
 the advantage over Monsieur Rollin in that he did 
 not fall into Jansenism. For the strength of his 
 intelligence remained unshaken by any violence of 
 rash doctrines, and I can bear witness before God 
 to the purity of his faith. He had a great knowl- 
 edge of the world, acquired by frequenting every- 
 kind of company. This experience would have 
 served him well in the history of Rome, which he 
 would doubtless have composed after the style 
 of Monsieur Rollin, had not time and leisure 
 failed him, and if his way of life had better assorted 
 with his genius. What I can relate of so excellent 
 a man will be an ornament to my memoirs. Like 
 Aulus Gellius who gives the finest passage of the 
 philosophers in his Attic Nights, like Apuleius who 
 puts in his Golden Ass the best fables of the Greeks, 
 I undertake a bee-like industry and hope to gather 
 the most exquisite honey. Nevertheless I cannot 
 flatter myself to the point of thinking that I can 
 emulate these two great authors, since it is only 
 from the souvenirs of my own life and not from 
 wide and varied reading that I draw all my riches. 
 What I supply of my own material is my good 
 faith. If ever any one is curious enough to read 
 my memoirs he will recognise that only a simple 
 soul could express itself in language so simple 
 and coherent. I was always thought simple-minded 
 in every company I have mixed in, and this work 
 can but perpetuate this opinion after my death. 
 
 * Rollin, Charles. Abbi, Jansenist, historian, 1661-1741.
 
 Y name is Elme-Laurent-Jacques 
 Menetrier. My father, Leonard 
 Menetrier, kept a cook-shop in the 
 Rue Saint-Jacques at the sign of the 
 Reine Pedauque, whose feet, as one 
 ____ _ b ___ knows, were webbed after the fash- 
 ion of ducks and geese. 
 
 His gables rose over against Saint*Benoit-le-Be- 
 tourne, between Madame Gilles the draper at the 
 sign of the Trois Pucelles, and Monsieur Blaizot the 
 bookseller at the sign of the Image of Saint Cather- 
 ine, and not far from the Petit Bacchus, whose rail- 
 ing, decorated with vine-branches, formed the corner 
 of the Rue des Cordiers. He was very fond of me, 
 and when I lay in my little bed after supper he would 
 take my hand in his, and raising my fingers one after 
 the other, beginning with the thumb, would say: 
 
 "This one killed it, this one plucked it, this one 
 fried it, and this one ate it. And here's little Riqui- 
 qui, who gets nothing at all." 
 
 "Sauce, sauce, sauce," he would add, tickling the 
 palm of my hand with the tip of my little finger. 
 
 And he laughed loudly. I laughed also till I fell 
 asleep, and my mother vowed that the smile was still 
 on my lips next morning. 
 
 My father was a good cook and feared God. 
 That is why on feast-days he carried the banner of 
 the cooks whereon was embroidered a beautiful St. 
 Laurence with his gridiron and his golden palm. 
 My father used to say to me : 
 4
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 5 
 
 "Jacquot, your mother is a saintly and worthy 
 woman." 
 
 It was a speech he was fond of repeating. And 
 in truth my mother went to church every Sunday 
 carrying a book printed in large letters. For she 
 could not read small print well, saying it dragged 
 the eyes out of her head. My father passed an hour 
 or two every evening at the inn, the Petit Bacchus, 
 where Jeannette the viol player, and Catherine the 
 lace-maker would also repair. And whenever he 
 returned a little later than usual he would say in a 
 softened voice as he donned his cotton night-cap, 
 "Barbe, sleep in peace. As I told the lame cutler 
 but a moment ago, you are a saintly and worthy 
 woman." 
 
 I was six years of age when one day, readjusting 
 his apron, always a sign in him of having come to a 
 resolution, he spoke to me as follows : 
 
 "Miraut, our faithful dog, has turned my spit for 
 fourteen years. I have nothing to say against him. 
 He is a good servant who has never robbed me of 
 the smallest morsel of turkey or goose, happy if, 
 as reward for his work, he was allowed to lick the 
 jack. But he is growing old. His paws are stiffen- 
 ing, he no longer sees, and he is of no use for turn- 
 ing the wheel. Jacquot, it is for you, my son, to 
 take his place. With care and a little practice you 
 will succeed as well as he." 
 
 Miraut heard these words and wagged his tail in 
 sign of approval. 
 
 My father continued. 
 
 "Very well then, seated on this stool you will turn 
 the spit. Nevertheless, so as to form your mind 
 you can go over your catechism, and when, in con- 
 sequence, you are able to read all the printed letters
 
 6 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 you can learn by heart some book of grammar, or 
 instruction, or yet again the admirable teachings of 
 the Old and New Testament. For knowledge of 
 God and of the distinction between good and evil, 
 are necessary even in the practice of a routine such 
 as mine, a condition of little standing, no doubt, but 
 honest, and after all that of my father, and yet one 
 day thine, please God." 
 
 From that day forward, seated from morning till 
 evening in the chimney corner, I turned the spit, 
 my catechism open on my knees. A good capuchin, 
 who came bag in hand to beg of my father, helped 
 me with my spelling. He did it all the more will- 
 ingly for that my father, who respected knowledge, 
 paid him for his lessons with a good slice of turkey 
 and a big glass of wine, so that at length the little 
 brother, seeing that I could put together syllables 
 and words fairly well, brought me a beautiful life 
 of St. Marguerite wherein he taught me to read 
 with fluency. 
 
 One day, putting his wallet on the counter accord- 
 ing to custom, he came and sat down near me, and 
 warming his bare feet in the ashes on the hearth, he 
 made me repeat for the hundredth time : 
 
 Virgin wise and pure and fair 
 
 Help a mother's pains to bear 
 
 Have pity on us all. 
 
 At that moment a man, thick set but handsome, 
 clad in ecclesiastical garb, came into the kitchen and 
 cried in a big voice: 
 
 "Hello, mine host! Serve me with something 
 good." 
 
 Under his grey hair he looked in the prime of life
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 7 
 
 and strength. His mouth laughed, his eyes 
 sparkled. His rather heavy jowl and triple chin 
 sloped with majesty on to his clerical bands, be- 
 come, by sympathy no doubt, as greasy as the neck 
 that overhung them. My father, courteous by pro- 
 fession, doffed his cap and said as he bowed: 
 
 "If your Reverence will warm himself at my fire 
 I will serve him with what he requires." 
 
 Without any further pressing the Abbe took his 
 place before the fire beside the capuchin. 
 
 Hearing the good brother read: 
 
 Virgin wise and pure and fair, &c. 
 
 he clapped his hands and said: 
 
 "Oh, what a rare bird! What an uncommon 
 man! A capuchin who can read! What are you 
 called, little brother? 
 
 "Brother Ange, an unworthy capuchin," an- 
 swered my master. 
 
 My mother, who had heard voices from her 
 room above, came down into the shop, drawn by 
 curiosity. 
 
 The Abbe greeted her with a politeness that was 
 already friendly, and said: 
 
 "Here is something to be admired, Madame, 
 brother Ange is a capuchin, and he can read." 
 
 "He can read anything written," answered my 
 mother. 
 
 And approaching the brother she recognised the 
 hymn of St. Marguerite by the picture representing 
 the virgin-martyr, holy-water sprinkler in hand. 
 
 "This hymn is difficult to read," she added, "be- 
 cause the words are quite small and are scarcely 
 separated the one from the other. Happily, it
 
 8 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 suffices, when in pain, to apply it as a poultice to 
 the part that hurts the most, and it acts thus as well 
 and even better than when recited. I have put it to 
 the proof, Monsieur, at the birth of my son Jac- 
 quot, who is here present." 
 
 "Do not doubt it, my good Madame," said 
 brother Ange. "The hymn to St. Marguerite is 
 a sovereign remedy for what you say, on the ex- 
 press condition that alms be given to the capuchins." 
 
 With these words brother Ange emptied the gob- 
 let which my mother had filled to the brim for 
 him, threw his wallet over his shoulder, and went 
 off in the direction of the Petit Bacchus. My 
 father served the Abbe with a portion of chicken, 
 and he, drawing from his pocket a slice of bread, 
 a flask of wine, and a knife whose copper handle 
 represented the late king as a Roman emperor on an 
 antique column, began his supper. 
 
 But he had barely put the first morsel of food in 
 his mouth before he stopped and, turning to my 
 father, asked for salt, appearing surprised that he 
 had not been offered the salt-cellar before. 
 
 "It was customary," said he, "among the ancients 
 to offer salt as a sign of hospitality. Moreover, 
 they placed salt-cellars in the temples on the tables 
 of the gods." 
 
 My father handed him grey salt in the wooden 
 shoe which hung in the chimney corner. The Abbe 
 took what he wanted and said: 
 
 "The ancients looked upon salt as a necessary 
 seasoning for all meals, and they rated it so highly 
 that they gave the metaphorical name of salt to all 
 witticisms which add savour to conversation." 
 
 "Ah!" said my father, "however highly your
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 9 
 
 ancients may have held it, the salt tax of to-day puts 
 a still higher price upon it." 
 
 My mother, who listened as she knitted a woollen 
 stocking, was pleased to put in a word: 
 
 "One must believe salt is a good thing, for the 
 priest puts a grain of it on the tongues of infants 
 held at the baptismal font. When my Jacquot felt 
 the salt on his tongue he pulled a face, for small as 
 he was he was cunning. I am speaking, Monsieur 
 1'Abbe, of my son Jacques, here present." 
 
 The Abbe looked at me and said: 
 
 "He is a big boy now. Modesty is depicted on 
 his face, and he is reading the life of St. Marguerite 
 attentively." 
 
 "Oh!" continued my mother, "he can read the 
 prayer against chilblains and also the prayer of St. 
 Hubert, both of which brother Ange has given him, 
 and the history of him who was devoured in the 
 faubourg Saint Marcel by several devils for having 
 blasphemed the holy Name of God." 
 
 My father looked at me with admiration, then 
 whispered in the Abbe's ear that I learnt all I 
 wished with inborn and natural facility. 
 
 "Well, then, we must accustom him to good read- 
 ing," replied the Abbe, "which is the ornament of 
 man, a consolation in this life, and a remedy for all 
 ills, even those of love, as the poet Theocritus af- 
 firms." 
 
 "Cook though I am I venerate knowledge," said 
 my father, "and I am willing to believe that it is a 
 cure for love as your worship says. But I do not 
 think it is a cure for hunger." 
 
 "Perhaps it is not a universal panacea," answered 
 the Abbe, "but it brings some solace with it, after
 
 io AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 the manner of an exceeding sweet balm, imperfect 
 though it may be." 
 
 As he was thus talking, Catherine the lace-maker 
 appeared on the threshold, her cap over one ear, 
 her fichu tumbled. At the sight of her my mother 
 frowned and dropped three stitches of her knitting. 
 
 "Monsieur Menetrier," said Catherine, "come 
 and speak to the officers of the watch. If you don't 
 they will take brother Ange off to prison without 
 fault of his. The good brother came into the Petit 
 Bacchus a moment ago and drank two or three pots 
 of wine for which he did not pay, for fear, said 
 he, of wanting in respect to the rule of St. Francis. 
 But the worst part of the affair is that seeing me 
 in the arbour with friends, he came up to me to 
 teach me a new hymn. I told him it was not the 
 right moment, but as he became insistent the lame 
 cutler, who was close beside me, pulled him away 
 by the beard. Then brother Ange flung himself 
 on the cutler, who rolled on the ground pulling 
 over the table and the jugs with him. The inn- 
 keeper rushed up on hearing the noise, and seeing 
 the table overthrown, the wine spilt, and brother 
 Ange, one foot on the cutler's head, brandishing a 
 stool with which he hit all who came near him, this 
 wicked landlord swore like a fiend, and fled to call 
 the watch. .Monsieur Menetrier, come without de- 
 lay, come and rescue the little brother from the 
 hands of the officers ! He is a holy man and there 
 is excuse to be made for him in this matter." 
 
 My father was inclined to be obliging to Cather- 
 ine. Nevertheless this time the lace-maker's words 
 did not produce the effect she expected. He re- 
 plied sharply that he saw no excuse for the capuchin, 
 and that he hoped he would be well punished with
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE n 
 
 bread and water in the blackest dungeon-cell of the 
 convent whose shame and disgrace he seemed to be. 
 
 He became heated as he spoke : 
 
 "A drunkard and a debauchee to whom I give 
 good wine and good cheer daily, and who goes off 
 to the pot-house to wanton with trollops who are 
 abandoned enough to prefer the society of a peddling 
 cutler and a capuchin to that of honest trades- 
 men of the neighbourhood. Fie I" 
 
 He stopped short at this part of his invective and 
 looked stealthily at my mother, who, standing stiff 
 and straight by the staircase, was knitting with 
 short, sharp jerks of her needles. 
 
 Catherine, surprised at this bad reception, said 
 drily : 
 
 "So you won't speak a good word for him to the 
 innkeeper and the guard?" 
 
 "If you like I will tell them to take the cutler 
 with the capuchin." 
 
 "But," she said laughing, "the cutler is your 
 friend." 
 
 "More your friend than mine," said my father 
 irritably. "A beggar who tugs at a strap and 
 limps." 
 
 "Oh, as to that it is quite true that he limps, he 
 limps, he limps." And she left the cook-shop 
 bursting with laughter. 
 
 My father turned to the Abbe who was scraping 
 a bone with his knife, "As I have had the honour 
 to explain to your worship, every lesson in reading 
 and writing that this capuchin gives to my child I 
 have paid for in goblets of wine and succulent slices 
 of hare, rabbit, goose, nay even of woodcock and 
 capon. He is a drunkard and a debauchee." 
 
 "No doubt about that," replied the Abbe.
 
 12 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 "But if he dare put foot in my house again I will 
 drive him out with a broom-handle." 
 
 "That would be quite right," said the Abbe. 
 "This capuchin is a donkey, and he would teach 
 your son to bray rather than to talk. You will do 
 well to throw into the fire his life of St. Marguerite, 
 his prayer against chilblains, and the story of the 
 were-wolf with which the frowsy monk poisons the 
 child's mind. At the price brother Ange got for 
 his lessons I will give you mine. I will teach the 
 child Latin and Greek, French too, which Voiture * 
 and Balzac t have so perfected. Thus by a two- 
 fold good fortune, for it is both rare and beneficent, 
 Jacquot Tournebroche shall become learned, and I 
 shall have a meal every day." 
 
 "Done," said my faher, "Barbe, bring two gob- 
 lets. There is no business settled when the parties 
 have not touched glasses in sign of agreement. 
 We will drink here. I never want to set foot in the 
 Petit Bacchus again, the cutler and this monk have 
 filled me with such disgust." 
 
 The Abbe got up and placing his hands on the 
 back of his chair said slowly and gravely: 
 
 "Before all I thank God Creator and Preser- 
 ver of all good things for having led me to this 
 fostering household. It is He alone who guides us, 
 and we should acknowledge His providence in hu- 
 man affairs, though it may be rash and at times in- 
 congruous to obey it too blindly. For being univer- 
 sal His providence is to be encountered in all sorts 
 of cases, sublime assuredly, by reason of God's part 
 in them, but obscene or ridiculous for the part 
 played in them by men which is the only side they 
 
 * Voiture, Vincent. Academician, 1598-1648. 
 
 t Balzac, J. L. G. de. Writer and orator, 1594-1154,.
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 13 
 
 show us. So we must not, like monks and old 
 women, invoke the finger of God every time the cat 
 jumps. Praise God, and beseech Him to enlighten 
 me in the teaching which I shall give this child, 
 and, for the rest, let us recline ourselves on His 
 holy Will, without seeking to understand Him in 
 everything." 
 
 Then raising his glass he drank a great gulp of 
 wine. 
 
 "This wine induces a soft and salutary heat in 
 the workings of the human body," said he. "It is 
 a liquor worthy of celebration at Teos and in the 
 Temple by the princes of bacchic song, Anacreon 
 and Chaulieu.* It must touch the lips of my 
 youthful disciple." 
 
 He put the beaker to my chin and cried : 
 
 "Come, O bees of Academe, and light in har- 
 monious swarm on the lips, henceforth sacred to the 
 Muses, of Jacobus Tournebroche." 
 
 But my mother said, "O Monsieur 1'Abbe, it is 
 true that wine will draw bees, more particularly 
 when it is sweet wine. But you must not wish those 
 evil insects to light on the lips of my Jacquot, for 
 their sting is cruel. One day when biting into a 
 peach I was stung on the tongue by a bee, and I suf- 
 fered the torments of the damned. And nothing 
 eased me till brother Ange put in my mouth a pinch 
 of earth moistened with saliva while he repeated 
 the prayer to St. Cosmas." 
 
 The Abbe made her understand that he spoke of 
 bees in an allegorical sense. And my father said to 
 her in a tone of reproach: 
 
 "Barbe, you are a saintly and worthy woman, 
 
 * Chaulieu, Guillaume de. Abbe, poet, 16391720, surnamed 
 'TAnacreon du Temple."
 
 i 4 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 
 
 but I have often remarked that you have an annoy- 
 ing fondness for plunging headlong into serious 
 conversation, like a dog into a bowling-alley." 
 
 "May be," replied my mother, "but if you had 
 paid more attention to my advice, Leonard, you 
 would be better off. I can't be expected to know 
 all the different kinds of bees, but I know about the 
 conduct of a household, and what is due behaviour 
 in a man of certain age, who is father of a family, 
 and banner-bearer in his confraternity." 
 
 My father scratched his ear, and poured more 
 wine for the Abbe, who said, sighing: 
 
 "Certes, knowledge is no longer honoured in our 
 day, in the kingdom of France, as it was among the 
 Romans when, though fallen from their pristine 
 virtues, rhetoric raised Eugenius * to the purple. 
 It is no rare thing in our time to see an able man in 
 a garret without fire or light. Exemplum ut talpa. 
 I am an example." 
 
 He then gave us an account of his life, which I 
 will report to you as it came from his lips, saving 
 where in places my tender years hindered me from 
 understanding it plainly, and consequently from re- 
 taining it in my memory. And I believe that I 
 have been able to fill up such gaps from the con- 
 fidences he made me later, when he honoured me 
 with his friendship. 
 
 * Eugenius. Eugenius of Gaul. Rhetorician, proclaimed em- 
 peror A.D. 392.
 
 II 
 
 UCH as you see me," he said, "or, 
 to put it better, such as you do not 
 see me, young, lithe, bright-eyed 
 and black-haired, I taught the lib- 
 eral arts in the college of Beauvais 
 under Messieurs Dugue, Guerin, 
 Coffin,* and Baffier. I had taken 
 orders, and I thought to make myself a great repu- 
 tation in letters. But a woman overthrew my 
 hopes. She was one Nicole Pigoreau, and she kept 
 a bookshop at the sign of the Bible d'Or, on the 
 place in front of the college. I was in the habit 
 of going there, for ever turning over the books she 
 received from Holland, and also those bi-pontic t 
 editions furnished with notes, glosses, and learned 
 commentaries. I was a pleasing youth, and, to my 
 misfortune, Madame Pigoreau recognised it. She 
 had been pretty, and could still attract. Her eyes 
 could speak. One day Cicero and Titus Livius, 
 Plato, Aristotle, Thucydides, Polybius, Varro, Epic- 
 tetus, Seneca, Boethius, Cassiodorus, Homer, JEs- 
 chylus, Sophocles, Euripides, Plautus, Terence, Dio- 
 dorus Siculus,! Dionysius of Halicarnassus.|| St. 
 John Chrysostom, St. Basil, St. Jerome and St. Au- 
 
 * Coffin, Charles. He succeeded Rollin as principal of College 
 of Beauvais, 1676-1749. 
 
 t Viz., published at Zweibriicken. 
 
 ^Diodorus Siculus. Greek historian of Augustan age. 
 II Dionysius of Halicarnassus. Greek historian, b. 54 B. c. 
 15
 
 1 6 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 gustine, Erasmus, Salmasius, Turnebus,* Scaliger,f 
 St. Thomas Aquinas, St. Bonaventure, Bossuet with 
 Ferri | in his train, Lenain,|| Godefroy, Mezeray,H 
 Maimbourg,** Fabricius,tt Father Lelong,ti and 
 Father Pitou,l||| all the poets, all the orators, all the 
 historians, all the fathers, all the doctors, all the 
 theologians, all the humanists, all the compilers, 
 sitting assembled on the walls from ceiling to floor, 
 witnessed our embraces. 
 
 " 'You are irresistible/ she said. 'Do not think 
 too badly of me.' 
 
 "She avowed her love in raptures inconceivable. 
 One day she made me try on some bands and ruffles 
 of lace, and finding they suited me to perfection, she 
 begged me to keep them. I did not want to do so 
 at all. But as she seemed irritated at my refusal, 
 wherein she saw a slight to her love, I consented to 
 take what she offered me for fear of offending her. 
 
 "My happiness lasted until I was replaced by an 
 officer. I was filled with anger and spite, and hot 
 for vengeance, I made it known to the governors of 
 
 * Turnebus, Adrien Tournebe, known as Turnebus. Erudite 
 writer of the Renaissance, b. at Les Andelys, 1512-1565. 
 
 t Scaliger, Julius Caesar. Author of "De Arte Poetica," 
 1484-1558. 
 
 $ Ferri (or Ferry), Paul. Protestant theologian, b. Metz, 1591- 
 1669. 
 
 II Lenain, Pierre. Religious writer, b. Paris, 1640. 
 
 Godefroy, Denys. (Corpus Juris Civilis.) Lawyer, 1549- 
 1621. 
 
 IMezeray, Francois de. Historian, 1610-1683. 
 
 ** Maimbourg, Pere Louis. Jesuit historian, 1610-1686. 
 
 tt Fabricius, Johann Albrecht. Protestant theologian, 1668- 
 1736. 
 
 QLelong, Pere. Translator of a history of Tartary printed in 
 Paris 1529. 
 
 \\l\Pitou (or Pithou), Pierre. He participated in the "Satire 
 Menippee," a publication antagonistic to "The League," 1539- 
 1596.
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 17 
 
 the college that I no longer repaired to the Bible 
 d'Or lest I should see there sights likely to offend 
 the modesty of a young cleric. Truth to tell, I had 
 no need to congratulate myself on this trick. For 
 Madame Pigoreau, hearing of my behaviour in re- 
 gard to her, told every one that I had stolen from 
 her some lace bands and ruffles. Her false accusa- 
 tion came to the ears of the governors, who had my 
 box searched, and there they found the set, which 
 was sufficiently valuable. They turned me out, and 
 thus I learnt, after the fashion of Hippolytus * and 
 Bellerophon, t the wiles and wickedness of woman. 
 Finding myself in the street, with my clothes and 
 oratorical text-books, I ran great risk of dying of 
 hunger there when, abandoning my clerical collar, 
 I offered myself to a Huguenot gentleman, who 
 took me as secretary, and dictated to me his pam- 
 phlets against religion." 
 
 "Ah ! there you did wrong," cried my father. 
 "That was bad, Monsieur 1'Abbe! An honest man 
 should never lend a hand to such abominations. 
 And for my part, ignorant as I am, and a mere 
 workman, I cannot endure any taint of Colas's 
 cow." | 
 
 "You are right, mine host," replied the Abbe. 
 " 'Tis the worst passage in my life, and the one that 
 I repent the most. But my man was a Calvinist; 
 he only employed me to write against the Lutherans 
 
 * Hippolytus. Son of Theseus, falsely accused by his step- 
 mother, Phaedra. 
 
 t Bellerophon. Falsely accused at the court of Prcetus, King of 
 Argos, by the Queen, Antaea. 
 
 $ Colas's Co<w. "II est de la vache a Colas" signified "he is a 
 Huguenot." A strayed cow belonging to a peasant named Colas 
 was ill-treated by a Huguenot neighbour. From this absurd 
 squabble sprang popular riots and songs thereon.
 
 1 8 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 and the Socinians,* whom he could not endure; and 
 I assure you that he made me treat these heretics 
 more hardly than the Sorbonne has ever done." 
 
 "Amen!" said my father. "Lambs feed in 
 peace while the wolves devour one another." 
 
 The Abbe continued his recital: 
 
 "For the matter of that I did not remain long 
 with that gentleman, who set more store on the 
 letters of Ulrich von Hutten t than on the orations 
 of Demosthenes, and in whose house one drank but 
 water. After that I tried various trades, none of 
 which succeeded with me. I was successively ped- 
 lar, comedian, monk, and varlet. Then, donning 
 my bands again, I became secretary to the bishop of 
 Seez, and edited the catalogue of precious MSS. 
 shut away in his library. The catalogue forms two 
 volumes, in folio, which he has placed in his collec- 
 tion, gilt-edged, and bound in red morocco bearing 
 his arms. I venture to say it is a good piece of 
 work. 
 
 "It rested entirely with me whether I should 
 grow old in the service of Monseigneur in study and 
 in peace. But I loved a chambermaid in the stew- 
 ard's | household. Do not be too hard on me. 
 Dark-skinned, full of life, fresh and plump, St. 
 Pachomius himself must have loved her. One 
 day she took coach, and went to seek her fortune in 
 Paris. I followed her there, but I did not do as 
 well for myself as she did. On her recommenda- 
 tion I entered the service of Madame de St. Ernest, 
 
 * Socinians. The followers of Laelius Socinus (Lelio Sozzini), 
 a celebrated heresiarch, whose teaching was anti-trinitarian, 1525- 
 1562. 
 
 t Ulrich von Hutten. Reformer in Germany, 1488-1523. 
 
 $ Pachomius. Anchorite of the 4th century, the founder of the 
 Coenobites of Egypt. For a picture of their life see Thais by 
 Anatole France.
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 19 
 
 a dancer at the Opera, who, knowing my particular 
 talent, ordered me to write, under her prompting, 
 a lampoon against Mademoiselle Davilliers, against 
 whom she had a grudge. I was a good secretary, 
 and well did I merit the fifty ecus which had been 
 promised me. The book was printed at Amster- 
 dam by Marc-Michel Rey, with an allegorical fron- 
 tispiece, and Mademoiselle Davilliers received the 
 first copy at the very moment when she was going 
 on the stage to sing the principal air in Armide. 
 Rage made her voice hoarse and uncertain. She 
 sang out of tune, and was hissed. Her part played, 
 she ran in her powder and panniers to the stage- 
 manager, who could refuse her nothing. She flung 
 herself at his feet in tears, and cried for vengeance. 
 It was soon known that the stab came from Ma- 
 dame de St. Ernest. 
 
 "Questioned, pressed, menaced, she denounced 
 me, and I was thrown into the Bastille, where I lay 
 four years. I found some consolation in reading 
 Boethius and Cassiodorus. 
 
 "Since then I have kept a public writer's stall at 
 the cemetery of the Holy Innocents, and have put 
 at the disposal of amorous servant-girls a pen which 
 should rather paint the illustrious men of Rome, or 
 annotate the writings of the Fathers. 1 make two 
 Hards for a love-letter, and it is a trade by which I 
 die rather than live. But I do not forget that 
 Epictetus was a slave and Pyrrho a gardener. 
 
 "A moment ago, by great luck, I got an ecu for 
 an anonymous letter. It was two days since I had 
 eaten anything. So I promptly went in search of 
 an eating-house. I saw from the street your illumi- 
 nated sign, and the fire of your hearth, which flick- 
 ered joyously on the pane. I smelt a delicious
 
 20 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 
 
 odour on the threshold. I entered. My good host, 
 you know my life." 
 
 "I perceive it is that of an honest man," said 
 my father, "and excepting the matter of Colas's 
 cow, there is nothing much to take amiss. Your 
 hand. We are friends. What is your name?" 
 
 "Jerome Coignard, doctor of theology, and 
 bachelor of arts."
 
 Ill 
 
 HE wonderful thing in human affairs 
 is the linking together of effects and 
 causes. Monsieur Jerome Coignard 
 might well say so : when we come to 
 consider the strange succession of in- 
 cident and consequence wherein our 
 destinies clash, we are bound to rec- 
 ognise that God in His perfection is not wanting in 
 wit nor fancy, nor in the comic spirit, but, on the 
 contrary, that He excels in imbroglio as in all else, 
 and that after having inspired Moses, David, and 
 the Prophets, He had deigned to inspire Monsieur 
 Le Sage and the playwrights of the booth. He 
 could have dictated to them some very diverting 
 harlequinades. Thus, for instance, I became a 
 Latinist because brother Ange was taken by the 
 guard and put in the ecclesiastical prison for hav- 
 ing knocked down a cutler in the arbour of the Petit 
 Bacchus. Monsieur Jerome Coignard fulfilled his 
 promise. He gave me lessons, and finding me doc- 
 ile and intelligent, he took pleasure in teaching me 
 ancient literature. In a few years he made me 
 a fairly good Latinist. 
 
 I cherish his memory with a gratitude which will 
 only end with my life. The obligation he laid me 
 under may be conceived when I say that he left 
 nothing undone that might help to shape my affec- 
 tions and my soul along with my intelligence. He 
 would repeat to me the Maxims of Epictetus, the 
 Homilies of St. Basil, and Boethius, his consola-
 
 22 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 tions. He exhibited to me, in many a fine passage, 
 the philosophy of the Stoics; but he only displayed 
 it in its sublimity to abase it the lower before the 
 philosophy of the Christian. His faith remained 
 intact above the ruins of his fondest illusions and of 
 his most rightful hopes. His weaknesses, his mis- 
 takes, and his faults and he did not try to conceal 
 them nor to lend them colouring had not shaken 
 his trust in Divine goodness. And to understand 
 him well you must realise that he had care of his 
 eternal welfare on occasions when he seemed appar- 
 ently to care the least for it. He inculcated in me 
 principles of enlightened piety. He exerted him- 
 self to apprentice me to virtue to make it, so to 
 speak, homely and familiar to me by examples 
 drawn from the life of Zeno.* 
 
 That I might learn of the dangers of vice he 
 drew his arguments from a source nearer to hand, 
 confiding to me that, through having loved wine and 
 women over much, he had had to renounce the hon- 
 our of being raised to a collegiate chair, the long 
 robe, the doctor's cap. 
 
 To these exceptional merits he joined a constancy 
 and an assiduity, and he gave his lessons with a 
 punctuality that one would not have expected from 
 a man given up, as he was, to every caprice of a 
 wandering life, and driven about incessantly by the 
 stresses of an existence less dignified than pica- 
 resque. This zeal was the result of his kind-hearted- 
 ness, and emanated also from the liking he had for 
 our worthy street, the Rue St. Jacques, where he 
 found the wherewithal to satisfy at once the desires 
 of body and mind. Having given me some profit- 
 
 *Zeno. Founder of the Stoic philosophy, died B.C. 264.
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 23 
 
 able lesson while enjoying a succulent dinner, he 
 would go the round of the Petit Bacchus and of the 
 Image of St. Catherine, finding thus united in the 
 little corner of earth, which was his Paradise, good 
 wine and books. 
 
 He had become an assidous visitor of Monsieur 
 Blaizot the bookseller, who always welcomed him, 
 notwithstanding that he turned over all the books 
 without ever buying one. And it was a wonderful 
 sight to see my master at the back of the shop, his 
 nose poked into some little books new come from 
 Holland, raising his head to hold forth according 
 to the occasion with the same smiling and overflow- 
 ing knowledge, whether concerning the plans for 
 universal monarchy attributed to the late king, or 
 the amorous adventures of a financier and an ac- 
 tress. Monsieur Blaizot never tired of listening to 
 him. This .Monsieur Blaizot was a little dry old 
 man, neat in his person, in maroon coat and 
 breeches and grey worsted stockings. I admired 
 him immensely, and I could think of nothing more 
 delightful in the world than to sell books as he did 
 at the Image of St. Catherine. 
 
 A certain memory helped to indue Monsieur 
 Blaizot's shop for me with a mysterious charm. It 
 was there that when very young I saw, for the first 
 time, a woman unclothed. I see her still. It was 
 Eve, in a pictured Bible. She had a round stomach 
 and rather short legs, and she was conversing with 
 the serpent in a Dutch landscape. The possessor 
 of this print inspired me thenceforward with a con- 
 sideration which showed no falling off when, thanks 
 to Monsieur Coignard, I acquired the taste ftw 
 books.
 
 24 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 By the time I was sixteen I knew a good deal of 
 Latin and a little Greek. Said my good master to 
 my father: 
 
 "Do you not think, mine host, that it is improper 
 that a young Ciceronian should still wear the 
 clothes of a scullion?" 
 
 "I hadn't thought about it," answered my father. 
 
 "It is very true," said my mother, "our son 
 should have a dimity coat. He is pleasing in his 
 appearance, he has good manners, and is well 
 taught. He will do honour to his clothes." 
 
 My father remained thoughtful for a minute, 
 and then asked, would a dimity coat look well on 
 a cook? But Abbe Coignard represented to him 
 that, fostered by the Muses, I could never become 
 a cook, and that the time was near when I should 
 wear the clerical bands. 
 
 My father sighed when he thought that I should 
 never, when he had gone, carry the banner of the 
 Parisian Confraternity of Cooks. 
 
 And my mother's eyes ran over with pride and 
 joy at the thought of her son in the church. 
 
 The first effect of my dimity coat was to give me 
 self-confidence and to encourage me to get a more 
 exact notion of women than that given me once on 
 a time by Monsieur Blaizot's Eve. I thought, not 
 unreasonably for the purpose, of Jeannette the viol- 
 player, and Catherine the lace-maker, whom * saw 
 pass the cook-shop twenty times a day, showing in 
 wet weather a slim ankle and a little foot, whose 
 point skipped from paving-stone to stone. Jean- 
 nette was not as pretty as Catherine, neither was she 
 so young nor so smart in her attire. She was a 
 Savoyard, and dressed her head en marmotte with 
 a checked kerchief which hid her hair. But it must
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 25 
 
 be said for her that she put on no airs and graces, 
 and understood what was wanted of her even be- 
 fore one spoke. This quality suited my bashful- 
 ness down to the ground. One night in the porch 
 of St. Benoit-le-Betourne, which is furnished with 
 stone seats, she taught me what I did not know as 
 yet, and what she had known for long enough. 
 But I was not as grateful for it as I ought to have 
 been, and I only longed to bring to the service of 
 others who were prettier the knowledge she had in- 
 stilled into me. I must say, as an excuse for my in- 
 gratitude, that Jeannette the viol-player put no 
 greater price on her lessons than I myself had paid; 
 and she was prodigal of her favours to every scamp 
 in the neighbourhood. 
 
 Catherine had more reserve in her ways. I was 
 much afraid of her, and did not dare tell her how 
 pretty I thought her. What made me doubly shy 
 was that she made fun of me continually, and lost 
 no occasion to tease me. She made game of me on 
 account of my smooth chin. I blushed for it, and 
 wished the earth would cover me. I assumed a 
 dark and aggrieved air when I met her. I pre- 
 tended to despise her, but truth to tell, she was far 
 too pretty for any such despite.
 
 IV 
 
 HAT night, the night of the Epiph- 
 any and the nineteenth anniversary 
 of my birth, while the heavens shed 
 along with the melted snow a re- 
 lentless cold which pierced one to 
 the bone, and an icy wind set the 
 sign of the Reine Pedauque creak- 
 ing, a clear fire, scented with goose-fat, blazed in 
 the cook-shop, and the soup-bowl smoked on the 
 cloth round which were seated Monsieur Jerome 
 Coignard, my father and myself. My mother, as 
 her habit was, was standing behind the master of 
 the house, ready to serve. 
 
 He had already filled the Abbe's basin when, 
 the door opening, we saw brother Ange, very pale, 
 his nose red and his beard dripping. In his sur- 
 prise my father raised his soup-ladle nearly up to 
 the smoked beams of the ceiling. 
 
 My father's surprise was easily explained. 
 Brother Ange who once before had disappeared for 
 six months after knocking down the lame cutler, 
 had this time stayed away two whole years without 
 anything having been heard of him. He had gone 
 away one spring with a donkey laden with relics, 
 and the worst of the matter was that he had taken 
 Catherine along with him, dressed as a nun. It 
 was not known what had become of them, but there 
 had been rumours at the Petit Bacchus that the lit- 
 tle brother and the little sister had come in conflict 
 with the authorities between Tours and Orleans. 
 26
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 27 
 
 Without counting that one of the vicaires of St. 
 Benoit declared with much outcry that this gallows- 
 thief of a capuchin had stolen his donkey. 
 
 "What," exclaimed my father, "isn't this rascal 
 in the deepest of dungeons? Then there is no 
 longer justice in the kingdom." But brother Ange 
 repeated the Benedicite and made the sign of the 
 Cross over the bowl of soup. 
 
 "Hello there !" my father went on. "A truce 
 to your grimaces, my fine monk! And now confess 
 that you have spent in prison at least one of the two 
 years that haven't seen your Beelzebub's face in the 
 parish. The Rue St. Jacques was the honester for 
 it, and the whole quarter more respectable. Look 
 at him, the shameless fellow, who leads astray his 
 neighbour's donkey and every man's hack!" 
 
 "Perhaps," replied brother Ange, his eyes down- 
 cast and his hands in his sleeves, "perhaps, Maitre 
 Leonard, you wish to refer to Catherine, whom I 
 had the happiness to convert and to turn to a better 
 life. So much so that she ardently longed to fol- 
 low me along with the relics that I bore, and to ac- 
 company me on blessed pilgrimages to the Black 
 Virgin of Chartres? I agreed on condition that she 
 should don a religious habit. Which she did with- 
 out a murmur." 
 
 "Hold your tongue," said my father, "you are 
 a deboshed rogue. You have no respect for your 
 cloth. Go back whence you came, and go and look 
 if you like, out in the street, whether the Reine 
 Pedauque has any chilblains." 
 
 But my mother signed to the brother to sit down 
 in the chimney corner, which he quietly did. 
 
 "We must forgive much to capuchins, for they 
 sin without malice," said the Abbe.
 
 28 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 My father begged Monsieur Coignard to talk no 
 more of the brood, for their very name sent the 
 blood to his head. 
 
 "Maitre Leonard," said the Abbe, "philosophy 
 is conducive to clemency. For my part I freely ab- 
 solve ragamuffins, rogues and all wretched people. 
 And I bear no ill-will even to the wealthy, though 
 in their case there is much frowardness. And if 
 you had mixed as I have done with people of re- 
 pute, Maitre Leonard, you would know they are 
 worth no more than others, and that they are often 
 less agreeable to meet. When I was with the 
 bishop of Seez I sat at the third table, and two at- 
 tendants clad in black stood at my elbow: Con- 
 straint and Ennui." 
 
 "It must be owned," said my mother, "that Mon- 
 seigneur's valets bore tiresome names. Why didn't 
 they call them Champagne, Olive, or Frontin,* ac- 
 cording to custom?" 
 
 The Abbe continued: 
 
 "It is true that certain people easily accommo- 
 date themselves to the drawbacks of living among 
 the great. At the second table of the bishop of 
 Seez sat a certain Canon, a very polite man, who re- 
 mained on a formal footing until the day of his 
 death. Learning that he was extremely ill Mon- 
 seigneur went to see him in his extremity. 'Alas,' 
 said the Canon, 'I ask pardon of your lordship for 
 unavoidably dying in your presence.' 'Go on, go 
 on, do not mind me,' replied Monseigneur kindly." 
 
 At this moment my mother brought in the roast, 
 which she placed on the table with a gesture so im- 
 bued with homely gravity that my father was quite 
 
 * Frontin. A personage "de 1'ancienne comedie valet ef- 
 fronte."
 
 THE RHINE PEDAUQUE 29 
 
 moved, and cried out brusquely, his mouth full: 
 
 "Barbe, you are a saintly and worthy woman." 
 
 "Madame," said my good master, "is indeed 
 
 comparable to the virtuous woman of Holy Writ. 
 
 She is a spouse such as God loves." 
 
 "Thanks be to God," replied my mother, "I have 
 never failed in the fidelity I swore to my husband 
 Leonard Menetrier and now that the worst is over 
 assuredly I reckon on not failing in it until the hour 
 of my death. I only wish that he had been as 
 faithful to me as I to him." 
 
 "Madame, I knew at first sight that you were a 
 good woman," the Abbe ran on, "for I feel in your 
 presence a peace which is more of Heaven than 
 earth." 
 
 My mother, who was simple but not foolish, well 
 understood what he meant, and answered that had 
 he but known her twenty years before he would 
 have found her very different from what she had 
 become in this cook-shop where her good looks had 
 been lost under the fiery heat of the spit and the 
 steam from the smoking bowls. And now, being 
 roused, she related how the baker at Auneau found 
 her sufficiently to his taste to offer her cakes every 
 time she passed his bakehouse. She added, with 
 spirit, that for the matter of that there is neither 
 maid nor woman so ugly but that she can do wrong 
 if the fancy take her. 
 
 "The good woman is right," said my father; "I 
 remember when I was apprenticed at the cook-shop 
 of the Oie Royale, near the gate of St. Denis, my 
 master, who was in those days banner-bearer to the 
 confraternity, as I am now, saying to me : 'I shall 
 never be cuckold, my wife is too ugly.' This 
 speech gave me the notion of doing what he
 
 30 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 thought impossible. I succeeded at the first at- 
 tempt, one morning when he was at La Vallee. 
 He spoke truth: his wife was very plain, but not 
 without wit, and she was not without gratitude." 
 
 At this anecdote my mother lost her temper al- 
 together, saying that that was not the kind of talk 
 a father of a family should indulge in with his wife 
 and son should he wish to keep their respect. 
 Monsieur Jerome Coignard seeing her quite red 
 with anger, turned the conversation with adroit 
 kindliness, suddenly questioning brother Ange who, 
 his hands in his sleeves, was sitting humbly in the 
 kitchen corner: 
 
 "Little brother," said he, "what relics did you 
 and Catherine carry on the vicalre's donkey? It 
 was your breeches, wasn't it, you gave to the devo- 
 tees to kiss, like the Franciscan in the tale told by 
 Henry Estienne?" * 
 
 "Ah, Monsieur 1'Abbe," replied brother Ange 
 with the air of a martyr suffering for the truth, "it 
 was not my breeches but a foot of St. Eustatius." 
 
 "I would have sworn it, were swearing not a 
 sin," cried the Abbe waving a drumstick. "These 
 capuchins ferret you out saints that good writers of 
 church history know nothing of. Neither Tille- 
 mont t nor Fleury J mention this St. Eustatius, to 
 whom it was exceedingly wrong to dedicate a church 
 in Paris, when there are so many saints, acknowl- 
 edged by writers worthy of belief, who still await 
 such an honour. The life of this Eustatius is a tis- 
 sue of ridiculous fables. The same may be said of 
 that of St. Catherine, who never existed save in the 
 
 * Estienne, Henri. Lexicographer, 1531-1598. 
 
 t Tillemont, Le Nain de. Historian, b. Paris, 1637-1698. 
 
 ^.Fleury, Claude. Ecclesiastical historian, 1640-1723.
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 31 
 
 imagination of some malicious Byzantine monk. I 
 will not be too severe upon her though, for she is 
 the patron saint of writers and serves for a sign at 
 good Monsieur Blaizot's shop, which is the most 
 delectable spot in the world." 
 
 "I had also," went on the little brother imper- 
 turbably, "a rib of St. Mary of Egypt." 
 
 "Oh! oh! as to her," cried the Abbe, throwing 
 his bone across the room, "I rate her as a great 
 saint, for in her life she gave a beautiful example 
 of humility! You know, Madame," he answered, 
 pulling my mother by the sleeve, "that St. Mary of 
 Egypt making a pilgrimage to the tomb of our Sav- 
 iour was stopped by a deep river, and not having a 
 farthing wherewith to pay the ferry-boat, she of- 
 ferred her body in payment to the boatman. What 
 do you say to that, my good lady?" 
 
 My mother first asked whether the story was 
 really true. When she was assured that it was 
 printed in books and painted on a window in the 
 church of La Jussienne, she held it for true. "I 
 think," said she, "that one would needs be as great 
 a saint as she to do as much without sinning. As 
 for me, I would not risk it." "For my part," said 
 the Abbe, "in accordance with the more subtle theo- 
 logians, I approve the conduct of this saint. She is 
 a lesson to honest women who entrench themselves 
 too overweeningly in the height of their virtue. 
 There is a certain sensuality when one thinks about 
 it in putting such a very high price on the flesh, and 
 in guarding with such exceeding care what one 
 ought to disdain. One sees matrons who think 
 they have in themselves a treasure to protect, and 
 who visibly exaggerate the interest taken in their 
 person by God and the angels. They believe them-
 
 32 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 selves a sort of natural Blessed Sacrament. St. 
 Mary of Egypt knew better. Although pretty and 
 ravishingly well-made, she judged that there would 
 be too much pride of the flesh in stopping on her 
 blessed pilgrimage for a thing indifferent in itself, 
 and which, far from being a precious jewel, is but 
 an occasion for mortification. She suffered morti- 
 fication, Madame, and in this manner with admir- 
 able humility she entered on the path of penitence, 
 where she accomplished marvellous things." 
 
 "Monsieur 1'Abbe," said my mother, "I fail to 
 understand you. You are too learned for me." 
 
 "This great saint," said brother Ange, "is painted 
 life-size in my convent chapel, and all her body is 
 covered, by God's grace, with long, thick hair. 
 Copies of it are made, and I will bring you one 
 which has been blessed, my good lady." 
 
 My mother, touched, passed him the soup-bowl 
 behind the master's back. And the good brother 
 sitting over the ashes, dipped his beard in the sa- 
 voury-smelling soup. 
 
 "Now is the time," said my father, "to uncork 
 one of those bottles which I hold in reserve for 
 great feast-days such as Christmas, Twelfth Night, 
 and the feast of St. Lawrence; * nothing is more 
 pleasing than to drink good wine when one is 
 quietly at home, sheltered from all intruders." 
 
 He had scarcely pronounced these words when 
 the door opened and a big man invaded the cook- 
 shop in a squall of wind and snow. "A Salaman- 
 der! a Salamander!" he cried, and without taking 
 notice of any one, he leant over the hearth and 
 
 * Feast of St. Lawrence. L'eglise St. Laurent in Paris had a 
 popular fete, but the foire held against the church walls was 
 still more celebrated,
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 33 
 
 stirred the fire with his stick, to the great annoyance 
 of brother Ange who, swallowing cinders and smuts 
 in his soup, coughed till he nearly gave up the ghost. 
 And the big man stirred the fire again, crying 
 "A Salamander! I see a Salamander!" till the 
 troubled flame made his shadow waver on the ceil- 
 ing in the shape of some great bird of prey. 
 
 My father was surprised, nay even shocked, at 
 the ways of this visitor. But he knew how to con- 
 trol himself. He got up, his napkin under his arm, 
 and approaching the chimney-corner he bent over 
 the hearth, his hands on his hips. 
 
 When he had sufficiently considered his fire all 
 scattered and brother Ange covered with ash: 
 
 "If your lordship will pardon me," he said, "I 
 see but a sinful monk and no Salamander." 
 
 "And after all I do not regret it," my father 
 added. "For from all I have heard, it is an ugly 
 beast, hairy and horned and with great claws." 
 
 "What a mistake!" replied the dark man. "Sal- 
 amanders are like women, or rather, like Nymphs, 
 for they are of a perfect beauty. But it was silly 
 of me to ask if you could see this one. One must 
 be a philosopher to see a Salamander and I should 
 scarcely think that there are any philosophers in 
 this kitchen." 
 
 "Possibly you are mistaken," said Monsieur 
 1'Abbe Coignard. "I am a doctor of theology and 
 master of arts; I have studied to some extent the 
 Greek and Latin moralists, whose maxims have for- 
 tified my soul in the vicissitudes of my life, and par- 
 ticularly have I applied Boethius as a local applica- 
 tion for the evils of existence. And behold by my 
 side Jacobus Tournebroche, my pupil, who knows 
 by heart the Aphorisms of Publius Syrus."
 
 34 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 The unknown turned on the Abbe his yellow eyes, 
 which shone strangely over his eagle nose, and ex- 
 cused himself with more politeness than his fierce 
 looks gave promise of, not having immediately rec- 
 ognised a person of his merit. 
 
 "It is extremely probable," he added, "that this 
 Salamander has come for you or for your pupil. I 
 saw her very plainly from the street, when passing 
 the shop. She would have been more apparent if 
 the fire had been brighter. That is why one should 
 stir the fire vigorously when one thinks there is a 
 Salamander in the chimney." 
 
 At the first movement that the unknown made to 
 stir the coals, brother Ange, in his anxiety, covered 
 his soup with a corner of his robe and shut his eyes. 
 
 "Monsieur," pursued the Salamander-seeking 
 gentleman, "allow your pupil to approach the 
 hearth, and tell us if he cannot see some resem- 
 blance to a woman above the flames." 
 
 Just then, the smoke which went up under the 
 hood of the chimney curled into a marked grace, 
 making curves which might have been said to simu- 
 late a sinuous body had one's attention been on 
 the strain. I was not altogether fibbing therefore 
 when I said that I could, perhaps, see something. 
 
 I had scarcely said so when the unknown, raising 
 his abnormally long arm, struck me on the shoulder 
 so roughly with his fist that I thought he must have 
 broken my collar-bone. 
 
 Thereon, in a very gentle voice, he said, looking 
 in the meanwhile with a benevolent air: "My 
 child, it was necessary to make this strong impres- 
 sion on you that you may never forget that you 
 have seen a Salamander. 'Tis a sign that you are 
 destined to become a learned man, perhaps a Mage.
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 35 
 
 Your face, moreover, augurs well for your intelli- 
 gence," 
 
 "Monsieur," said my mother, "he has all the 
 learning that he wishes, and please God he will yet 
 be an Abbe." 
 
 Monsieur Jerome Coignard added that I had 
 drawn some profit from his lessons, and my father 
 asked the stranger if he would not have something 
 to eat. 
 
 "I have no need to eat," said the man, "and it 
 is easy for me to go for a year and even more with- 
 out food, with the exception of a certain elixir, 
 whose composition is known only to the philoso- 
 phers. This faculty is not peculiar to me. It is 
 common to all the elect, and we know that the illus- 
 trious Cardan abstained from all food for several 
 years without being inconvenienced. On the con- 
 trary, his mind gained during that time a rare 
 sharpness. At the same time I will eat of what 
 you may offer me solely to do you pleasure." 
 
 And he took a seat without ceremony at our ta- 
 ble. At the same time brother Ange silently 
 pushed a stool between my chair and my master's, 
 and slipped into position to receive his share of the 
 pasty of partridges that my mother had just served 
 up. 
 
 The philosopher, having thrown his cloak over 
 the back of his chair, allowed us to remark the dia- 
 mond buttons in his coat. He sat there dreamily. 
 The shadow of his nose shaded his mouth, and his 
 fallen cheeks sank into his jaw. His gloomy mood 
 affected us all. 
 
 My good master himself drank in silence. The 
 only sound one heard was the little brother chewing 
 his pasty.
 
 36 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 Suddenly the philosopher said: 
 
 "The more I think of it the more persuaded I 
 am that this Salamander came for this young man." 
 
 And he pointed at me with his knife. 
 
 "Monsieur," I answered him, "if Salamanders 
 are half such as you say, this one does me great 
 honour, and I am much obliged to her. But truth 
 to tell, I rather guessed at her than saw her, and 
 this first meeting has roused my curiosity without 
 satisfying it." 
 
 My good master was choking with the desire to 
 speak his mind. 
 
 "Monsieur," he burst out all at once to the phil- 
 osopher, "I am fifty-one years of age; I am bache- 
 lor of arts and doctor of theology; I have read all 
 the Greek and Latin authors who have survived the 
 injury done by time and the evil done by man, and 
 I have never seen a Salamander, whence I reason- 
 ably conclude that no such thing exists." 
 
 "Excuse me," said brother Ange, half-choked 
 with partridge and with fright. "Excuse me. But 
 unhappily Salamanders do exist. And a Jesuit fa- 
 ther, whose name I forget, has written a treatise on 
 these apparitions. I myself saw, in a place called 
 St. Claude, in the house of some villagers, a Sala- 
 mander in a chimney-corner, right up against the 
 stew-pot. She had a cat's head, a frog's body, and 
 a fish tail. I threw a potful of holy water over the 
 beast and she immediately vanished into thin air 
 with a fearful frizzling noise, and in the midst of 
 an exceedingly acrid smoke which all but burnt my 
 eyes out. And what I tell you is so true that for 
 at least a whole week my beard smelt of burning, 
 which proves more than all the rest the malign na- 
 ture of this beast."
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 37 
 
 "You are making fun of us, little brother," said 
 the Abbe, "your frog with a cat's head is no more 
 real than the nymph of this gentleman here. And 
 moreover, it is a disgusting invention." 
 
 The philosopher began to laugh. 
 
 Brother Ange had not been allowed, said he, to 
 see the Salamanders as known to the wise, "When 
 the nymphs of the fire see capuchins they turn their 
 backs on them." 
 
 "Oh! Oh!" said my father laughing loudly, "a 
 nymph's back is too good for a capuchin." 
 
 And as he was in a good temper he passed a huge 
 slice of pasty to the little brother. 
 
 My mother placed the roast in the middle of the 
 table and took the opportunity of asking whether 
 the Salamanders were good Christians, which she 
 much doubted, having never heard that those who 
 dwelt in fire praised the Lord. 
 
 "Madame," replied the Abbe, "many theologians 
 of the Society of Jesus have acknowledged the ex- 
 istence of a whole race of incubi and succubi, who 
 are not demons properly speaking because they do 
 not allow themselves to be put to rout by a sprin- 
 kling of holy water, and who do not belong to the 
 church triumphant, for spirits of glory would never 
 have tried to seduce a baker's wife, as happened at 
 Perouse. But if you want my opinion, these are 
 rather the unclean imaginings of a canting humbug 
 than the views of a divine. We should abhor these 
 ridiculous bedevilments and deplore that sons of the 
 Church, born in the light, should form a less sub- 
 lime idea of the world and of God than did a Plato 
 or a Cicero in the shades of paganism. God, I 
 venture to say, is more present in the Thoughts of 
 Scipio than in those dark treatises on demonology,
 
 38 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 whose authors pronounce themselves to be Chris- 
 tians and Catholics." 
 
 "Monsieur 1'Abbe, mind what you say," said the 
 philosopher. "Your Cicero spoke fluently and eas- 
 ily, but his was a commonplace mind, and he was 
 not far advanced in the sacred sciences. Have you 
 ever heard speak of Hermes Trismegistus * and 
 the Emerald Table ?"t 
 
 "Monsieur," said the Abbe, "I found a very an- 
 cient manuscript of 'The Emerald Table' in the li- 
 brary of my Lord Bishop of Seez, and I would have 
 deciphered it sooner or later had not the chamber- 
 maid in the steward's household fled to Paris to 
 seek her fortune and made me climb into the coach 
 with her. There was no sorcery in that, Master 
 philosopher, and the charms that worked upon her 
 were those of nature : 
 
 Non facit hoc verbis: facie tenertsque lacertis 
 Devovet et flavis nostra puella comis" 
 
 "It is one more proof," said the philosopher, 
 "that women are great enemies of knowledge, and 
 so the wise man should keep himself from all deal- 
 ings with them." 
 
 "Even in lawful marriage?" asked my father. 
 
 "Above all in lawful marriage," replied the phil- 
 osopher. 
 
 "Alas, what is left for your poor wise man when 
 he is disposed to relax a little?" asked my father. 
 
 The philosopher replied: 
 
 "The Salamanders are left to them." 
 
 * Hermes Trismegistus. Priest and philosopher of Egypt 
 instructed in theology, medicine, geography, hieroglyphics. 
 
 t Table a'Emeraude. The Tabula Smasagdina work of Her- 
 mes Trismegistus.
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 39 
 
 At these words brother Ange raised a terrified 
 nose above his plate. 
 
 "Do not speak thus, my good Monsieur," he 
 murmured, "in the name of all the saints of my or- 
 der, do not say such things! And do not lose 
 sight of the fact that a Salamander is no other than 
 the devil, who, as one knows, clothes himself in di- 
 vers forms, sometimes pleasing, when he succeeds 
 in disguising his natural ugliness, at other times hid- 
 eous, when he lets his true nature be seen." 
 
 "It is for you to mind what you say, brother 
 Ange," replied the philosopher, "and since you fear 
 the devil, do not anger him too much nor excite 
 him by ill-considered speeches. You know that the 
 Old Enemy, the Spirit that denies, still holds such 
 power in the spiritual world 'that even God must 
 reckon with him. I will go further: that God, 
 Who fears him, has made him His steward. Be- 
 ware, little brother, beware! They understand 
 one another!" 
 
 On hearing this speech, the poor capuchin 
 thought he heard and saw the devil in person, 
 whom the unknown precisely resembled, with his 
 fiery eyes, his hooked nose, his dark skin, and the 
 whole of his long thin person. 
 
 His wits, already confounded, were finally over- 
 whelmed by pious terror. Feeling himself in the 
 grip of the Evil One, he began to tremble in every 
 limb, slipped into his pocket all the good scraps he 
 could collect, got up very quietly and made for the 
 door, moving backwards, and murmuring exor- 
 cisms. 
 
 The philosopher took no notice of him. He 
 pulled from his coat a little dogs' eared parchment 
 covered book, which he held out open to my good
 
 40 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 master and me. It was an old Greek text, full of 
 abbreviations and linked letters, which at first sight 
 looked to me like a volume of Grammary. But 
 Monsieur 1'Abbe Coignard, once he had donned his 
 spectacles and held out the book at a just distance, 
 began to read easily, characters, more like skeins of 
 thread tangled by cat's claws, than the plain and 
 steady lettering of my St. John Chrysostom, where 
 I learnt the tongue of Plato and the Gospel. 
 When he had finished his reading: 
 
 "Monsieur," said he, "this passage is to be un- 
 derstood in this way: 
 
 " 'Among the Egyptians, the instructed learn first 
 of all the letters which are called epistolographic; 
 secondly, the hieratic, which the hierogrammats use, 
 and lastly, the hieroglyphic.' " 
 
 Then, pulling off his spectacles and waving them 
 with an air of triumph: 
 
 "Ha! ha! Master philosopher," he added, "you 
 don't catch me tripping. This is taken from the 
 first book of the Stromata, whose author, Clement 
 of Alexandria,* is not inscribed in the martyrology, 
 for divers reasons, learnedly set forth by His Holi- 
 ness Benedict II, the principal of which is that this 
 father frequently erred in matters of faith. This 
 exclusion should not trouble him much, if you con- 
 sider with what philosophic detachment he regarded 
 martyrdom during his life. He preferred exile, 
 and took care to spare the crime to his persecutors, 
 for he was a very good man. He wrote with ele- 
 gance, had a lively talent, his morals were unim- 
 
 * Clement of Alexandria. Doctor and saint, 3rd century.
 
 THE RHINE PEDAUQUE 41 
 
 peachable, and even austere. He had an excessive 
 fondness for allegories and for salads." 
 
 The philosopher stretched an arm, which elonga- 
 ting itself prodigiously, at least to me it seemed so, 
 crossed the whole length of the table, to recover 
 the book from the hands of my learned master. 
 
 "Enough," said he, replacing the Stromata in his 
 pocket. "I see that you understand Greek. You 
 have rendered the passage well enough, at any rate, 
 in its vulgar and literal sense. I will make your 
 fortune and that of your pupil. I shall employ you 
 both in my house in translating Greek texts sent to 
 me from Egypt." 
 
 And turning to my father : 
 
 "I imagine, mine host, that you will consent to 
 let me have your son that I may make a learned 
 man and a man of substance of him. If it is too 
 much to ask of your paternal affection to give him 
 up altogether, I will maintain at my expense a scul- 
 lion to take his place in your cook-shop." 
 
 "Since your Excellency thus arranges it," replied 
 my father, "I will not stand in the way of his bene- 
 fiting my son." 
 
 "On the condition," said my mother, "that it 
 shall not be at the cost of his soul? You must 
 promise me, Monsieur, that you are a good Chris- 
 tian?" 
 
 "Barbe," said my father, "you are a saintly and 
 worthy woman, but you force me to make excuses 
 to his lordship for your want of manners, which 
 comes less, truth to tell, from your disposition, 
 which is good enough, than from your neglected 
 education." 
 
 "Let the good woman speak," said the philoso-
 
 42 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 pher, "and let her make her mind easy, I am a very 
 religious man." 
 
 "That is a good thing," said my mother. "We 
 must worship the holy Name of God." 
 
 "I worship all His Names, my good woman, 
 for He has many. He is called Adonai, Tetra- 
 grammaton, Jehovah, Otheos, Athanatas, and Schy- 
 ros, and many others." 
 
 "I don'-t know anything about it," said my 
 mother, "but I am not surprised at what you tell 
 me, Monsieur, for I have noticed that people of 
 quality have many more names than common peo- 
 ple. I come from Auneau, near the town of Char- 
 tres, and I was quite small when the lord of the 
 manor passed from this world to the next; now I 
 well remember how when the herald cried the death 
 of the deceased lord he gave him nearly as many 
 names as are to be found in the litany of saints. I 
 readily believe that God has more names than had 
 my lord of Auneau, because He has a still higher 
 position. Educated people are very lucky to know 
 them all. And if you help my son Jacques to ad- 
 vance in this knowledge I shall be very much 
 obliged to you, Monsieur." 
 
 "Then that matter is settled," said the philoso- 
 pher. "And as to you, Monsieur 1'Abbe, you will 
 not be averse from translating from the Greek 
 in consideration of a salary, be it understood." 
 
 My good master, who for some moments past 
 had beeen trying to collect those few wits which 
 were not already hopelessly bemused with the fumes 
 of wine, filled his goblet, rose up, and said: 
 
 "Master philosopher, with my whole heart I ac- 
 cept your generous offer. You are a magnificent 
 being. I am honoured, Monsieur, to be in your
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 43 
 
 service. Of furniture, there are two pieces I hold 
 high in esteem, the bed and the board. The board, 
 which laden, turn by turn about, with learned books 
 and succulent dishes, serves to support the nourish- 
 ment of body and mind; the bed, propitious to the 
 sweets of repose as to the torments of love. It 
 was surely an inspired man who gave to the Sons 
 of Deucalion * the bed and the board. If I find at 
 your house, Monsieur, these two precious pieces of 
 furniture, I will sound your name, as that of my 
 benefactor, in eternal praise, and I will celebrate 
 you in Greek and Latin verse of divers metres." 
 
 Thus he spoke, and drank a great gulp of wine. 
 
 "That is well said," replied the philosopher. "I 
 shall expect you both to-morrow morning at my 
 house. You must follow the route to St. Germain 
 as far as the Cross of Les Sablons. From the foot 
 of this Cross reckon a hundred paces going west 
 and you will find a small green door in a garden 
 wall. Raise the knocker, which is in the shape of 
 a veiled figure, its finger on its lips. You must ask 
 the old man who opens the door for Monsieur 
 d'Astarac." 
 
 "My son," said my good master, pulling me by 
 the sleeve, "keep all this in your memory. Cross, 
 knocker, and all the rest, so that we may be able 
 to-morrow to find this gate of fortune. And you, 
 Monsieur Maecenas . . ." 
 
 But the philosopher had already disappeared 
 without any one having seen him go. 
 
 * Deucalion. Son of Prometheus. Deucalion and Pyrrha were 
 parents of the human race.
 
 HE next day we fared early, my mas- 
 ter and I, along the road to St. Ger- 
 main. The snow which covered the 
 ground under the reddish light from 
 the sky, made the atmosphere dead 
 and still. The road was deserted. 
 We walked in great cart-ruts be- 
 tween the walls of market-gardens, tumble-down 
 palings, and low houses whose windows watched us 
 with suspicious eye. Then, having left behind us 
 two or three broken-down hovels of wattle and 
 daub, we saw in the midst of a desolate common, the 
 Cross of Les Sablons. Fifty paces beyond was the 
 beginning of an immense park enclosed by a ruined 
 wall. This wall was pierced by a small green door 
 whose knocker was in the shape of a horrible 
 face, its finger on its lips. We readily recognised 
 it for that which the philosopher had described to 
 us, and lifted it and knocked. 
 
 After a considerable time, an old serving-man 
 came and let us in and signed to us to follow him 
 across a deserted park. Statues of nymphs, which 
 had witnessed the youth of the late king, hid under 
 the ivy their melancholy and their scars. At the 
 end of the alley whose ditches were masked with 
 snow, rose a mansion of brick and stone, which was 
 as gloomy as the chateau of Madrid, its neighbour, 
 and which topped by a roof of slate, all awry, 
 seemed the very castle of the Sleeping Beauty. 
 While we followed the steps of the uncommuni- 
 
 44
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 4 5 
 
 cative serving-man, the Abbe said in my ear: 
 "I confess to you, my son, that the dwelling does 
 not smile upon the view. It bears witness to the 
 rude condition of French manners still inveterate 
 at the time of Henry IV and it induces depression 
 and even melancholy in the mind by the state of neg- 
 lect into which it has been allowed to lapse. 
 How far sweeter would it be to mount the enchant- 
 ing slopes of Tusculum, in the hope of hearing 
 Cicero discourse on virtue under the pines and tere- 
 binths of his villa, dear to philosophers. And have 
 you not noticed, my son, that we did not pass a 
 single inn or hostelry of any sort on the road and 
 that it is necessary to cross the bridge and climb the 
 hill as far as the crossing of the avenues of Ber- 
 geres, to drink a glass of wine? It is true that 
 there is the inn at the sign of the Cheval Rouge 
 where I remember Madame de St. Ernest taking me 
 once to dine, along with her monkey and her lover. 
 You cannot imagine, Tournebroche, what good 
 cheer is to be had there. The Cheval Rouge is as 
 renowned for its lunches as for the number of its 
 horses and its posting facilities. I assured myself 
 of that while pursuing into the stables a certain ser- 
 ving-wench who seemed to me to be pretty. But 
 she was not so; one might more justly have called 
 her ugly. I lent her the illumination of my amor- 
 ous fancy. Such is the state of men given over to 
 themselves : piteous are their mistakes. We are 
 abused by vain images, we follow dreams, and we 
 embrace shadows. In God alone is truth and 
 steadfastness." 
 
 Meanwhile, following the old servant, we 
 climbed the disjointed steps of the old terrace. 
 "Alas," said the Abbe in my ear, "I begin to re-
 
 46 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 grct your good father's cook-shop, where we ate 
 many a choice morsel, expounding Quintilian the 
 while." 
 
 Having scaled the first flight of a large stone 
 staircase we were ushered into a room where Mon- 
 sieur d'Astarac was busy writing near a big fire, sur- 
 rounded by Egyptian coffins of human form, ranged 
 against the wall, their cases painted with sacred em- 
 blems, and their faces in gold, with long shining 
 eyes. 
 
 Monsieur d'Astarac invited us politely to sit 
 down, and said: 
 
 "Messieurs, I was expecting you, and since you 
 are both good enough to render me the favour of 
 your services I beg you to consider this house as 
 yours. You will be occupied here in translating 
 Greek texts which I have brought back from 
 Egypt. I have no doubt that you will put all 
 your zeal into the accomplishment of this labour, 
 when you learn that it concerns the work I have 
 undertaken, which is to rediscover the lost knowl- 
 edge whereby man shall be re-established in his 
 original authority over the elements. Though I 
 have no intention to-day of lifting from your eyes 
 the veil of nature and of showing you Isis in all her 
 dazzling nudity, I will confide to you the object of 
 my studies without fear that you should betray the 
 mystery, for I rely on your probity, and also on the 
 power that I have of divining and of preventing 
 anything that may be attempted against me, and of 
 disposing of terrible and secret forces to avenge 
 myself. In default of a fidelity which I do not 
 question, my powers, Messieurs, assure me of your 
 silence, and I risk nothing in exposing myself to 
 you. You must know that man came from the
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 47 
 
 hands of Jehovah perfect in the knowledge he has 
 since lost. At his birth he had great power and 
 great wisdom. One sees it in the book of Moses. 
 Yet it is needful to understand it. First of all, it 
 is clear that Jehovah is not God, but a mighty 
 Demon, for he created the world. The idea of a 
 God at one and the same time a creator and perfect 
 is but a barbarous fancy, a barbarism fit for a Celt 
 or a Saxon. One cannot admit, however little 
 one's intelligence may be formed, that a perfect be- 
 ing can add anything whatever to his perfection, 
 were it but a hazel-nut. That stands to reason. 
 God can have no conception. For, being infinite 
 what can He well conceive? He does not create, 
 for He is beyond time and space, conditions neces- 
 sary to any construction. Moses was too good a 
 philosopher to teach that the world was created by 
 God. He knew Jehovah for what he is in reality, 
 namely for a mighty Demon, and, to give him the 
 name, for a Demiurge. Now, when Jehovah cre- 
 ated man, he gave him the knowledge of the visible 
 and invisible worlds. The fall of Adam and Eve, 
 which I will one day explain to you, did not alto- 
 gether destroy this knowledge in the first man and 
 the first woman, whose enlightenment descended to 
 their children. These doctrines, on which lord- 
 ship over nature depends, were transcribed in the 
 book of Enoch. The Egyptian priests kept the tra- 
 dition, which they fixed in mysterious signs on the 
 walls of temples and on the coffins of the dead. 
 Moses, brought up in the sanctuary of Memphis, 
 was one of the initiated. His books, to the num- 
 ber of five or even six, enclose like so many precious 
 arks, the treasures of divine knowledge. One finds 
 in them the noblest of secrets, if after having
 
 48 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 purged them of unworthy interpolations one is care- 
 ful to disdain the gross and literal meaning, to fol- 
 low but the more subtle, which I have in great 
 measure penetrated to, as will be made plain to 
 you later on. However the truths whose virginity 
 was guarded in the temples of Egypt passed to the 
 sages of Alexandria, who added further to them, 
 and crowned them with all the pure gold left as a 
 legacy to Greece by Pythagoras and his disciples, 
 with whom the powers of air held familiar con- 
 verse. Therefore, Messieurs, we must explore the 
 books of the Hebrews, the hieroglyphics of the 
 Egyptians, and the treatises of those Greeks whom 
 they call gnostics, because they had knowledge. 
 For myself, as is only just, I have reserved the 
 most arduous part of this great labour. I devote 
 myself to deciphering the hieroglyphics that the 
 Egyptians inscribed in the temples of their gods and 
 on the tombs of the priests. Having brought back 
 from Egypt many of these inscriptions, I am get- 
 ting at their meaning with the help of the key that 
 I have been able to find in the writing of Clement 
 of Alexandria. 
 
 "The Rabbi MosaTde, who lives a retired life un- 
 der my roof, labours to re-establish the true mean- 
 ing of the Pentateuch. He is an elder, and very 
 learned in magic, who lived for seventeen years shut 
 in the crypts of the great Pyramid, where he read 
 the works of Thoth. As for you, Messieurs, I 
 count on employing your knowledge to read the 
 Alexandrine manuscripts which I have myself col- 
 lected in large numbers. Doubtless you will find 
 marvellous secrets in them, and I have no fear but 
 that with the help of these three sources of enlight- 
 enment, the Egyptian, the Hebraic, and the Greek,
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 49 
 
 I shall soon arrive at possession of the means still 
 lacking to me of ruling absolutely over nature both 
 visible and invisible. 
 
 "Rest assured that I shall acknowledge your ser- 
 vices by allowing you to participate to some ex- 
 tent in my powers. 
 
 "I do not speak to you of a more vulgar method 
 of acknowledgment. At the point I have reached 
 in my philosophic work money is but a mere trifle." 
 
 When Monsieur d'Astarac got to this point of 
 his speech, my good master interrupted him: 
 
 "Monsieur," said he, "I will not conceal from 
 you that this money, which seems but a trifle to you, 
 is for me a burning anxiety, for I have experienced 
 that it is not easy to gain it honestly or even other- 
 wise. I shall therefore be grateful for any assur- 
 ance you may give me on this subject." 
 
 Monsieur d'Astarac, with a gesture which 
 seemed to sweep aside some invisible object, reas- 
 sured Monsieur Jerome Coignard. As for me, 
 curious of all I saw, I only wished to begin my 
 new life. 
 
 At his master's call, the old serving-man who 
 had opened the door, appeared in the study. 
 
 "Messieurs," continued our host, "I give you 
 your liberty until the mid-day meal. I shall be 
 much obliged to you, however, if you will go and 
 see the rooms prepared for you upstairs, and tell 
 me if anything be wanting. Criton will show you 
 the way." 
 
 After having made sure that we were following 
 him, the silent Criton left the room and began to 
 mount the stairs. He climbed to the very top. 
 Then going a few steps down a long corridor, he 
 showed us two very neat rooms where a good fire
 
 50 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 was burning. I should never have believed that a 
 house outwardly in such a ruined state and whose 
 front showed but cracked walls and blind windows 
 could in some parts be so habitable. My first care 
 was to look where I was. Our rooms gave on to 
 fields, and the view, over the marshy banks of the 
 Seine, spread as far as the Calvary of Mount 
 Valerian. 
 
 On taking a look at our furniture, I saw laid out 
 on the bed, a grey coat, breeches to match, a hat, 
 and a sword. On the carpet, a pair of buckled 
 shoes stood genteelly paired, heels together, toes 
 out, as if they had an innate appreciation of gal- 
 lant bearing. 
 
 I augured favourably from all this of our mas- 
 ter's liberality. To do him honour I took great 
 pains over my toilet, and I powdered my hair freely 
 with powder, of which I found a box full on a little 
 table. I found in a drawer of the chest of draw- 
 ers, a lace shirt and white stockings all in keeping. 
 
 Having clad myself in the shirt, stockings, 
 breeches, coat and waistcoat, I set about walking 
 up and down the room, the hat under my arm, my 
 hand on the hilt of my sword, stopping every mo- 
 ment to lean over the mirror, and regretting that 
 Catherine the lace-maker could not see me thus gal- 
 lantly equipped. 
 
 I had gone through this little performance sev- 
 eral times when Monsieur Jerome Coignard came 
 into my room with new bands and a very respec- 
 table clerical collar. 
 
 "Is it you Tournebroche, my son?" he exclaimed. 
 "Never forget that you owe these fine clothes to 
 the knowledge that I have instilled into you. They 
 suit a humanist such as you are, for where we speak
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 51 
 
 of the humanities it is as much as to say ornaments. 
 But look at me, I beg of you, and tell me do I not 
 look well. In this coat I feel that I am a man 
 of worthy repute. This Monsieur d'Astarac is of 
 a magnificent turn. 'Tis a pity that he is mad. 
 But he is at least sane on one point for he calls 
 his valet Criton, that is to say judge. And it is 
 true indeed that our valets are the witnesses of 
 our every action. They are sometimes their in- 
 stigation. When milord Verulam, Chancellor of 
 England, whose philosophy is not much to my taste, 
 but who was a learned man, entered the Upper 
 House to take his trial, his lackeys, clad with a 
 sumptuousness that gave evidence of the display ex- 
 hibited by the chancellor in the conduct of his house- 
 hold, rose up as a mark of respect. But milord 
 Verulam said to them: 'Be seated! Your ag- 
 grandisement has brought me low.' 
 
 "In reality, these rogues had by their extrava- 
 gance rushed him to ruin and constrained him to 
 acts for which he was indicted for corruption. 
 Tournebroche, my son, may the example of milord 
 Verulam, Chancellor of England, and author of the 
 Novum Organon be always before your eyes. But 
 to return to this Seigneur d'Astarac, in whose serv- 
 ice we are, it is a great pity that he is a sorcerer 
 and given over to evil knowledge. You know, my 
 son, that I pride myself on my particularity in mat- 
 ters of faith. It costs me something to take serv- 
 ice with a cabalist, who turns our sacred writings 
 upside down, on the pretext of understanding 
 them better so. All the same, if, as his name 
 and his speech seem to indicate he is a gentle- 
 man of Gascony, we have nothing to fear. 
 A Gascon can make pact with the devil, for you
 
 52 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 
 
 may be sure that it is the devil who will be duped." 
 The bell for our mid-day dinner interrupted our 
 talk. 
 
 "Tournebroche, my son," said my master, go- 
 ing downstairs, "remember during the meal to fol- 
 low all my movements, so that you may imitate 
 them. Having eaten at the third table of my lord 
 Bishop of Seez I know how to behave myself. It 
 is a difficult art. It is less easy to eat like a gentle- 
 man than to speak like one."
 
 VI 
 
 N the dining-room we found the table 
 laid for three, where Monsieur 
 d'Astarac made us sit down. Cri- 
 ton, who did the office of butler, 
 served us with jellies, extracts and 
 "purees" passed a dozen times 
 through the sieve. We saw no 
 roast appear. Though we were very careful to 
 hide our surprise, my good master and I, Mon- 
 sieur d'Astarac perceived it and said to us: 
 
 "Messieurs, this is only an experiment, and if it 
 seems an unfortunate one to you, I will not persist 
 in it. You shall be served with more ordinary 
 dishes, and I myself will not disdain to partake. 
 If the dishes that I offer you to-day are badly pre- 
 pared, it is less the fault of my cook than that of 
 the science of chemistry, which is yet in its infancy. 
 All the same, this will give you some notion of what 
 we shall see in the future. At present men eat 
 without philosophy. They do not feed like rea- 
 sonable beings. They do not even think about it. 
 But what do they think about? They nearly all 
 live in a state of stupidity, and even such as are 
 capable of reflection occupy their mind with follies 
 such as controversy and the making of poetry. 
 Consider, Messieurs, the subject of man and his 
 food since distant times when they ceased all com- 
 merce with Sylphs and Salamanders. Abandoned 
 by these sprites of air, they sank heavily down into 
 ignorance and barbarism. Without art and with- 
 
 53
 
 54 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 out governance, they lived naked and miserable in 
 caves, on the banks of streams, or in the forests. 
 The chase was their only pursuit. When by sur- 
 prise or superior swiftness they took some timid 
 animal, they devoured their prey while it was yet 
 quivering. 
 
 "Moreover, they ate the flesh of their compan- 
 ions, and of their weakly brethren, and the first 
 sepulchres of humanity were living tombs, were 
 bowels, famished and without compassion. 
 
 "After long and savage centuries, appeared a 
 man divine whom the Greeks called Prometheus. 
 There is no doubt that this sage had commerce with 
 the race of Salamanders, in the secret resorts of the 
 Nymphs. He learnt from them, and taught to 
 poor mortals, the art of kindling and keeping fire. 
 Among the innumerable gains which mankind has 
 derived from him who is now enskied, one of the 
 happiest was to be able to cook food, and by this 
 treatment to render it lighter and less gross. 
 
 "And it is in great measure as a result of their 
 nourishment being submitted to the action of fire, 
 that men have slowly and by degrees become intelli- 
 gent, industrious, reflective, and apt to cultivate the 
 arts and sciences. But this was but the first step, 
 and it is distressing to think that so many millions 
 of years have rolled by without there having been 
 a second. Since the time when our ancestors 
 broiled a bear's ham over a brushwood fire, under 
 the shelter of a rock, we have made no real prog- 
 ress in cookery. For you will scarcely reckon as 
 anything, the inventions of Lucullus, and that fat 
 pasty to which Vitellius gave the name of the buck- 
 ler of Minerva, any more than our toasts, our pat- 
 ties, our stews, our stuffed meats, and all those
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 55 
 
 made dishes which still retain much of the old bar- 
 barity. 
 
 "The king's table at Fontainebleau, where they 
 dish a whole stag in his skin, and with his antlers, 
 presents to the eyes of a philosopher as gross a 
 spectacle as that of the troglodytes crouching 
 round the fire gnawing horse-bones. The gay pic- 
 tures on the walls, the guards, the richly-dressed 
 officers, the musicians playing airs from Lambert 
 and Lulli * in the gallery, the silken cloths, the sil- 
 ver service, the cups of gold, the Venetian glass, the 
 sconces, the chased epergnes decked with flowers, all 
 these fail to deceive or to cast a charm which shall 
 hide the true nature of this unclean charnel-house, 
 where men and women meet to feast greedily on the 
 carcasses of beasts, on broken bones and torn flesh. 
 What an unphilosophic repast! We swallow, with 
 stupid greed, muscles, fat and entrails of animals, 
 without making any distinction in these substances 
 between the parts which are really suitable for our 
 nourishment and those, far more plentiful, which 
 should be thrown away; and we bolt without dis- 
 tinction, the good and the bad, the useful and the 
 hurtful. This is, however, where we should make 
 a distinction, and if, in all the faculty, a single doc- 
 tor of chemistry and philosopher could be found, 
 we should no longer be obliged to sit down to these 
 disgusting orgies. 
 
 "He would prepare for us, Messieurs, extracts of 
 meat, containing merely what is in sympathy and 
 affinity with our bodies. Only the quintessence of 
 beef and swine-flesh would be taken, merely the 
 elixir of partridges and pullets, and everything that 
 
 * Lulli , Jean-Baptiste. Born at Florence. Settled at court of 
 Louis XIV. Created opera at Paris, 1633-1687.
 
 5 6 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 one swallowed could be digested. It is what I do 
 not despair of succeeding in doing one day, Mes- 
 sieurs, in dwelling more on the study of medicine 
 and chemistry than I have hitherto had the time to 
 do." 
 
 At these words from our host Monsieur Jerome 
 Coignard lifted his eyes from the Spartan broth on 
 his plate, and looked uneasily at Monsieur d'As- 
 tarac. 
 
 "Even so our progress would still be inade- 
 quate," continued the latter. "An honest man can- 
 not without disgust eat the flesh of animals, and 
 nations cannot call themselves civilised so long as 
 slaughter-houses and butchers' shops are to be 
 found in their towns. But one day we shall know 
 how to rid ourselves of these barbarous trades. 
 When we know exactly the nutrient substances 
 which are contained in the bodies of animals, it will 
 become possible to draw these same substances out 
 of the lifeless bodies, which will supply them abund- 
 antly. These bodies really contain all that is found 
 in living beings, since the animal is formed from 
 the vegetable, which in its turn has drawn its sub- 
 stance from lifeless matter. 
 
 "The next thing will be to nourish ourselves on 
 extracts of metals and minerals suitably prepared 
 by physicians. Have no fear the taste will be de- 
 licious and its absorption wholesome. Cooking 
 will be done in retorts, and in alembics and we shall 
 have alchemists as master-cooks. Are you not ex- 
 ceedingly anxious, Messieurs, to see these marvels? 
 I promise you them in time to come. But you can- 
 not yet grasp the excellent results they will effect." 
 
 "Truly, Monsieur, I fail to grasp it." said my 
 good master, taking a drink of wine.
 
 THE RHINE PEDAUQUE 57 
 
 "Deign, in that case, to listen to me a moment," 
 said Monsieur d'Astarac. "Being no longer 
 weighed down by slow processes of digestion men 
 will become singularly agile, their sight will become 
 wonderfully keen, and they will see ships gliding on 
 the seas of the moon. Their understanding will 
 be clearer, their manners will soften. They will 
 advance greatly in the knowledge of God and na- 
 ture. But one must face the changes which will not 
 fail to be produced. Even the structure of the hu- 
 man body will be modified. It is a fact that for 
 want of use organs dwindle and even end by disap- 
 pearing. It has been observed that fish deprived 
 of light become blind; and in Valais I have seen 
 shepherds who, living only on curds and whey, lost 
 their teeth very early; some amongst them never 
 even had any. One cannot but admire nature in 
 that particular; she suffers nothing useless to exist. 
 When mankind feeds but on the infusions I have 
 described, the intestines will not fail to become 
 shorter by several ells, and the size of the stomach 
 will be considerably diminished." 
 
 "Upon my word," said my good master, "you go 
 too fast, Monsieur, and risk making a bad job of 
 it! It has never vexed me that women should have 
 a little of that, so long as the rest was in propor- 
 tion. It is a beauty which appeals to me. Do not 
 inconsiderately prune it away." 
 
 "Well, never mind about that. We will leave 
 women's waists and hips to shape themselves ac- 
 cording to the canon of the Greek sculptors. That 
 will be to please you, Monsieur 1'Abbe, and in con- 
 sideration of the needs of maternity; though, to 
 speak candidly, I desire to make various changes on 
 that point, of which I will speak to you some day.
 
 58 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 To return to our subject, I ought to tell you that all 
 I have told you up to the present is but feeling the 
 way towards the true nourishment, which is that of 
 the Sylphs, and the Spirits of the air. They drink 
 in the light, which suffices to give a strength and 
 wonderful supplenesss to their bodies. It is their 
 only potion. One day it will be ours, Messieurs. 
 It is merely a question of rendering potable the 
 beams of the sun. I confess to not seeing with 
 sufficient clearness the road to success, and I fore- 
 see numerous troubles and great obstacles in the 
 way. If ever some sage attains this goal, mankind 
 will equal the Sylphs and Salamanders in intelli- 
 gence and beauty." 
 
 My good master listened to these words sitting 
 bowed in his seat, his head bent in sadness. He 
 seemed to be pondering the changes in his appear- 
 ance the nutrition imagined by his host would one 
 day bring about. 
 
 "Monsieur," said he at last, "did you not speak 
 yesterday at the cook-shop of a certain elixir which 
 dispenses with all other nourishment?" 
 
 "True," said Monsieur d'Astarac, "but that 
 liquor is only good for philosophers; by that you 
 will readily conceive that its usage is restricted. It 
 were better not to speak of it." 
 
 However, a doubt troubled me, and I asked per- 
 mission of my host to put it before him, certain that 
 he would throw light upon it at once. He gave me 
 permission to speak, and I said: 
 
 "Monsieur, these Salamanders who, as you say, 
 are so beautiful and of whom, by your account, I 
 have formed so charming a notion have they had 
 the misfortune to spoil their teeth by drinking light 
 as the peasants of Valais have lost theirs by taking
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 59 
 
 nothing but milk-food? I allow that I am anxious 
 on the point." 
 
 "My son," replied Monsieur d'Astarac, "y ur 
 curiosity pleases me, and I will satisfy it. Sala- 
 manders have no teeth, properly speaking. But 
 their gums are furnished with two rows of very 
 white and shining pearls, which lend an inconceiv- 
 able grace to their smile. Know, then, that these 
 pearls are but materialised light." 
 
 I told Monsieur d'Astarac that I was very much 
 relieved to hear it. He continued: 
 
 "Men's teeth are a sign of their ferocity. When 
 we feed as we ought these teeth will be replaced 
 by some ornament like the Salamander's pearls. 
 Then we shall be unable to imagine how a lover 
 could have looked without horror and disgust on 
 the dog-teeth in his mistress's mouth."
 
 VII 
 
 FTER dinner our host led us into a 
 large gallery adjoining his study and 
 serving as a library. 
 
 There on oaken shelves were 
 ranged an innumerable army, or 
 rather a great council of books, duo- 
 decimos, octavos, quartos, folios, 
 covered in calf, basil, morocco, parchment and pig- 
 skin. Six windows threw light on this silent gather- 
 ing which stretched from one end of the apartment to 
 the other the whole length of the high walls. 
 Great tables, alternating with celestial globes and 
 astronomical instruments, occupied the middle of 
 the gallery. Monsieur d'Astarac begged us to 
 choose the corner which seemed to us the most con- 
 venient for work. 
 
 But my good master, his mouth watering, his 
 head thrown back, feasted his eyes and inhaled the 
 verv atmosphere of books. 
 
 "By Apollo!" he cried, "a magnificent library 
 indeed! The library of my lord Bishop of Seez, 
 rich as it is in works on the canon-law, cannot be 
 compared to this. There is no resort more pleas- 
 ing to my taste, not even the Elysian Fields de- 
 scribed by Virgil. I make out at first glance so 
 many rare works and so many precious collections 
 that I doubt, Monsieur, if any private library can 
 better this, which only yields in France to the 
 Mazarin, and to the Royal. I go so far as to say, 
 60
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 61 
 
 at the sight of the Greek and Latin manuscripts, 
 which crowd this corner here, that after the Bod- 
 leian, the Ambrosian, the Laurentian and the Vati- 
 can, we may name the Astaracian. Without flat- 
 tering myself I can scent truffles and books from 
 afar, and I hold you from this moment for the 
 equal of Peiresc,* Grolier, and de Canevarius, 
 princes among bibliophiles!" 
 
 "I out-top them all," replied Monsieur d'Astarac 
 calmly, "and this library is infinitely more precious 
 than all those you have just named. 
 
 "The king's library is but a book-pedlar's lot be- 
 sides mine, unless you merely reckon by number of 
 volumes and mass of inked paper. 
 
 "Gabriel Naude,t and your Abbe Bignon,| re- 
 nowned as book collectors, in comparison with my- 
 self, were but indolent shepherds of a sheepish and 
 ignoble flock of books. 
 
 "As to the Benedictines, I grant you they are in- 
 dustrious, but they have no nicety of discernment, 
 and their libraries reflect the mediocrity of the 
 minds that have formed them. My collection, 
 Monsieur, is not on the model of these. The 
 works which I have brought together form a whole 
 which will not fail to procure me the Knowledge. 
 It is gnostic, oecumenical, and spiritual. If all the 
 lines traced on these innumerable leaves of parch- 
 ment and of paper could enter in due order into 
 your brain, Monsieur, you would know all things, 
 be capable of all things, you would be the master of 
 nature, a worker in plasmic matter; you would hold 
 
 * Peiresc, N. C. Fabri de. Savant, b. Provence, 1580-1637. 
 
 t Naude, Gabriel. Litterateur and bibliophile, b. Paris, 1600- 
 1653- 
 
 ^.Bignon, Jerome. Scholar and writer. Life by Perrault, 1589- 
 1656.
 
 62 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 the world between the two fingers of your hand as 
 I hold these grains of snuff." 
 
 Whereupon he offered his box to my good 
 master. 
 
 "You are very good," said Monsieur 1'Abbe 
 Coignard. 
 
 And letting his ravished gaze wander once more 
 over this marshalled learning, he cried: 
 
 "There, between the third and fourth windows 
 are shelves bearing an illustrious burden ! The 
 Oriental manuscripts are assembled and seem to 
 converse in company! I can see that ten or twelve 
 of them are very venerable under their rags of pur- 
 ple, and gold-brocaded silk. There are some who 
 wear clasps of precious stones to their coats, like 
 the Byzantine emperors. Others again are shut in 
 plaques of ivory." 
 
 "Those," said Monsieur d'Astarac, "are the cab- 
 alists, Jew, Arabic and Persian. That is The 
 Hand of Power you have just opened. Alongside 
 you will find The Spread Table, The Faithful Pas- 
 tor, Fragments of the Temple, and The Light in 
 Darkness. One place is empty; that of The Still 
 Waters, a precious treatise which Mosaide is at the 
 moment studying. Mosaide, as I have already 
 told you, Messieurs, is occupied in my house in dis- 
 covering the most profound secrets contained in 
 Hebrew writings, and, although more than a hun- 
 dred years old, this rabbi is unwilling to die until he 
 has penetrated the meaning of every cabalistic sym- 
 bol. I am under great obligation to him; therefore 
 I beg of you, Messieurs, to evince the same feelings 
 towards him that I have myself. 
 
 "Enough of that, and now let us turn to what 
 particularly concerns you. I thought, Monsieur
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 63 
 
 1'Abbe, you might transcribe and put into Latin 
 these Greek manuscripts of inestimable value. I 
 have faith in your knowledge and in your zeal, and 
 I do not doubt that your pupil will soon be of great 
 help to you." 
 
 And addressing himself to me: 
 
 "Yes, my son, I have great hopes of you. They 
 are founded in great measure on the education you 
 have received. For you were, so to speak, nour- 
 ished in the flames, under a chimney-hood haunted 
 by Salamanders. This circumstance has great 
 weight." 
 
 As he spoke he seized an armful of manuscripts 
 which he placed on the table. 
 
 "This," said he, pointing to a roll of papyrus, 
 "comes from Egypt. It is a work of Zozimus the 
 Panopolitan,* which was thought to be lost, and 
 which I myself found in the coffin of a priest of 
 Serapis. And what you see there," he added, 
 showing us some shreds of shining and fibrous 
 leaves on which Greek characters traced with a 
 brush were dimly to be discerned, "are quite un- 
 heard of revelations which we owe, the one to So- 
 phar the Persian, the other to John, arch-priest of 
 St. Evagia. 
 
 "I shall be infinitely obliged to you if you will 
 first of all busy yourself with these works. After- 
 wards we will study the manuscripts of Synesius, 
 Bishop of Ptolemai's, of Olympiodorus and Ste- 
 phanus, which I found in Ravenna in a vault 
 where they had been shut up since the reign of 
 
 * Zozimus the Panopolitan. Celebrated hermetic philosopher of 
 the 3rd century. Greatest of the alchemists. According to Pho- 
 tius the historian Zozimus wrote twenty-eight works of alchemy 
 and dedicated them to his sister Theosebia. There are MSS. of 
 his in the Librairie Nationale at Paris.
 
 64 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 the ignorant Theodosius, surnamed the Great. 
 
 "Messieurs, you will please first get an idea of 
 what this vast work will mean. At the end of the 
 room you will find, to the right of the fireplace, all 
 the lexicons and grammars I have been able to col- 
 lect, and these will be of some use to you. Permit 
 me to leave you; there are four or five Sylphs await- 
 ing me in my study. Criton will see that you want 
 for nothing. Farewell." 
 
 As soon as Monsieur d'Astarac was out of the 
 room my good master sat down before the papyrus 
 of Zozimus and arming himself with a magnifying- 
 glass he had found on the table, began to decipher 
 it. I asked him if he had not been surprised at all 
 he had just heard. 
 
 He answered without raising his head: 
 
 "My son, I have known too many kinds of peo- 
 ple and gone through too many changes of fortune 
 to be astonished at anything. 
 
 "This gentleman appears to be mad, less because 
 he is really so than because his thoughts are so ex- 
 cessively different from those of the vulgar. But if 
 one paid attention to the conversation commonly 
 held in this world one would find still less sense 
 than in that of this philosopher. Left to itself, 
 even the loftiest human reason builds its palaces 
 and temples in the clouds, and truly Monsieur d'As- 
 tarac gathers a sufficiency of fog. There is no 
 truth but in God; do not forget that, my son. But 
 this verily is the book of Imouth which Zozimus the 
 Panopolitan wrote for his sister Theosebia. What 
 glory and what joy to read this unique manuscript 
 found again in such wonderful fashion. I shall 
 consecrate my days and my nights to it. I pity 
 those ignorant men whose idleness throws them
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 65 
 
 into debauchery. It is a miserable life they lead. 
 What is a woman compared with an Alexandrian 
 papyrus? Compare, I ask you, this most notable 
 library with a wine-shop, the Petit Bacchus, and the 
 handling this precious manuscript with the caresses 
 one bestows on girls in an arbour, and tell me, my 
 son, in which choice does true content abide? I, 
 boon companion of the Muses, admitted to those 
 wordless revels of meditation the orator of Ma- 
 daura * celebrated with eloquence, I give thanks to 
 God that He has made me an honest man." 
 
 * The orator of Madaura. Apuleius, author of the famous 
 romance, "The Golden Ass."
 
 VIII 
 
 OR the space of a month or even six 
 weeks Monsieur Coignard applied 
 himself day and night as he had 
 promised to reading Zozimus the 
 Panopolitan. During meals, which 
 we took at Monsieur d'Astarac's ta- 
 ble, the conversation ran but on the 
 opinions of gnostics and on the knowledge of the 
 ancient Egyptians. Being but a very ignorant 
 scholar I gave my master little enough help. Still 
 I busied myself in researches under his directions 
 to the best of my ability; I took a certain pleasure 
 in them. And we undoubtedly lived a happy and 
 peaceful life. Towards the seventh week Mon- 
 sieur d'Astarac gave me leave to go and see my 
 parents at the cook-shop. The shop seemed to me 
 strangely shrunk. My mother was there, alone 
 and sad. She gave a loud cry when she saw me 
 equipped like a young prince." 
 
 "My Jacques," she said, "I am happy indeed." 
 And she began to cry. We embraced one an- 
 other. Then, wiping her eyes with a corner of her 
 coarse apron: 
 
 "Your father," she said, "is at the Petit Bacchus. 
 He goes there a great deal since you left, for he 
 takes less pleasure in his home now that you are 
 away. He will be pleased to see you again. But 
 tell me, my Jacquot, are you pleased with your new 
 life? I have had my regrets that I let you go away 
 with this nobleman. I even accused myself in con- 
 66
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 67 
 
 fession, to Monsieur the third vicaire, of having 
 preferred the good of your body to that of your 
 soul, and of not having given enough thought to 
 God in placing you out. Monsieur the third vic- 
 aire rebuked me kindly and exhorted me to follow 
 the example of the virtuous women of Holy Scrip- 
 ture, of whom he named several to me, but those 
 are names that I see plainly enough I shall never 
 remember. He did not explain himself very fully, 
 as it was Saturday night, and the church was full 
 of penitents." 
 
 I comforted my good mother as well as I could, 
 and told her how Monsieur d'Astarac made me 
 work at Greek, which is the language of the Gospel. 
 This thought was pleasing to her. Nevertheless 
 she was still troubled with cares. 
 
 "You will never guess, my Jacques," she said to 
 me, "who has been speaking to me of Monsieur 
 d'Astarac. Why, Cadette Saint-Avit, the servant 
 of the cure of St. Benoit. She comes from Gas- 
 cony, from a place called Laroque-Timbaut, quite 
 near St. Eulalie, where Monsieur d'Astarac is lord 
 of the manor. Cadette St. Avit is old, you know, 
 as a priest's servant should be. When she was 
 young and lived in that neighbourhood, she knew 
 the three Messieurs d'Astarac, one of whom, cap- 
 tain of a ship, was drowned in the sea. He was 
 the youngest. The second, colonel of a regiment, 
 went to the war and was killed there. The eldest, 
 Hercule d'Astarac, is the only survivor. It is this 
 one then whom you are with, and for your good, 
 my Jacques, at least I hope so. When young he was 
 magnificent in his attire, liberal in his ways, but of 
 a gloomy cast. He held aloof from public office, 
 and did not seem eager to enter the king's service
 
 68 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 as his brothers did, and there meet an honourable 
 end. He was in the habit of saying that there was 
 nothing glorious in bearing a sword at one's side, 
 that he knew no trade more ignoble than the noble 
 career of arms, and that a village bone-setter, was, 
 in his opinion, much above a brigadier or a marshal 
 of France. Such was his talk. I must own that 
 it does not seem either bad or mischievous to me, 
 but rather bold and odd. Still it must in some 
 measure be condemned, since Cadette St. Avit said 
 that Monsieur the cure took exception to it, as con- 
 trary to the ordering of things established by God 
 in the world, and as opposed to passages in the 
 Bible, where God is called a name which means 
 field-marshal. That would be a great sin. Mon- 
 sieur Hercule held himself so aloof from the court 
 that he refused to make the journey to Versailles 
 to be presented to his majesty, as his birth war- 
 ranted. He said: 'The king does not visit me. I 
 shall not visit him.' And it stands to reason, my 
 Jacquot, that this is a most unnatural speech." 
 
 My good mother looked at me with troubled in- 
 terrogation, and then went on in the same way: 
 
 "What I have still to tell you, my Jacquot, is 
 even less credible. Yet Cadette St. Avit spoke of 
 it as sure and certain. I will tell you that Mon- 
 sieur Hercule d'Astarac, not leaving his domain, 
 cared for nothing but the putting cf sunlight into 
 glass bottles. Cadette St. Avit did not know how 
 he set about it, but of this much she is certain, that 
 in the course of time, in these glass bottles well 
 corked and warmed in a bain-marie, women were 
 formed very tiny and beautifully made, and dressed 
 like princesses in a play. You laugh, my Jacquot, 
 yet one cannot joke at these things when one sees
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 69 
 
 the consequences. It is a great sin to make crea- 
 tures in this way who cannot be baptized and can 
 never participate in eternal bliss. For you can 
 scarcely imagine that Monsieur d'Astarac took 
 these little dolls to the priests in their bottles to 
 hold them over the baptismal font? They could 
 never have found a god-mother." 
 
 "But, dear mother," said I, "Monsieur d'Astar- 
 ac's dolls have no need of baptism for they had no 
 share in original sin." 
 
 "I never thought of that," said my mother, "and 
 Cadette St. Avit herself said nothing about it, al- 
 though she is servant to a cure. Unfortunately 
 she left Gascony very young to come into France, 
 and she heard no more of Monsieur d'Astarac, his 
 bottles and his puppets. I hope indeed, my dear 
 Jacquot, that he has renounced these evil works 
 which could not be accomplished without the help 
 of the Evil One." 
 
 But I asked: 
 
 "Tell me, my good mother, Cadette St. Avit, 
 the cure's servant, did she see with her own eyes 
 these ladies in the bottles?" 
 
 "Not so, my child; Monsieur d'Astarac was far 
 too secretive to show those dolls. But she heard 
 them spoken of by an ecclesiastic of the name of 
 Fulgence, who was always about the chateau and 
 swore he had seen these little people come out of 
 their glass prison and dance a minuet. And, there- 
 fore, she had all the more reason for believing it. 
 For one may doubt what one sees but not the word 
 of an honest man, particularly when he is an ecclesi- 
 astic. There is another drawback to these prac- 
 tices, that is that they are extremely costly, and one 
 cannot imagine, Cadette St. Avit said, the expense
 
 7 o THE REINE PEDAUQUE 
 
 Monsieur Hercule went to, to procure the bottles of 
 various shapes, the furnaces, and the grammaries 
 with which he had filled his chateau. But by the 
 death of his brother he became the richest gentle- 
 man in the county, and while he wasted his sub- 
 stance in folly his fat lands worked for him. Ca- 
 dette St. Avit judges that notwithstanding his out- 
 lay he must still be very rich, even now." 
 
 As she spoke my father entered the shop. He 
 embraced me fondly and confided to me that the 
 house had lost half its attraction in consequence of 
 my departure, and that of Monsieur Jerome Coig- 
 nard, who was a good fellow and a jovial. He 
 complimented me on my clothes and gave me some 
 hints on deportment, declaring that business had 
 bred an affable manner in him from the continual 
 obligation he was under to greet customers as if 
 they were gentlemen, even when they were of the 
 vulgarest sort. He gave me the advice to round 
 my elbow and turn out my toes, and counselled me 
 over and above to go and see Leandre, at the fair 
 of Saint Germain, so as to model myself on him. 
 
 We dined together with good appetite, and 
 parted in floods of tears. I loved them both very 
 much, and what made me cry most was that I felt 
 that, in six weeks of absence, they had become 
 nearly strangers to me. And I think that their 
 grief came from the same feeling.
 
 IX 
 
 T was black night when I left the 
 cook-shop. At the corner of the 
 rue des Ecrivains I heard a rich 
 deep voice that sang: 
 
 "If 'it be thine honour's lost, 
 Frail and fair, 'twas thy desire." 
 
 And I soon saw on the side whence came the 
 voice brother Ange who, his wallet swinging on his 
 shoulder and holding Catherine the lace-maker 
 round the waist, walked in the shadow with stag- 
 gering and triumphant gait, throwing up the waters 
 of the gutter under his sandals in magnificent great 
 splashes of mud which seemed to celebrate his sot- 
 tish gloriousness, as the basins at Versailles play 
 their jets in honour of kings. I stood against a 
 stone door-post that they might not see. But it 
 was an unnecessary precaution for they were too oc- 
 cupied with one another. Catherine laughed, with 
 her head thrown back on the monk's shoulder. A 
 ray of moonlight played on her fresh lips, and in 
 her eyes, as in spring waters. And I went on my 
 way, vexed to the soul, with a weight on my heart, 
 thinking on the rounded shape of this beautiful girl 
 pressed in the arms of a dirty capuchin. 
 
 "How should it be," I asked myself, "that so 
 sweet a thing should come into such foul hands? 
 And if it be that Catherine disdains me, need she 
 yet make her scorn the more cruel by the liking she 
 shows for this scoundrel, brother Ange?" 
 7i
 
 72 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 The preference seemed to me astonishing, and 
 surprised as much as it disgusted me. But it was 
 not in vain that I was the pupil of Monsieur Jerome 
 Coignard. The incomparable master had formed 
 my mind to meditation. I pictured to myself the 
 Satyrs one sees in gardens ravishing the Nymphs, 
 and I made the reflection that if Catherine was 
 made like a Nymph, the Satyrs such as they are ex- 
 hibited to us, were as frightful as the monk. I 
 came to the conclusion that I should not be too 
 much astonished at that I had just seen. Still my 
 reasons did not dissipate my grief; no doubt be- 
 cause they did not come from the same source. 
 These meditations led me, across the shades of 
 night and the puddles melted by the thaw, to the St. 
 Germain road, where I met Monsieur 1'Abbe Je- 
 rome Coignard, who had been supping in the town 
 and was returning late to the Cross of Les Sablons. 
 
 "My son," he said, "I have just been discussing 
 Zozimus and the gnostics at the table of a very 
 learned ecclesiastic, a second Peiresc. The wine 
 was rough and the cheer but middling. But nectar 
 and ambrosia flowed in our speech." 
 
 My good master then spoke of the Panopolitan 
 with unimaginable eloquence. Alas! I was a bad 
 listener, thinking of that bead of moonlight that 
 fell through the dark on Catherine's lips. 
 
 At last he paused, and I asked him on what 
 ground the Greeks had founded the Nymph's taste 
 for Satyrs. My good master was ready with an 
 answer to any questions, so extensive was his knowl- 
 edge. Said he : 
 
 "My son, it is a taste founded on natural sym- 
 pathy. Although less ardent, it is as pronounced 
 as that of the Satyrs for the Nymphs to which
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 73 
 
 it corresponds. Poets have well observed the 
 distinction. In this connection I will tell you a 
 singular adventure I read of in a manuscript which 
 belonged to my lord bishop of Seez' library (I see 
 it still). It was a compilation in folio written in 
 good writing of the last century. The singular 
 story it told was this. A Norman gentleman and 
 his wife took part in a public merry-making, the one 
 disguised as a Satyr, the other as a Nymph. One 
 knows from Ovid with what ardour the Satyrs pur- 
 sued the Nymphs. This gentleman had read his 
 Metamorphoses. He entered so well into the 
 spirit of his disguise that nine months afterwards 
 his wife presented him with a child that had the 
 goat's foot and the horned brow. What became 
 of the father we do not know, except that he died 
 the lot common to all leaving, along with his lit- 
 tle goat-foot, another and a younger child, a Chris- 
 tian this one, and of human form. This younger 
 son appealed to the law that his brother should be 
 deprived of the paternal inheritance by reason that 
 he did not belong to the race redeemed by the blood 
 of Jesus Christ. The Parliament of Normandy, 
 sitting in Rouen, gave him judgment and the decree 
 was registered." 
 
 I asked my good master if it were possible that 
 such a travesty could have its effect on nature, and 
 if the shape of the child result from the cut of a 
 coat. Monsieur 1'Abbe Coignard advised me not 
 to believe a word of it. 
 
 "Jacques Tournebroche, my son," said he, "al- 
 ways 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. God be thanked I have never erred in the
 
 74 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 matter of the dogmas of our holy religion, and I 
 trust that I shall be found in this disposition in the 
 article of death." 
 
 While talking thus we arrived at the chateau. 
 In the midst of the darkness the roof showed up 
 with a red illumination. From one of the chimneys 
 sparks poured out which mounted in volumes to fall 
 again in golden rain under the thick smoke which 
 hid the sky. We both thought that flames were 
 devouring the building. My good master tore his 
 hair and groaned. 
 
 "My Zozimus! my papyrus! my Greek manu- 
 scripts! Help! help! my Zozimus!" 
 
 Running up the avenue through pools of water 
 which reflected the glow of the fire, we crossed the 
 park which was buried in deep shadow still and de- 
 serted. In the chateau all seemed asleep. We 
 heard the roar of the fire, which filled the dark 
 stairway. We went up two steps at a time, stop- 
 ping at moments to hear whence came this awful 
 noise. 
 
 It seemed to come from a corridor on the first 
 floor where we had never yet set foot. We felt our 
 way along this direction, and seeing a red light 
 through the cracks of a closed door we flung our- 
 selves upon it. It yielded suddenly. 
 
 Monsieur d'Astarac, who had opened it, stood 
 tranquilly before us. His long, black-clad figure 
 stood erect in a very atmosphere of flame. He 
 asked us quietly what urgent matter made us seek 
 him at this hour. 
 
 There was no conflagration, but an enormous fire 
 issuing from a reverberatory furnace, known to me 
 since as an athanor. The whole of this room, and 
 it was big enough, was full of long-necked glass bot-
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 75 
 
 ties surmounted by winding, duck-billed glass tubes ; 
 retorts, like faces with inflated cheeks, whence 
 sprang a nose like an elephant's trunk; crucibles, 
 matrasses, cupels, cucurbits and vessels of unknown 
 shapes. 
 
 My good master, wiping his face, which shone 
 like fire, said: 
 
 "Ah, Monsieur! we thought the chateau was 
 blazing like a handful of straw. Thank God the 
 library is not burnt. But I see, Monsieur, that you 
 practice the spagyric art." 
 
 "I will not conceal from you," replied Monsieur 
 d'Astarac, "that I have made considerable progress 
 in it, without, however, having altogether found the 
 Theleme, which would complete my work. At the 
 very moment you burst in I was in the act of distil- 
 ling the Spirit of the World and the Flower of 
 Heaven, which is the True Fountain of Youth. 
 Do you understand alchemy at all, Monsieur Coig- 
 nard?" 
 
 The Abbe replied that he had acquired a certain 
 smattering from books, but he held the practice per- 
 nicious, and contrary to religion. 
 
 Monsieur d'Astarac smiled and said: 
 
 "You are too able a man, Monsieur Coignard, 
 not to know the Flying Eagle, the Bird of Hermes, 
 the Fowl of Hermogenes, the Raven's Head, the 
 Green Lion and the Phoenix." 
 
 "I have heard it said," replied my good master, 
 "that those are the names of the philosopher's 
 stone in its different states. But I doubt the pos- 
 sibility of transmuting metals." 
 
 Monsieur d'Astarac answered very confidently: 
 
 "Nothing is easier for me, Monsieur, than to put 
 an end to your uncertainty."
 
 7 6 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 He went and opened an old lop-sided cupboard 
 propped against the wall, took out a copper coin 
 bearing the effigy of the late king, and drew our at- 
 tention to a round spot which ran through it. 
 "That," said he, "is the effect of the stone which 
 has transmuted the copper into silver. But that is 
 but a trifle." 
 
 He returned to the cupboard and took out a sap- 
 phire as large as an egg, an opal of marvellous size, 
 and a handful of perfectly beautiful emeralds. 
 
 "Here," said he, "is some of my work, which 
 will sufficiently prove to you that the spagyric art 
 is not the dream of an empty brain." 
 
 At the bottom of the bowl where the stones lay 
 were five or six small diamonds which Monsieur 
 d'Astarac did not even mention. My good master 
 asked if they were also of his making. And the 
 alchemist having replied that they were : 
 
 "Monsieur," said the Abbe, "I advise you first 
 to show these latter to the curious, for prudence 
 sake. If you first show the sapphire, opal and the 
 ruby, they will say that only the devil could produce 
 such stones, and they will proceed against you for 
 sorcery. Moreover, only the devil could live com- 
 fortably with these furnaces, where one inhales the 
 very flames. As for me, who have been here but a 
 quarter of an hour, I am already nearly cooked." 
 
 Monsieur d'Astarac smiled benevolently, and 
 showing us out explained himself as follows: 
 
 "Although knowing well what to think as re- 
 gards the reality of the devil and of That Other, I 
 am always willing to speak of them with those who 
 believe in them. The devil and That Other are, as 
 we may say, characters; and we may talk of them 
 as of Achilles and Thersites. Rest assured, Mes-
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 77 
 
 sieurs, that if the devil be what 'they say, he does 
 not dwell in so subtle an element as the fire. It is 
 a contradiction of the worst kind to put so evil a 
 beast in the substance of the sun. But as I had the 
 honour to explain, Monsieur Tournebroche, to your 
 mother's friend the capuchin, I consider that Chris- 
 tians calumniate Satan and his demons. That 
 there may be, in some unknown land, beings yet 
 more wicked than men is possible, though barely 
 conceivable. Assuredly, if they do exist, they in- 
 habit regions deprived of light, and if they burn 
 it is in ice, which truthfully enough causes acute 
 pain, and not in illustrious flame amidst the ardent 
 daughters of the stars. They suffer because they 
 are wicked, and wickedness is an ill, but it can be 
 but from frost-bite. As to your Satan, Monsieur, 
 who is held in such horror by our theologians, I do 
 not think him so contemptible, to judge by all you 
 say of him, and if, peradventure, he exists I should 
 take him for no evil beast, but rather for some 
 slight Sylph, or, to put him at the lowest, for a 
 metal-working Gnome, very intelligent and slightly 
 ironical." 
 
 My good master stopped his ears and fled that he 
 might not hear any more. 
 
 "What impiety, Tournebroche my son," he cried 
 on the stairs, "what blasphemy! Did you fully 
 understand the detestableness of this philosopher's 
 principles? He pushes his atheism to the point of 
 a frenzied rejoicing which confounds me. But that 
 of itself renders him nearly innocent in the matter, 
 for, being separate from all belief, he cannot lacer- 
 ate the Holy Church as do those who are still par- 
 tially attached to her by some half-severed and still 
 bleeding member. Such, my son, are the Luther-
 
 78 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 
 
 ans and the Calvinists, whose rupture is the gan- 
 grene of the Church. Atheists, on the contrary, are 
 their own damnation, and one may die with them 
 without sin. So we need have no scruples in living 
 with this Monsieur d'Astarac, who believes in 
 neither God nor devil. But did you notice, 
 Tournebroche my son, that at the bottom of the 
 bowl lay a handful of small diamonds he himself 
 scarcely troubled to take count of, and which 
 seemed to me of very good water? I have my 
 doubts about the opal and the sapphire. But as to 
 those small diamonds, they seemed to me to be the 
 real thing." 
 
 Having reached our rooms upstairs we bade each 
 other good-night.
 
 E led, my good master and I, a se- 
 cluded and regular life until the 
 spring came. We worked all morn- 
 ing, shut up in the library, and we 
 returned there after dinner as to the 
 play according to Monsieur Je- 
 rome Coignard's expression; not in- 
 deed, as this excellent man said, to witness a scurri- 
 lous show, after the manner of men of fashion and 
 lackeys, but to hear the sublime if contradictory dia- 
 logues of ancient writers. 
 
 In this way the reading and translation of the 
 Panopolitan advanced wonderfully. To this I 
 scarcely contributed. Such work was beyond my 
 knowledge, and it was as much as I could do to 
 learn the shape the Greek characters took on papy- 
 rus. At the same time I helped my master to con- 
 sult the authors who could throw light on his re- 
 searches, particularly Olympiodorus and Photius,* 
 who since then have ever remained familiar to me. 
 The little help I gave him raised me much in my 
 own estimation. 
 
 After a long and bitter winter I was in a fair 
 way to become a savant, when the spring came all 
 at once with her gay train of sunshine, of tender 
 
 * Photius. His elevation to the Patriarchate of Constantinople 
 caused a great schism. He was deposed by Basilius, recalled and 
 a second time deposed by Leo in 886. He wrote "Myrobiblon," 
 a work containing a summary of 280 different authors, and his 
 collection of the Canons of the Church, his Letters, and his Lexi- 
 con are also famous. 
 
 79
 
 8o AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 green, and the song of birds. The scent of the li- 
 lac which mounted into the library made me fall 
 to vague dreamings from which my good master 
 brusquely dragged me, saying to me: 
 
 "Jacquot Tournebroche, climb up the ladder if 
 you please, and tell me if that rogue of a Mane- 
 tho * does not speak of a god Imhotep, who with 
 his contradictions torments me like a fiend?" 
 
 And my good master charged his nose with snuff 
 with an air of much content. 
 
 "My son," he said further, "it is to be remarked 
 that our clothes have great influence on our moral 
 being. Since my clerical collar is all spotted with 
 different sauces that I have let drop on it I do not 
 feel so worthy a man. Tournebroche, now you are 
 clad like a marquis, are you not tickled with the 
 desire to assist at an opera dancer's toilet, and to 
 push a roll of false notes on to a faro-table? In 
 one word, don't you feel yourself a man of quality? 
 Do not take what I say in bad part, and remember 
 that it is sufficient to give a coward a bear-skin cap 
 to make him go and get his head broken in the 
 king's service. Tournebroche, our feelings are 
 made up of a thousand things which escape us by 
 their very minuteness, and the destiny of our im- 
 mortal soul depends sometimes on a breath too 
 light to bend a blade of grass. We are the play- 
 thing of the winds. But hand me, I beg you, the 
 rudiments of Vossius t whose red edges I see gap- 
 ing open under your left arm." 
 
 That day, after the three o'clock dinner, Mon- 
 sieur d'Astarac took my good master and myself 
 for a walk in the park. He led us to the west side, 
 
 Manetho. Egyptian historian, 3rd century, B.C. 
 
 j, G. J. German savant, b. Heidelberg, 1577-1649.
 
 THE RHINE PEDAUQUE 81 
 
 which looked out on Rueil and Mt. Valerian. It 
 was the most withdrawn and the loneliest. Ivy, 
 and grass close-cropped by the rabbits, covered the 
 alleys, which were blocked here and there by huge 
 trunks of dead trees. The marble statues on 
 either side smiled, knowing nothing of their ruin. 
 A Nymph with her broken hand to her lips signed 
 to a shepherd to be discreet. A young Faun, whose 
 head lay on the ground, still sought his lips with his 
 flute. And all these beings of divinity seemed to 
 teach us to despise the hurts of time and fortune. 
 We followed the banks of a canal where the rain- 
 water refreshed the small green frogs. At one 
 point, around the juncture of several alleys, were 
 sloping fountains where the wood-pigeons drank. 
 Having come to this spot we took a narrow path cut 
 in the underwood. 
 
 "Walk carefully," said Monsieur d'Astarac. 
 "This path is dangerous, for it is bordered with 
 mandragoras who sing at nightfall at the foot of 
 the trees. They are hidden in the ground. Take 
 care not to step on them, you would either take a 
 love-sickness or a thirst for riches, and you would 
 be lost, for the passions inspired by the mandra- 
 gora are melancholy." 
 
 I asked him how we could possibly avoid this un- 
 seen danger. Monsieur d'Astarac replied that one 
 could escape it by divining it intuitively and not oth- 
 erwise. 
 
 "Anyway," he added, "this path is fateful." 
 
 It led straight to a brick cottage hidden in ivy, 
 which had doubtless once served as a keeper's lodge. 
 Here the park terminated on the monotonous 
 marshes of the Seine. 
 
 "You see this cottage," said Monsieur d'Astarac.
 
 82 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 "It has in its keeping the wisest of men. There it 
 is that Mosa'ide, now aged one hundred and twelve 
 years, penetrates with a persistency that has a maj- 
 esty of its own to the arcana of nature. He has 
 left Imbonatus * and Bartolini t far behind him. 
 I desired to honour myself by entertaining under 
 my roof the greatest of cabalists since Enoch the 
 son of Cain. But religious scruples prevent Mo- 
 saTde from sitting at my table which he holds for 
 Christian in which he does it too much honour. 
 You cannot conceive to what extremity of violence 
 this sage carries his hatred of Christians. It is un- 
 der great persuasion only that he consents to in- 
 habit this cottage where he lives alone with his 
 niece Jael. Messieurs, you must no longer 
 delay in making his acquaintance, and I will 
 present you both immediately to this inspired 
 being." 
 
 Having spoken thus, Monsieur d'Astarac pushed 
 us into the cottage and made us climb up a spiral 
 staircase to a room where, in the midst of scattered 
 manuscripts in a great winged chair, sat an aged 
 man, bright-eyed, hook-nosed, whose sloping chin 
 let fall two thin streamers of white beard. A vel- 
 vet cap, shaped like a cap of state, covered his 
 bald head, and his body so thin as to be scarcely hu- 
 man, was wrapped in an old yellow silk gown, splen- 
 did but soiled. 
 
 Although his piercing gaze was turned towards 
 us, he showed no sign of being aware of our ap- 
 proach. His face showed a painful stubbornness 
 
 Imbonatus (Jos.). His "Bibliotheca Latina-Hebraica" was pub- 
 lished at Rome 1694. 
 
 t Bartolini, Riccardo. B. Perugia I5th century. Controversy 
 with Pico della Mirandola.
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 83 
 
 and he twisted slowly between his wrinkled fingers 
 the reed which served him as a pen. 
 
 "Do not expect empty words from Mosaide," 
 said Monsieur d'Astarac. 
 
 "For many a long day this sage has discoursed 
 with no one save the Genii and myself. His dis- 
 course is sublime. As he will doubtless not consent 
 to converse with you, Messieurs, I will give you in 
 a few words an idea of his worth. Firstly, he has 
 penetrated to the spiritual meaning of the books of 
 Moses in accordance with the value of the Hebrew 
 characters, which depend on the order of the letters 
 in the alphabet. This order had been upset after 
 the eleventh letter. Mosaide has re-established it, 
 which Atrabis, Philo,* Avicenna,t Raymond Lul- 
 ly,J Pico della Mirandola, Reuchlin,|| Henry 
 More, and Robert Fludd were unable to do. Mo- 
 saide knows the golden number which corresponds 
 to Jehovah in the spirit-world. And you will un- 
 derstand, Messieurs, that that is of infinite im- 
 portance." 
 
 My good master drew his box from his pocket 
 and after offering it civilly to us inhaled a pinch of 
 snuff, and said: 
 
 "Do you not think, Monsieur d'Astarac, that 
 these attainments are extremely likely to guide you 
 to the devil at the end of this transitory life? For 
 this Seigneur Mosaide errs palpably in his interpre- 
 tation of Holy Writ. When Our Saviour died on 
 
 * Philo (surnamed the Jew). Philosopher, b. Alexandria, 20 B.C. 
 
 ( Avicenna. Arabic physician, 980-1037. 
 
 $Lully, Raymond. Spanish writer, alchemist, known as "Doctor 
 illuminatus," b. Parma, 1255-1315. 
 
 Mirandola, Giovanni Pico della. Italian scholar, wrote "De 
 omni re scibili," 1463-1494. 
 
 || Reuchlin, Johann. Savant, humanist, b. Pforzheim, 1455-1522.
 
 84 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 the Cross for the redemption of mankind, the syna- 
 gogue felt a bandage tighten over her eyes, she tot- 
 tered like a drunken woman, and her crown fell 
 from her head. Since then the interpretation of 
 the Old Testament has been relegated to the Cath- 
 olic Church, to which I belong notwithstanding my 
 multiple sins." 
 
 At these words Mosalde, looking like a Satyr, 
 smiled in a manner truly terrifying, and addressed 
 my good master in a slow grating far-away voice: 
 
 "The Mashora has not confided its secrets to 
 you, nor the Mischna * its mysteries." 
 
 "Mosai'de," continued Monsieur d'Astarac, "in- 
 terprets clearly not only the books of Moses but 
 that of Enoch, which is much more important, and 
 which for lack of understanding the Christians have 
 rejected, as the cock in the Arabian fable disdained 
 the pearl fallen in his food. This book of Enoch, 
 Monsieur 1'Abbe Coignard, is the more precious as 
 one finds therein the first dealings of the daughters 
 of men and the Sylphs. For you well understand 
 that these angels whom Enoch shows us as allying 
 themselves with women in amorous intercourse are 
 Sylphs and Salamanders." 
 
 "I am ready to understand it that way," replied 
 my good master, "so as not to annoy you. But by 
 what has been left to us of the book of Enoch, 
 which is visibly apocryphal, I suspect that those 
 angels were not Sylphs, but Phoenician merchants." 
 
 "And on what, may I ask, do you found such a 
 strange opinion?" said Monsieur d'Astarac. 
 
 "I found it, Monsieur, on this, that it says in this 
 book that it was the angels who taught to women 
 the usage of bracelets and necklaces, the art of 
 
 * Mashora and Mischna. Books of the Talmud.
 
 THF REINE PEDAUQUE 85 
 
 painting their eyebrows, and of using all kinds of 
 dyes. It is also recounted in this book that the an- 
 gels taught to the daughters of men the properties 
 of roots and trees, charms and the art of star- 
 gazing. In all good faith, Monsieur, have not 
 these angels rather the look of Tyrians or Sidon- 
 ians disembarking on some half-wild coast, and un- 
 doing at the foot of the rocks their corded bales to 
 tempt the daughters of the savage tribes? These 
 traffickers gave them collarettes of copper, amulets 
 and medicaments in exchange for amber, incense 
 and furs, and they amazed these handsome ignorant 
 creatures by their talk of the stars with a knowledge 
 gained in navigation. That is all quite straight- 
 forward, and I should like to know on what point 
 Monsieur Mosaide can gainsay it." 
 
 Mosai'de kept silence, and Monsieur d'Astarac 
 smiled once more. "Monsieur Coignard," said he 
 "you do not argue badly, ignorant as you are still of 
 gnosticism and cabalism. What you say makes me 
 think that there may have been some gnomes who 
 were metal-workers and goldsmiths among the 
 Sylphs who united themselves in love with the 
 daughters of men. Gnomes, in fact, readily busy 
 themselves with goldsmiths' work, and probably 
 ingenious demons wrought those bracelets you think 
 were of Phoenician manufacture. But you will suf- 
 fer some disadvantages, I warn you Monsieur, in 
 measuring yourself with Mosaide in the knowledge 
 of human antiquities. He has found remains 
 thought to be lost, among others the column of Seth 
 and the oracles of Sambethe, daughter of Noah, 
 and the most ancient of the Sibyls." 
 
 "Oh!" exclaimed my good master, bounding on 
 the dusty floor, whence arose a cloud of dust, "oh !
 
 86 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 
 
 what moonshine! It is too much of a good thing! 
 You are laughing at me. And Monsieur Mosaide 
 cannot house so many follies in his head under his 
 big cap, which looks like Charlemagne's crown. 
 This column of Seth is a ridiculous invention of that 
 thickhead Flavius-Josephus, an absurd tale which 
 has never yet deceived any one but you. As to the 
 predictions of Sambethe, the daughter of Noah, I 
 should be very curious to know them, and Monsieur 
 Mosaide, who seems sparing enough of his words, 
 would oblige me greatly by giving us a few by word 
 of mouth, for it is not possible for him, I am glad 
 to see, to utter them by the more hidden way 
 through which the ancient Sibyls were accustomed 
 to give utterance to their mysterious replies." 
 
 Mosaide, who appeared not to have heard any- 
 thing, suddenly said: "The daughter of Noah has 
 spoken; Sambethe has said: 'The foolish man who 
 laughs and mocks shall not hear the voice coming 
 from the seventh tabernacle; and the impious shall 
 go wretchedly to his ruin.' " 
 
 On this utterance all three of us took leave of 
 Mosaide.
 
 XI 
 
 HAT year the summer was glorious, 
 whence came a wish to wander 
 afield. One day, as I strolled under 
 the trees of the Cours-la-Reine, with 
 two poor ecus that I had found that 
 morning in my breeches' pocket, and 
 which were the first visible sign so 
 far of my alchemist's munificence, I took a seat at the 
 door of a coffee-house at a table whose small size 
 befitted my solitude and my modesty, and there I fell 
 a-thinking of the oddness of my fate, while on either 
 side of me mousquetaires and gay ladies drank the 
 wine of Spain. I questioned whether the Cross of 
 Les Sablons, Monsieur d'Astarac, Mosaide, the 
 papyrus of Zozimus and my fine coat were not all 
 dreams from which I should awake to find myself 
 in dimity before the spit at the Reine Pedauque. 
 I came out of my dream on feeling myself pulled by 
 the sleeve. And I saw before me brother Ange, 
 whose face was lost between his cowl and his beard. 
 "Monsieur Jacques Menetrier," said he, in a low 
 voice, "a young lady who means you well awaits 
 you in her carriage on the road between the river 
 and the Porte de la Conference." 
 
 My heart beat loudly. Startled and charmed 
 with the adventure, I went immediately to the spot 
 indicated by the capuchin, walking nevertheless with 
 the measured step which seemed best to become me. 
 Arrived on the quay I saw a coach and a little white 
 hand on the edge of the door. 
 87
 
 88 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 The door opened on my approach, and I was ex- 
 tremely surprised to find Mam'selle Catherine in 
 the coach, in a rose-coloured satin dress, her head 
 covered with a hood, her blond hair intermingled 
 with the black lace. 
 
 Dumbfounded I hesitated at the step. 
 
 "Come in," she said, "and sit by me. Close the 
 door, I pray you. You must not be seen. A mo- 
 ment ago, in passing by the Cours, I saw you at 
 the coffee-house. I immediately sent the good 
 brother to fetch you. I engaged him for my lenten 
 practices, and I have kept him with me since, for in 
 whatever condition one may be placed, one must 
 cling to religion. You looked very well, Monsieur 
 Jacques, seated before your little table, your sword 
 across your knees, wearing the melancholy air of a 
 man of quality. I have always had a friendly feel- 
 ing for you, and I am not one of those women, who, 
 in prosperity, despise their former friends." 
 
 "Eh, what! Mam'selle Catherine," I exclaimed, 
 "this coach, these lackeys, this satin dress " 
 
 "All come," said she, "from the kindness of 
 Monsieur de la Gueritaude, who is in the Revenue 
 department, and is one of our richest financiers. 
 He has advanced money to the king. He is a good 
 friend, whom I would not vex for anything in the 
 world. But he is not as agreeable as you, Mon- 
 sieur Jacques. He has also given me a small house 
 at Crenelle, which I will show you one day from 
 attic to cellar. Monsieur Jacques, I am very 
 pleased to see you on the road to making your for- 
 tune. You shall see my bedroom, which is a copy 
 of that of Mademoiselle Davilliers. It is all mir- 
 rors and china ornaments. How is your good fa- 
 ther? Between ourselves, he neglected his wife
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 89 
 
 and his cook-shop a little. It is exceedingly wrong 
 in a man of his position. But let us talk of you." 
 
 "Let us talk of you, Mam'selle Catherine," said 
 I at last. "You are very pretty, and it is a great 
 pity that you are so very fond of capuchins. For 
 one must forgive you your Farmers-general." 
 
 "Oh," she said, "do not reproach me with 
 brother Ange. I only keep him for my soul's good, 
 and if I gave Monsieur de la Gueritaude a rival it 
 would be " 
 
 "It would be?" 
 
 "Do not ask me, Monsieur Jacques. You are 
 ungrateful. For you know I always singled you 
 out. But you took no notice of it." 
 
 "On the contrary, I was alive to your mockery, 
 Mam'selle Catherine. You made me ashamed of 
 my beardless chin. You told me many a time that I 
 was a little stupid." 
 
 " 'Twas true, Monsieur Jacques, truer than you 
 thought. Why did you not guess that I meant you 
 well?" 
 
 "And you, Catherine, why were you so intimi- 
 datingly pretty? I dared not look at you. And 
 then I saw one day that you were downright vexed 
 with me." 
 
 "I had reason to be so, Monsieur Jacques. You 
 preferred that Savoyarde with her handkerchief 
 round her head, the very dregs of the Port St. 
 Nicholas." 
 
 "Oh, do believe, Catherine, that it was neither 
 taste nor inclination, but merely because she took 
 strong means to conquer my bashfulness." 
 
 "Ah, my friend, believe me who am your senior, 
 bashfulness is a great sin against love. But could 
 you not see that beggar had holes in her stockings
 
 90 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 and a flounce of mud and dirt half an ell wide at 
 the hem of her skirt?" 
 
 "I saw it, Catherine." 
 
 "Did you not see, Jacques, that she was badly 
 made, and what's worse, positively deformed?" 
 
 "I saw it, Catherine." 
 
 "You could actually love that beggar of a Sa- 
 voyarde, you with your fair skin and distinguished 
 manners." 
 
 "I cannot understand it myself, Catherine. It 
 must have been that at the time my fancy was full of 
 you. And if the mere thought of you gave me the 
 hardihood and courage with which you reproach me 
 to-day, judge of my transports, Catherine, if I had 
 held you in my arms, or even a girl a little like you. 
 For I loved you dearly." 
 
 She took my hand and sighed. I continued in a 
 melancholy tone: "Yes, I loved you, Catherine, 
 and I should love you still were it not for that dis- 
 gusting monk." 
 
 She defended herself: 
 
 "What a suspicion. You make me cross. It is 
 absurd." 
 
 "You do not love capuchins?" 
 
 "Fie!" 
 
 Not considering it opportune to press her too 
 closely on the subject, I took her by the waist, we 
 kissed one another, our lips met, and I felt my 
 whole being dissolve in delight. After a moment 
 of delicious abandon, she disengaged herself, her 
 cheeks pink, eyes dewy and lips half-open. From 
 that moment I have known how much a woman is 
 beautified and adorned by the kisses one puts on her 
 lips. Mine had made roses of the most delicate
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 91 
 
 tint bloom on Catherine's cheeks, and drowned the 
 blue flower of her eyes in sparkling dew. 
 
 "You are a child," she said, replacing her hood. 
 "Go along with you, You must not stay a moment 
 longer. Monsieur de la Gueritaude will be here 
 directly. He loves me with an impatience that is 
 apt to forestall the hour of the appointment." 
 
 Then reading on my face the disappointment I 
 felt, she pursued with tender vivacity: 
 
 "But listen, Jacques: he goes home every evening 
 at nine o'clock to his old wife, who has become 
 peevish with years, and no longer permits his infi- 
 delities now that she is beyond the possibility of 
 paying them back. Her jealousy has become some- 
 thing terrible. Come at half-past nine to-night. I 
 will receive you. My house is at the corner of the 
 Rue du Bac. You will know it by its three win- 
 dows on every floor and its rose-covered balcony. 
 You know I have always loved flowers. Till to- 
 night." 
 
 She put me from her with caressing gesture 
 wherein she seemed to show her sorrow that I might 
 not stay; then, finger on lips, she whispered once 
 more: 
 
 "Till to-night."
 
 XII 
 
 DO not know how I managed to tear 
 myself away from Catherine's arms. 
 But it is certain that, in jumping out 
 of the coach I nearly fell over Mon- 
 sieur d'Astarac whose tall figure was 
 planted like a tree on the edge of the 
 path. I saluted him politely and 
 evinced my surprise at so happy a chance. 
 
 "Chance," said he, "diminishes in proportion as 
 knowledge is augmented: for me it does not exist. 
 I knew, my son that I was to meet you here. I 
 must have an interview with you which has been too 
 long deferred. Let us, if you please, go in search 
 of that solitude and silence necessary to the speech 
 I wish to have with you. Do not look anxious. 
 The mysteries that I shall unveil to you are sub- 
 lime, it is true, but of a pleasing nature." 
 
 Having thus spoken he led me to the banks of 
 the Seine hard by the Isle of Swans, which lifted 
 itself in mid-stream like a leafy barque. There he 
 signalled the ferry-man whose shallop bore us to 
 the verdant isle, frequented only by a few pension- 
 ers who on fine days played at bowls and drank 
 their glass of beer. Night lit her first stars in the 
 sky and gave voice to the insects in the grass. The 
 isle was deserted. Monsieur d'Astarac sat down 
 on a wooden bench in a clearing at the end of a 
 grove of walnuts, invited me to sit down by him 
 and spoke in these words: 
 
 "There are three kinds of people, my son, from 
 92
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 93 
 
 whom the philosopher must hide his secrets. They 
 are princes, because it would not be prudent to add 
 to their might; the ambitious, whose pitiless driv- 
 ing power wants no re-inforcement; and the de- 
 bauched, who would find in the hidden knowledge 
 the means of glutting their worst passions. But I 
 may bare my mind to you who are neither de- 
 bauched, for I think nothing of the slip whereby 
 a moment ago you fell into the arms of 
 that young woman, nor ambitious, having lived 
 till now content to turn the paternal spit. I can 
 then without fear unfold to you the hidden 
 laws of the universe. You must not suppose 
 that life is confined within the narrow condition 
 in which it manifests itself to vulgar eyes. When 
 they teach that creation had man for end and 
 object, your theologians and philosophers reason 
 like the ground-lice in Versailles, or the Tuileries, 
 who believe that the damp cellars are made for 
 them, and that the rest of the chateau is quite unin- 
 habitable. The solar system, taught by the canon 
 Copernicus in the last century, following Aristar- 
 chus of Samos and the Pythagorean philosophers 
 is, no doubt, known to you, for they have even 
 made abridgements of it for the use of urchins at 
 schools and dialogues for the chatterboxes in town. 
 You have seen an instrument at my house which 
 demonstrates it perfectly by means of a clock-work 
 movement. Look up, my son, and see above your 
 head the chariot of David drawn by Mizar and his 
 two illustrious companions turning round the Pole, 
 Arcturus, Vega in Lyra, Spica in Virgo, Ariadne's 
 crown and its lovely pearl. 
 
 "These are suns. One glance at the world will 
 show you that all creation is a work of fire and that
 
 94 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 life under its highest forms must be nourished by 
 flame. 
 
 "And what are the planets? Specks of mud, a 
 little scum and ferment. Contemplate the stately 
 choir of the stars, this gathering of suns. They 
 equal or surpass our own in grandeur and in power, 
 and when, some clear winter night, I show you 
 Sirius through my glass, your eyes and your soul 
 will be dazzled. 
 
 "Can you really, believe that Sirius, Altair, Reg- 
 ulus, Aldebaran, all these suns indeed, are merely 
 luminaries? Can you believe that old Phoebus, 
 who pours incessantly through space, wherein we 
 swim, his immeasurable floods of heat and light, 
 has no other function than to illuminate the earth 
 and a few other imperceptible and contemptible 
 planets? What a candle! A million time bigger 
 than the house ! 
 
 "I have been obliged to give you the idea to start 
 with that the Universe is composed of suns, and 
 that the planets that may be found there are less 
 than nothing. But I foresee that you would raise 
 an objection, and I will reply to it. These suns you 
 were going to say burn out in the course of ages 
 and become as dirt in their turn. 
 
 "Not so! I reply, for they are sustained by the 
 comets that they draw to them and which fall into 
 them. They are the habitation of the real life. 
 The planets and this earth in which we live are but 
 the dwelling-places of larvae. Such are the truths 
 which you must first absorb. 
 
 "Now that you understand, my son, that fire ex- 
 cels every other element, you will better grasp what 
 I am about to explain to you, which is of more im- 
 portance than anything you have learnt up to now
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 95 
 
 and even more than was ever known to Erasmus, 
 Turnebus, and Scaliger. I will not refer to theo- 
 logians like Quesnel * or Bossuet, who, between our 
 selves, are but of the dregs of humanity's intelli- 
 gence, and have scarcely more understanding than a 
 captain of horse. We will not lose time in despis- 
 ing such brains comparable in size and contents to 
 wren's eggs, and we will come at once to the sub- 
 ject of my talk. 
 
 "Whereas creatures formed of clay do not sur- 
 pass in beauty of form the degree of perfection at- 
 tained by Antinous and Madame de Parabere, and 
 the faculty of knowledge attained only by Democri- 
 tus and myself, beings formed of fire enjoy a wis- 
 dom and an understanding whose range it is impos- 
 sible for us to compass. 
 
 "Such, my son, is the nature of the glorious chil- 
 dren of the suns, they are masters of the laws of 
 the universe, as we of the rules of chess, and the 
 course of the stars in heaven puzzles them no more 
 than the movement on the chess-board of king, 
 rook, and bishop, trouble us. These Genii create 
 worlds in corners of space where they were not to 
 be found before, and organise them to their lik- 
 ing. It affords them a momentary distraction from 
 their chief business which is to mate, one with an- 
 other, in ineffable love. Yesterday I turned my 
 glass on the sign of Virgo and there I observed a 
 distant vortex of light. No doubt, my son, but 
 that it was the still unformed work of these beings 
 of fire. 
 
 "Truth to tell the universe has no other origin. 
 Far from being the result of a single will, it is the 
 
 * Quesnel, Pasquier. Jansenist theologian, b. Par's. His writ- 
 ings provoked the Bull "Unigenitus." 1634-1719.
 
 96 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 result of a sublime caprice of a great number of 
 Genii who have found recreation each in his good 
 time and in his own way. So may we explain the 
 diversity, the magnificence and the imperfection. 
 For the powers and the clairvoyance of these Genii, 
 though immense, have limits. I should deceive you 
 did I say that a man, were he philosopher and mage, 
 could enter into familiar intercourse with them. 
 No one of them has ever manifested himself to me 
 and all that I tell you of them is known to me but 
 by induction and hearsay. Therefore, although 
 their existence is certain I should go too far were I 
 to describe to you their ways and their character. 
 We must know our own ignorance, my son, and I 
 pride myself on advancing but fully observed facts. 
 We will then leave these Genii, or rather these 
 Demiurges to their distant glories and come to the 
 illustrious beings who concern us more nearly. 
 And it is at this point, my son, that you must lend 
 your ear. 
 
 "Speaking to you a moment ago of the planets, if 
 I gave way to a sentiment of disdain it was because 
 I was merely considering the skin and surface of 
 these little balls or tops and the animals which 
 scramble dismally thereon. I should have used an- 
 other tone if my mind had contemplated along with 
 the planets, the air and vapour which envelops 
 them. For air is an element which only cedes to 
 fire in nobility, whence it follows that the dignity 
 and illustriousness of planets is in the air which 
 bathes them. These mists, these clinging vapours, 
 these zephyrs, these waves of blue, these moving 
 isles of purple and gold, which pass above our 
 heads, are the home of a worshipful race. We call 
 them Sylphs and Salamanders. They are creatures
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 97 
 
 of infinite sweetness and beauty. It is possible, 
 and it is fitting for us to form with them unions, 
 whose delights cannot be dreamt of. Salamanders 
 are of such a kind that beside them the prettiest 
 person in town or at court is but a repulsive mon- 
 key. They yield themselves willing to philosophers. 
 You have no doubt heard tell of the wondrous 
 being by whom Monsieur Descartes was accom- 
 panied on his travels. Some said it was a natural 
 daughter he took everywhere with him, others 
 thought it was an automaton that he had made 
 with inimitable art. In reality it was a Salamander 
 that this able man had taken for his lady-love. He 
 never left her. On one of his passages in the 
 Dutch seas he took her on board shut in a box of 
 precious wood lined with satin. The shape of this 
 box and the precautions with which Monsieur Des- 
 cartes handled it drew the attention of the captain, 
 who, when Monsieur Descartes was asleep, lifted 
 the lid and discovered the Salamander. This ig- 
 norant and coarse man thought that so marvel- 
 lous a being must be the devil's handiwork. For 
 very fear, he threw her in the sea. But as you can 
 well believe the beautiful creature was not drowned 
 and it was easy for her to rejoin her good friend 
 Monsieur Descartes. She remained faithful to him 
 as long as he lived, and on his death left this earth 
 never to return. 
 
 "I cite this example among many others to ac- 
 quaint you with the love of philosopher and Sala- 
 mander. This love is too sublime to be subjected 
 to contracts, and you will agree that the ridiculous 
 farrago and apparatus of our marriage would not 
 be the right thing in such unions. Truly, it would 
 be a pretty thing if a bewigged notary and a fat
 
 98 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 cure were to put their noses into it ! These gentle- 
 men are fit only to set the seal to the vulgar union 
 of man and woman. The hymeneals of Salaman- 
 der and sage are borne witness to in more august 
 fashion. They are celebrated by the aerial peo- 
 ples in aery navies, which, borne on gentle zephyrs, 
 glide on invisible waves to the sound of harps, their 
 poops bedecked with roses. But do not run away 
 with the notion that because they are not inscribed 
 in a thumbed register in a dirty sacristy such troth 
 is not enduring, or may be broken with facility. 
 The Spirits are its sureties, who sport among the 
 clouds, whence flashes the lightning and bursts the 
 thunder. I make revelations which will be of use 
 to you, my son, for I have already recognised by 
 indications not to be mistaken that you are destined 
 for the bed of a Salamander." 
 
 "Alas! Monsieur," I cried, "this destiny ter- 
 rifies me, and my scruples on the subject are nearly 
 as great as those of the Dutch captain who threw 
 Monsieur Descartes's pretty friend into the sea. I 
 cannot help thinking as did he that these aerial 
 ladies are demons! I should fear to lose my soul 
 for them, for, in fine, Monsieur, such marriages are 
 contrary to nature, and opposed to divine law. 
 Would that Monsieur Jerome Coignard, my good 
 master, could hear you ! I am quite certain that he 
 would uphold me with good arguments against the 
 seductions of your Salamanders, and against your 
 eloquence." 
 
 "Abbe Coignard," said Monsieur d'Astarac, 
 "translates Greek admirably. Let him stick to his 
 books. He is no philosopher. As for you, my 
 son, you argue with the feebleness of ignorance, 
 and the weakness of your arguments afflicts me.
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 99 
 
 These unions you say are contrary to nature. 
 What do you know about it? And what means can 
 you have of knowing about it? How is it possible 
 to distinguish what is natural from what is not? 
 Do we know enough of universal Isis to discern what 
 is in accord with her and what runs counter to her? 
 But let us put it better; nothing runs counter to her, 
 and all is in accord, for nothing exists which does 
 not enter into the play of her organism nor follow 
 the innumerable poses of her body. Whence, I ask 
 you, could enemies come who would offend her? 
 Nothing acts against her or without her, and forces 
 that seem to work against her are but manifesta- 
 tions of her own life. 
 
 "Only the ignorant can have sufficient assurance 
 to say whether an action be natural or not. But 
 let us for a moment enter into their point of view 
 and their prejudice, and pretend to allow that it is 
 possible to commit acts against nature. Will these 
 acts on that account be bad, or must they be con- 
 demned? I am prepared to hear on this point the 
 common opinion of moralists who represent virtue 
 as a restraint on instincts, an effort against the in- 
 clination that we all have in us, a struggle in fact 
 against the original man. By their own showing 
 virtue is contrary to nature, and from this it pro- 
 ceeds that they cannot condemn an action, whatever 
 it may be, for what it has in common with virtue. 
 
 "I have made this digression, my son, to the end 
 that I might show you the pitiable frivolity of your 
 arguments. I cannot insult you by believing that 
 you have any remaining doubts on the innocence of 
 the carnal intercourse that men may hold with Sala- 
 manders. Know henceforth, that far from being 
 forbidden by the laws of religion, such marriages
 
 ioo AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 are ordained by that law to the exclusion of all 
 others. I will now give you manifest proof." 
 
 He stopped speaking, took his box from his 
 pocket, and helped his nose to a pinch of snuff. 
 
 Night had fallen. The moon shed her liquid 
 light on the river which shimmered beneath it, 
 touched too with the glancing light of the lamps. 
 Flights of gnats swarmed round us in airy spirals. 
 Shrill insect voices rose amid the universal silence. 
 Such sweetness fell from heaven that the starlight 
 seemed to be suffused with milk. 
 
 Monsieur d'Astarac continued in this wise : 
 
 "The Bible, my son, and principally the books of 
 Moses contain great and useful truths. This opin- 
 ion seems absurd and unreasonable in consequence 
 of the treatment that theologians have meted out 
 to what they call the Scripture, which by their 
 commentaries, explanations, and meditations, they 
 have made a manual of mistakes, a volume of ab- 
 surdities, a storehouse of imbecilities, a collection 
 of lies, a string of follies, a school of ignorance, a 
 treasury of everything inept, and the lumber-room 
 for all stupidity and wickedness. You must know 
 that it was in its origin a temple of celestial light. 
 
 "I have been fortunate enough to re-establish it 
 in pristine splendour. And truth compels me to 
 state that Mosaide has greatly helped me by his 
 understanding of the language and alphabet of the 
 Hebrews. But do not let us lose sight of our main 
 subject. Learn, first of all, that the meaning of 
 the Bible is figurative, and that the chief error of 
 theologians has been to take literally what must be 
 understood as symbolical. Bear that truth in mind 
 throughout the rest of my discourse. 
 
 "When the Demiurge we call Jehovah, who also
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 101 
 
 possesses many other names since we apply to him 
 generally all the terms expressing quantity and 
 quality, had, I do not say created the world, for 
 that would be a foolish thing to say, but made 
 straight a little corner of the universe to make a 
 dwelling-place for Adam and Eve, there were to be 
 found in space creatures of a subtle nature which 
 Jehovah had not formed would have been inca- 
 pable of forming. They were the work of various 
 other Demiurges more ancient than he and more 
 cunning. His artifice did not yet go beyond that 
 of a very able potter capable of moulding beings, 
 such as we are, in clay, as you fashion pots. What 
 I say of him is not to depreciate him, for such a 
 work is still far beyond human power. 
 
 "But one cannot fail to notice the inferior quality 
 of the work of the seven days. Jehovah worked, 
 not in fire which alone gives birth to master-pieces 
 of life, but in clay wherefrom he could produce but 
 the handiwork of a clever ceramist. We are 
 nothing, my son, but animated pottery. One can- 
 not reproach Jehovah with having any illusions about 
 his work. If he found it good at first and in the 
 ardour of composition, he was not slow in recognis- 
 ing his error, and the Bible is full of the expression 
 of his discontent, which often grew to ill-humour 
 and sometimes even to anger. Never did artisan 
 treat objects produced by his industry with more 
 disgust and aversion. He thought of destroying 
 them and indeed he drowned the greater part of 
 them. The deluge, the memory of which has been 
 proved a last deception for the unhappy Demiurge 
 preserved by the Jews, the Greeks, and the Chinese, 
 who, soon recognising the uselessness and ridicu- 
 lousness of such violence, fell into discouragement
 
 102 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 and apathy, which has not ceased since the day of 
 Noah but has progressed to the extreme degree 
 of the present day. But I see I look too far ahead. 
 It is the drawback of these vast subjects that one 
 cannot confine oneself to them. Our mind aban- 
 doning itself in them acts like the children of the 
 stars who pass at one bound from universe to uni- 
 verse. 
 
 "Let us return to the earthly paradise where the 
 Demiurge had placed the two vessels shaped by his 
 hand: Adam and Eve. They did not live alone 
 there among the animals and plants. Spirits of air 
 created by the Demiurges of the fire floated above 
 them, and looked on them with curiosity mingled 
 with sympathy and pity. It was just what Jehovah 
 had foreseen. To his praise let it be said he had 
 reckoned on the Genii of the fire, to whom we can 
 henceforth give real names of Elves and Salaman- 
 ders, to improve and complete his little figures of 
 clay. He had said to himself in his prudence, 'My 
 Adam and Eve, opaque, and sealed in clay, lack air 
 and light. I did not know how to give them wings. 
 But by uniting themselves with Elves and Salaman- 
 ders created by a Demiurge more powerful and 
 subtle than I, they will give birth to children who 
 will derive from the people of light, as well as 
 from the race of clay, and will bear in their turn 
 children more luminous than themselves, until at 
 last their posterity shall nearly equal in beauty the 
 sons and the daughters of air and fire.' 
 
 "Truly he had neglected nothing to draw the 
 attention of the Sylphs and Salamanders to his 
 Adam and Eve. He had modelled the woman to 
 the shape of an amphora with a harmony of curved 
 lines which sufficed to show him a prince of Geom-
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 103 
 
 eters, and he succeeded in redeeming the coarse- 
 ness of the material by the magnificence of the 
 form. Adam he had moulded with a hand less 
 light but firmer, shaping his body with such just- 
 ness and according to such perfect proportions that, 
 applied later by the Greeks to architecture, these 
 lines and measurements made all the beauty of their 
 temples. 
 
 "So you see, my son, Jehovah tried according to 
 his powers to render his creatures worthy of the 
 ethereal embrace he hoped for them. I lay no 
 stress on the pains he took to make these unions 
 fruitful. The economy of the sexes bears sufficient 
 witness to his wisdom in this respect. And at first 
 he could congratulate himself on his cunning and 
 address. I have said that the Sylphs and Salaman- 
 ders looked on Adam and Eve with that curiosity, 
 that sympathy, and that tenderness which are the 
 first ingredients of love. They drew near, and were 
 taken in the cunning snares which Jehovah had set, 
 and spread for them in and on the bellying bodies 
 of the amphorae. The first man and the first woman 
 enjoyed during centuries the delectable embraces 
 of the Genii of the air, which preserved them in 
 eternal youth. 
 
 "Such was their lot, such should be ours. Why 
 did the parents of the human race, tired of these 
 sublime delights, seek illicit pleasure the one with 
 the other? But what would you have, my son? 
 Moulded in clay, they loved the mud whence they 
 came. Alas ! they knew one another, even as they 
 had known the Genii. 
 
 "This is what the Demiurge had expressly for- 
 bidden them. Dreading, and with reason, that 
 they would produce children heavy, dull, and earth-
 
 io 4 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 bound, as themselves, he had forbidden them, under 
 strictest penalty, to approach one another. It is 
 the meaning of those words of Eve's: '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 can well under- 
 stand, my son, the apple which tempted the luckless 
 Eve was not the fruit of the apple-tree, and therein 
 lies an allegory whose meaning I have explained to 
 you. Although imperfect, and sometimes violent 
 and capricious Jehovah was a Demiurge, and too 
 intelligent to vex himself about an apple or a pome- 
 granate. To uphold such extravagant imaginings 
 one must be a bishop or a capuchin. And the 
 proof that the apple was what I have said it was is 
 that Eve was visited with the punishment suited 
 to her fault. 
 
 "It was not said to her, 'In sorrow shalt thou 
 eat of it,' but: 'In sorrow thou shalt bring forth.' 
 Now what connection, I ask you, can there be be- 
 tween an apple and the pains of child-birth? On 
 the contrary, the punishment is exactly fitted if the 
 fault were such as I have explained it. 
 
 "There, my son, is the true explanation of orig- 
 inal sin. It teaches you your duty, which is to 
 keep away from women. The fondness which 
 draws you to them is fatal. All children born in 
 this fashion are foolish and wretched." 
 
 "But, Monsieur," I cried, stupefied, "is another 
 way then possible?" 
 
 "Happily," said he, "a great many are born from 
 the union of men with the Spirits of air. And 
 such are clever and beautiful. Thus were born the 
 giants spoken of by Hesiod and Moses. Thus was 
 born Pythagoras, whom the Salamander, his
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 105 
 
 mother, endowed with a golden thigh. Thus was 
 born Alexander the Great, said to be the son of 
 Olympias and a serpent. Scipio-Africanus, Aris- 
 tomenes of Messenia,* Julius Caesar, Porphyry,! the 
 emperor Julian who re-established the worship of 
 fire, abolished by Constantine the Apostate; Merlin 
 the Wizard, born of a Sylph and a nun, daughter 
 of Charlemagne; St. Thomas Aquinas, Paracelsus, 
 and more recently Monsieur Van Helmont." J 
 
 I promised Monsieur d'Astarac, as this was the 
 case, to lend myself to the advances of a Salaman- 
 der, could one be found so obliging as to wish for 
 me. He assured me I should not only find one, 
 but twenty or thirty, among whom I should have 
 but the difficulty of choosing. And less by desire 
 to put it to the test than to please him, I asked the 
 philosopher how it were possible to put oneself in 
 communication with these aerial beings. 
 
 "Nothing is easier," he replied. "It needs but 
 a crystal ball, whose use I will explain to you. I 
 keep by me a fairly large number of these balls, 
 and I will give you all the necessary directions be- 
 fore long in my study. But that is enough for to- 
 day." 
 
 He rose and moved to the boat, where the ferry- 
 man waited us, stretched on his back and snoring to 
 the moon. Once we had touched the bank he was 
 soon at a distance, and was quickly lost to sight in 
 the darkness. 
 
 * Aristomenes of Messenia. General, 7th century B.C. 
 
 t Porphyrius. Platonic philosopher, 234-304. 
 
 \Van Helmont, J. B. Flemish physician, b. Brussels, 1577-1644.
 
 XIII 
 
 HIS long interview left me the con- 
 fused feeling of a dream; I was 
 more alive to the thought of Cather- 
 ine. In spite of the sublimities that 
 I had been hearing I longed to see 
 her, and that although I had not 
 supped. I was not so penetrated 
 by the philosopher's notions that I was in any way 
 out of taste with this pretty girl. I was resolved 
 to push my good fortune to a finish before falling 
 to the possession of one of those handsome furies 
 of the air, who allowed no earthly rivals. My 
 dread was lest, at so late an hour of the night, 
 Catherine should be tired of waiting for me. 
 Making my way along the river and crossing the 
 Pont Royal at full speed, I rushed down the Rue 
 du Bac. A minute later I reached the Rue de 
 Crenelle, where I heard cries mingled with the clash 
 of swords. The noise came from the house Cath- 
 erine had described to me. There, on the pave- 
 ment, shadows and lanterns were flickering and 
 voices arose : 
 
 "Help! Jesus! They murder me! Have at 
 the monk. . . . Forrard on ! To him . . . Jesus 
 and Mary help! Look at the precious rascal! 
 Have at him! To him, boys, to him! Let him 
 have it!" 
 
 Windows opened in the surrounding houses and 
 showed heads bonnetted with night-caps. 
 
 All this tumult and rout passed suddenly across 
 106
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 107 
 
 me like a forest chase and I recognised brother 
 Ange who was making off with such speed that he 
 kicked himself with his sandalled feet as he ran, 
 while three great strapping lackeys armed like the 
 Swiss guard, pressing him close pricked his hide 
 with the points of their halberts. Their master, a 
 young gentleman, thick-set and red of face, ceased 
 not to encourage them with voice and gesture as 
 one sets on the hounds. 
 
 "To him! ... to him! . . . Strike home! . . . 
 He's a tough brute!" 
 
 When he was near me: 
 
 "Ah Monsieur," I said, "you have no pity!" 
 
 "Monsieur," he replied, "obviously it is not your 
 mistress this capuchin has caressed, and it was not 
 you who surprised Madame here in the arms of 
 this malodorous beast. Her financier is all very 
 well there are things that are understood. But 
 a monk is not to be endured. Look at the bold 
 impudent hussy." 
 
 And he showed me Catherine in her night-dress 
 in the doorway, her eyes glittering with tears, dis- 
 hevelled, wringing her hands, more beautiful than 
 I had ever seen her, and murmuring in a languish- 
 ing voice which cut me to the heart: 
 
 "Do not kill him! It is brother Ange, it is the 
 little brother." 
 
 The ruffianly lackeys came back announcing they 
 had given up the chase on seeing the watch, but not 
 without having first felt their pikes half a finger 
 deep in the back of the holy man. The night-caps 
 disappeared from the windows, which shut again, 
 and while the young lord talked with his men I 
 approached Catherine whose tears were drying on 
 her cheeks in the pretty creases of her smile.
 
 108 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 "The poor brother has escaped," she said. "But 
 I trembled for him. Men are terrible. When 
 they love you they will listen to nothing." 
 
 "Catherine," I replied rather piqued, "did you 
 ask me to come here merely to assist at your 
 friends' quarrels? Alas! I have no right to take 
 part in them." 
 
 "You would have, Monsieur Jacques, you would 
 have, if you wished." 
 
 "But," said I again, "you are the most sought- 
 after person in all Paris. You have never spoken 
 to me of this young gentleman." 
 
 "Neither did I think of him. He came by sur- 
 prise." 
 
 "And he surprised you with brother Ange." 
 
 "He thought he saw what did not exist. He is 
 so hot-headed and will not listen to reason." 
 
 Her night-dress, half open, showed amid its lace 
 a bosom full as a ripe fruit and flowering to a rose- 
 bud. I took her in my arms and covered her breast 
 with kisses. 
 
 "Heavens!" she cried, "and in the street too, be- 
 fore Monsieur d'Anquetil, who is looking at us!" 
 
 "Who is he? Monsieur d'Anquetil?" 
 
 "The murderer of brother Ange, pardi ! Who 
 else do you suppose?" 
 
 "Truly, Catherine, others are not needful; your 
 friends are gathered round you in sufficient force." 
 
 "Monsieur Jacques, I pray you do not insult 
 me!" 
 
 "I am not insulting you, Catherine, I acknowl- 
 edge your attractions, to which I do but wish to 
 pay the same homage as do so many others." 
 
 "Monsieur Jacques, what you say smells odiously 
 of your good father's cook-shop."
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 109 
 
 "You were formerly well content Mam'selle 
 Catherine, to smell that smoke." 
 
 "Fie, you villain! You mean wretch! To in- 
 sult a woman!" 
 
 As she began to screech and to get excited, Mon- 
 sieur d'Anquetil left his men and came to us, 
 pushed her into the house calling her a shameless 
 hussy and a good-for-nothing, followed her into the 
 passage and shut the door in my face.
 
 XIV 
 
 HE thought of Catherine filled my 
 mind during the whole week follow- 
 ing this unlucky adventure. Her 
 likeness shone on the leaves of the 
 folios over which I bent in the li- 
 brary beside my good master; so 
 much so that Photius, Olympi- 
 odorus, Fabricius and Vossius, spoke to me but of 
 a little lady in a lace night-gown. These visions 
 inclined me to idleness. But indulgent to others as 
 to himself Monsieur Jerome Coignard smiled be- 
 nevolently on my trouble and distraction. 
 
 "Jacques Tournebroche," the good man said to 
 me one day, "are you not struck by the variations 
 of the moral law throughout the ages? The books 
 gathered together in this admirable Astaracian li- 
 brary bear witness to man's uncertainty on this sub- 
 ject. If I offer some reflections thereon, my son, it 
 is to fix in your mind this sound and salutary 
 thought, that there is no good conduct outside re- 
 ligion, and that the maxims of the philosophers 
 who pretend to set up a code of natural morals are 
 but whim-whams and crotchets. The wherefore 
 for right conduct is not to be found in nature, who, 
 of herself, is indifferent, ignoring evil as well as 
 good. It is written in the Holy Scriptures that one 
 must not transgress, at least not without suitably 
 repenting afterwards. Human laws are founded 
 on utility, and that can be but apparent and illusive 
 utility, for one does not know instinctively what is 
 of use to man or what really befits him. And
 
 THE RHINE PEDAUQUE in 
 
 again, in our Code of Usage a good part of the 
 articles are born of prejudice alone. Upheld by 
 the threat of punishment human laws may be eluded 
 by ruse and dissimulation. Every man capable of 
 thought is above them. They are in fact but snares 
 for the foolish. 
 
 "Such is not the case my son, with divine laws. 
 These latter are imprescriptible, ineluctable, and 
 stable. Their absurdity is but apparent, and hides 
 a wisdom we cannot grasp. If they offend our 
 reason it is because they are superior to it and be- 
 cause they accord with the true ends of man and not 
 with the ends which are apparent to him. It is 
 well to observe them when one is fortunate enough 
 to recognise them. At the same time I make no 
 difficulty about confessing that the observation of 
 these laws contained in the Decalogue and in the 
 commandments of the church, is difficult at most 
 times, and even impossible without grace, which is 
 often delayed, since it is our duty to long for it. 
 Hence we are all miserable sinners. 
 
 "And here it is indeed that we should admire the 
 system of the Christian faith, which bases salva- 
 tion principally upon repentance. It is to be ob- 
 served, my son, that the greatest saints were the 
 penitents, and as repentance is in proportion to the 
 fault, in the greatest sinners is found the stuff of the 
 greatest saints. I could illustrate this doctrine with 
 a great number of admirable examples, but I have 
 said enough to make you understand that the pri- 
 mary substance of saintliness is concupiscence, in- 
 continence, every impurity of the flesh and spirit. 
 It needs but, having collected your material to- 
 gether, to work it up according to the theological 
 art, to shape it, so to speak, into the form of re-
 
 ii2 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 pentance, which is the affair of years, of days, and 
 sometimes even of a single moment, as may be seen 
 in the case of perfect contrition. Jacques Tourne- 
 broche, if you have well understood me, you will 
 not wear yourself out in wretched efforts to become 
 an honest man according to the way of the world, 
 but you will apply yourself solely to the satisfying 
 of divine justice." 
 
 I did not fail to recognise the great wisdom en- 
 shrined in the maxims of my good master. I only 
 feared that this morality, were it followed without 
 discrimination would bring upon men the worst dis- 
 orders. I shared my doubts with Monsieur Je- 
 rome Coignard who reassured me as follows: 
 
 "Jacobus Tournebroche, you take no notice of 
 what I have just particularly told you, to wit, that 
 what you call disorders are such in fact only in the 
 opinion of lawyers and judges whether civil or eccle- 
 siastical, and in reference to human laws which are 
 arbitrary and transitory, and, in a word, that to live 
 according to these laws is the mark of a sheepish in- 
 telligence. A man of parts does not pride himself 
 on acting according to the laws in force at the 
 Chatelet and under the eye of the judge. He only 
 concerns himself with the salvation of his soul, and 
 he does not think himself dishonoured if he gets to 
 heaven by some one of the crooked paths followed 
 by the greatest saints. If the blessed Pelagia had 
 not practiced the profession by which you know 
 Jeannette the viol-player gains her livelihood under 
 the porch of St. Benoit-le-Betourne, that saint 
 would not have had occasion for her full and ample 
 repentance, and it is extremely probable that, after 
 having lived as a matron in average and common- 
 place goodness, she would not at this moment be
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 113 
 
 playing the psaltery before the tabernacle where 
 the Holy of Holies rests in glory. Do you call so 
 beautiful a dispensation of a predestinated life, dis- 
 order? Not so. Let us leave such base figures of 
 speech to Monsieur the lieutenant of police, who 
 after death will not perhaps find the meanest place 
 behind the wretched women he drags ignominiously 
 to-day to the reformatory. Save the loss of one's 
 soul and eternal damnation, there should be no dis- 
 order nor crime nor any evil in this perishable 
 world, where everything should be adjusted and 
 governed with an eye to the world to come. Ad- 
 mit, then, Tournebroche my son, that acts the most 
 reprehensible in man's opinion may lead to a good 
 end, and do not try to reconcile the justice of men 
 with that of God, which alone is just, not indeed to 
 our perceptions but in very surety. For the mo- 
 ment you will oblige me, my son, by looking up in 
 Vossius the meaning of five or six obscure terms 
 employed by the Panopolitan with whom one must 
 wrestle in the darkness, in the insidious manner 
 which dismayed even the great heart of Ajax, ac- 
 cording to Homer, prince of poets and historians. 
 These old alchemists had a rough-hewn style; 
 Manilius, if Monsieur d'Astarac does not mind my 
 saying so, wrote on these same subjects with more 
 elegance." 
 
 My good master had scarcely uttered these last 
 words when a shadow rose between us. It was 
 that of Monsieur d'Astarac, or rather it was Mon- 
 sieur d'Astarac himself, thin and black as a 
 shadow. 
 
 Whether he had not overheard the conversa- 
 tion, or whether he disdained to notice it, he 
 showed no resentment; on the contrary, he congrat-
 
 ii 4 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 ulated Monsieur Jerome Coignard on his zeal and 
 knowledge, and he added that he counted on his 
 insight for the completion of the greatest work 
 ever undertaken by man. Then turning to me, he 
 said: 
 
 "My son, I beg you to come down to my study 
 for a moment, where I wish to communicate to you 
 a secret of some importance." 
 
 I followed him into the room where he had first 
 received us, my good master and me, the day he 
 took us into his service. I found once again the 
 old Egyptians with their gilded faces standing 
 against the walls. A glass globe the size of a 
 pumpkin stood on the table. Monsieur d'Astarac 
 let himself drop on to a sofa and signed to me to 
 sit down in /front of him, and having passed his 
 hand, laden with precious stones and amulets, 
 across his brow, said: 
 
 "My son, I do not do you the injustice of think- 
 ing that after our interview on the Isle of Swans 
 any doubt can remain to you as to the existence of 
 Sylphs and Salamanders, which is just as real as 
 that of men, and even much more so if one counts 
 its reality by the duration of the apparitions 
 through which it shows itself, for their life is far 
 longer than ours. Salamanders carry their un- 
 changeable youth from century to century; some of 
 them have seen Noah, Menes * and Pythagoras. 
 The plenitude of their remembrances and the 
 freshness of their memory make their conversation 
 extremely attractive. It has been imagined that 
 they acquired their immortality in the arms of mor- 
 tals, and that the hope of avoiding death drew 
 them to the couch of philosophers. But these are 
 
 * Menes. Legendary first king of Egypt.
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 115 
 
 falsehoods which cannot deceive a reflective mind. 
 Every union of the sexes, far from assuring immor- 
 tality to lovers, is an evidence of death, and we 
 should never know love were we destined to live 
 for ever. It cannot be otherwise for the Salaman- 
 ders, who seek in the arms of the sages but one 
 kind of immortality that of the race. It is also 
 the only one that it is reasonable to hope for. 
 And although I have promised myself, with the 
 help of science, notably to prolong human life, and 
 to spread it over five or six centuries at least, I 
 have never flattered myself that I could ensure its 
 duration indefinitely. It would be insensate to 
 combat the natural law. Reject, my son, as vain 
 tales, the idea of immortality drawn from a kiss. 
 It is the shame of various cabalists ever to have 
 thought such a thing. It is none the less true that 
 Salamanders are inclined to the love of man. You 
 will have experience of it without delay. I have 
 sufficiently prepared you for their visit and since 
 you have had, from the night of your initiation, no 
 impure dealings with women, you shall now receive 
 the reward of your continence." 
 
 My candid nature suffered uneasily a praise I 
 merited only in spite of myself, and I thought of 
 owning my culpable desires to Monsieur d'Astarac. 
 But he left me not time to confess, and continued 
 with vivacity: 
 
 "There only remains to give you the key, my son, 
 which will open to you the kingdom of the Genii. 
 And I will do it straight away." 
 
 And getting up he put his hand on the globe 
 which occupied half the table. 
 
 "This ball," he said, "is full of star dust which 
 escapes your sight by its very purity. For it is far
 
 n6 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 too rare to be palpable to the gross sense of man. 
 So it is, my son, that the more beautiful side of the 
 universe hides itself from our vision, and only re- 
 veals itself to the savant who is furnished with the 
 apparatus proper to discover it. The rivers and 
 the plains of the air, for instance, remain invisible 
 to you, though in reality they are a thousand times 
 more rich and varied in aspect than those of the 
 most beautiful of earthly landscapes. 
 
 "Know then that in this globe there is a star dust 
 of sovereign property to exalt the fire that is within 
 us. And the effect of the exaltation makes itself 
 felt at once. It consists in a sublety of the senses 
 which allows us to see and to touch the aerial 
 shapes floating round about us. As soon as you 
 have broken the seal which closes the opening of this 
 globe, and inhaled the star dust which will escape 
 therefrom, you will find in this room one or more 
 creatures like to women in the system of curved 
 lines which form their bodies, but far more beauti- 
 ful than ever woman was, and who are, in truth, 
 Salamanders. There is no doubt that the one 
 which I saw last year in your father's cook-shop 
 will appear to you first, for she has a liking for you, 
 and I would advise you to satisfy her desires as 
 soon as possible. So sit down comfortably in this 
 armchair before the table, unseal the globe, and in- 
 hale its contents gently. You will soon see all that 
 I have described to you take shape by degrees. I 
 will now leave you. Farewell." 
 
 And he disappeared after his fashion, which was 
 strangely sudden. I remained alone, before this 
 globe of glass, hesitating to uncork it for fear 
 that some stupefying exhalation should escape. I 
 thought that perhaps Monsieur d'Astarac might
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 117 
 
 have introduced therein, according to his art, some 
 vapour which should send to sleep those who 
 breathed it and set them dreaming of Salamanders. 
 I was not yet philosopher enough to care to be 
 happy in such fashion. Perhaps, I said to myself, 
 these fumes induce madness. In fact I was dis- 
 trustful enough to think for a moment of going to 
 the library to ask advice of my good master, Mon- 
 sieur 1'Abbe Coignard. But I recognised immedi- 
 ately that it would be taking useless trouble. As 
 soon as he heard me speak, I told myself, of star 
 dust and Genii of the air, he would reply, "Jacques 
 Tournebroche, my son, be mindful never to put 
 faith in absurdities, but to bring everything to the 
 test of your reason save in the matter of our holy 
 religion. Let be these globes and powders along 
 with all the other follies of the cabala and the 
 spagyric art." 
 
 I thought I could hear him making this little 
 speech between two pinches of snuff, and I knew 
 not what to reply to such Christian language. On 
 the other hand, I foresaw and considered in what 
 embarrassment I should find myself before Mon- 
 sieur d'Astarac when he should ask me what news 
 of the Salamander? What should I reply to him? 
 How could I confess my reserve and my abstention, 
 without at the same time betraying my suspicion 
 and my fear? And then again, in spite of myself, 
 I was curious to try such an adventure. I am not 
 credulous. On the contrary, I have a prodigious 
 leaning to doubt, and this propensity induces me to 
 defy common sense and even evidence along with 
 it. To everything that is told me I say to myself 
 why not? Before the crystal globe this "why 
 not?" did insult to my natural intelligence. This
 
 n8 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 "why not" inclines me to credulity and, it is worthy 
 of note here, that to believe nothing is to believe 
 everything, and one must not keep too open and 
 free a mind lest perchance it should become a store- 
 house for adventure, and stuff should lodge there 
 of extravagant form and weight which could find 
 no place in minds sensibly and commonplacedly fur- 
 nished with beliefs. While with my hand on the 
 waxen seal I remembered what my mother had told 
 me of .magic bottles my "why not?" whispered to 
 me that perchance after all one might see in this as- 
 tral dust aerial sprites. But as soon as this notion, 
 having set foot in my mind, inclined to lodge there 
 and recline upon itself, I found it odd, absurd and 
 grotesque. Ideas, when they lay hold of one soon 
 become impertinent. Few of them are capable of 
 being anything but passing fancies, and certainly 
 this one had an air of folly. While I still asked 
 myself, Shall I open it? Shall I not open it? the 
 seal, which I had not ceased to press between my 
 fingers, broke suddenly in my hand, and behold the 
 bottle was uncorked! 
 
 I waited and I watched. I saw nothing and I 
 felt nothing. I felt cheated, so facile and prompt 
 to slip into our minds is the hope of over-reaching 
 nature ! Nothing ! Not even a vague or confused 
 illusion, or uncertain image. What I had foreseen 
 had happened. What a deception! I felt a kind 
 of chagrin. Lying back in my arm-chair I swore 
 to myself before the surrounding Egyptians with 
 their long black eyes to shut my mind closer in fu- 
 ture against the lies of cabalists. Once again I 
 acknowledged the wisdom of my good master and 
 I resolved on his example to guide myself by reason
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 119 
 
 in all matters not relating to the Christian and 
 Catholic faith. To have expected the visit of a 
 Salamander-lady, what a simpleton! Could there 
 possibly be Salamanders? But what does one 
 know of such things? and "why not?" 
 
 The atmosphere, heavy since mid-day, was be- 
 come overpowering. Torpid from long, peaceful, 
 and secluded days I felt a weight on my brow and 
 on my eyelids. The coming storm quite bore me 
 down. I let my arms fall, and with head thrown 
 back and closed eyes I slid into a half-slumber full 
 of gilded Egyptians and lascivious shades. This 
 uncertain condition, during which the feeling of 
 love burnt in me as a fire in the night, lasted for I 
 know not how long, when I was awakened by a 
 light sound of steps and of rustling material. I 
 opened my eyes and gave a loud cry. 
 
 A marvellous creature stood before me, robed in 
 black satin, her hair decked with lace, dark, with 
 blue eyes, well-marked features, a young pure skin, 
 rounded cheeks and a mouth breathing an invisible 
 kiss. Her short dress showed little feet, light and 
 instinct with gaiety and movement. She held her- 
 self erect, rounded, and a trifle thickset in her vo- 
 luptuous perfection. One could see a small square 
 of her neck under the velvet band tied round her 
 throat, and it was dark but dazzling. She looked 
 at me with an air of curiosity. 
 
 I have said that my sleep had given me thoughts 
 of love. I rose up. I sprang towards her. 
 
 "Excuse me," she said, "I was looking for Mon- 
 sieur d'Astarac." 
 
 I replied: "Madame, there is no question of 
 Monsieur d'Astarac. There is but you and I. I
 
 120 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 was waiting for you. You are my Salamander. I 
 have opened the crystal bottle. You have come. 
 You are mine." 
 
 I took her in my arms and covered with kisses all 
 of her that my lips could meet above the opening 
 of her bodice. 
 
 She disengaged herself and said. 
 
 "You are mad." 
 
 "It is very natural," said I, "who would not be, 
 in my place ?" 
 
 She looked down, blushed and smiled. I threw 
 myself at her feet. 
 
 "Since Monsieur d'Astarac is not here," she said, 
 "I must withdraw." 
 
 "Stay," I cried, and bolted the door. 
 
 She asked me, "Do you know if he will return 
 shortly?" 
 
 "No, Madame, he will not come back for long 
 enough. He has left me alone with the Salaman- 
 ders. I desire but one. It is you." 
 
 I took her in my arms, I bore her to the sofa, I 
 dropped down with her, I covered her with kisses, 
 I was no longer conscious of myself. She cried out, 
 I did not listen to her. Her open palms repulsed 
 me, her nails scratched me, and her vain defence 
 but sharpened my desires. I clasped her, I en- 
 folded her, over-borne, and undone. Her yielding 
 body ceded to me; she closed her eyes. I soon felt 
 in my triumph her beautiful arms forgivingly en- 
 fold me. 
 
 Then, unlocked alas ! from this delicious embrace, 
 we looked on one another with surprise. Anxious 
 to recover her propriety she smoothed her skirts 
 and was silent. 
 
 "I love you," said I. "What is your name?"
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 121 
 
 I did not think she was a Salamander, and truth 
 to tell I had never really thought so. 
 
 "I am called Jael," she said.. 
 
 "What! you are Mosaide's niece?" 
 
 "Yes, but say nothing. If he knew . . ." 
 
 "What would he do?" 
 
 "Oh! nothing to me. But much harm to you. 
 He does not love Christians." 
 
 "And you!" 
 
 "Oh! I I do not love Jews." 
 
 "Jael, do you love me a little?" 
 
 "It seems to me, Monsieur, after what we have 
 expressed to one another, that your question is an 
 insult." 
 
 "It is true, Mademoiselle, but I hope that you 
 will pardon a haste and an ardour which was not 
 careful to consult your feelings." 
 
 "Oh, Monsieur, do not make yourself out more 
 guilty than you are. All your violence and all your 
 ardour would not have served you had you not 
 pleased me. A moment ago, seeing you asleep in 
 that arm-chair, I thought you deserving. I waited 
 your awakening, and you know the rest." 
 
 I answered her with a kiss. She returned it. 
 What a kiss ! I thought the wild wood-strawberry 
 melted in my mouth ! My desires re-awoke, and I 
 pressed her ardently against my heart. 
 
 "This time," said she, "do not let yourself be so 
 carried away, and do not think only of yourself. 
 One must not be an egoist in love. That is what 
 young men do not well understand. But one 
 teaches them." 
 
 We dived again into the depths of delight. 
 Afterwards the adorable Jael said to me: 
 
 "Have you a comb? I look like a witch."
 
 122 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 "Jael," said I, "I have no comb; I was expecting 
 a Salamander. I adore you." 
 
 "Adore me, my friend, but with discretion. You 
 do not know Mosai'de." 
 
 "Why, Jael, is he so terrifying, at a hundred and 
 thirty years of age, and seventy-five of them passed 
 in a pyramid?" 
 
 "I see, my friend, that you have heard tales 
 about my uncle, and that you have been simple 
 enough to believe them. Nobody knows his age; 
 I am ignorant of it myself. He has been old as 
 long as I have known him. I only know that he 
 is robust and of no common strength. He was a 
 banker at Lisbon, where he happened to kill a 
 Christian whom he had surprised with my aunt 
 Myriam. He fled and took me with him. Since 
 then he has borne a mother's love towards me. 
 He talks to me as one talks to little children, and 
 he weeps as he watches me sleep." 
 
 "Do you dwell with him?" 
 
 "Yes, in the keeper's cottage at the other end of 
 the park." 
 
 "I know, one follows the mandragora path. 
 How comes it I have not met you before? By 
 what melancholy chance have I, although so near to 
 you, lived without seeing you? But do I say lived? 
 Is it life to live without knowing you? You are 
 kept close then in this cottage?" 
 
 "It is true that I live very secludedly, and that I 
 cannot go for walks or shopping or to the plays as 
 I should like. Mosaide's affection for me allows 
 me no freedom. He keeps me jealously, and in all 
 the world he loves but me, and six little gold cups 
 that he brought from Lisbon. As he is far more 
 attached to me than he was to my aunt Myriam, he
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 123 
 
 would kill you, my friend, with a better will than 
 he killed the Portuguese. I warn you of it to make 
 you discreet, and because it is not a consideration 
 which will give pause to a man of mettle. Are you 
 a man of quality and born of a good family?" 
 
 "Alas, no," I replied, "my father practises one 
 of the mechanic arts, and is in a kind of business." 
 
 "Is he in the Revenue? Has he any office of 
 profit? No? . . . That's a pity. So one must 
 love you for yourself alone. But tell me the truth : 
 Will not Monsieur d'Astarac soon be here?" 
 
 At this name, at this query, a horrible doubt 
 crossed my mind. I suspected that this ravishing 
 young woman, Jael, had been sent by the cabalist to 
 play the role of a Salamander to me. I even se- 
 cretly accused her of playing the Nymph to this old 
 madman. To be immediately enlightened on the 
 subject, I asked her roughly, if she were in the habit 
 of playing the Salamander in the castle? 
 
 "I fail to understand you," she answered, look- 
 ing at me with eyes full of innocent surprise. 
 "You speak like Monsieur d'Astarac himself, and I 
 should think you infected with his complaint had I 
 not proved that you do not share his aversion from 
 women. He cannot abide them, and it is a real 
 embarrassment to me to see him and to speak to 
 him. Nevertheless, I was looking for him a short 
 time ago when I found you." 
 
 In my joy at being thus reassured I covered her 
 with kisses. She managed to let me see that she 
 wore black stockings, fastened above the knee with 
 diamond-buckled garters, and the sight of them 
 turned my mind to fancies which pleased her. On 
 her side, she led me on with much skill and warmth 
 of affection, and I felt the spirit of play beginning
 
 i2 4 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 to wake in her at a moment when I began to weary 
 of it. However, I did my best and was again 
 happy in being able to spare this delightful person 
 the affront that she least deserved. It seemed to 
 me she was not ill-pleased with me. She rose up 
 with a tranquil mien and said: 
 
 "Do you not really know whether Monsieur 
 d'Astarac will soon be back? I will confess to you 
 I came to ask him for a small sum of money owing 
 on my uncle's pension, of which for the moment I 
 am in great need." 
 
 I apologetically pulled three ecus from my purse 
 which she did me the kindness to accept. It was 
 all that was left to me from the too rare generosi- 
 ties of the cabalist, who, professing fo disdain 
 money, unluckily forgot to pay my wages. 
 
 I asked Mademoiselle Jael if I should not have 
 the good fortune to see her again. 
 
 "You shall," she said. 
 
 And we arranged that she should come to my 
 room at night whenever she could make her escape 
 from the cottage where she was kept. 
 
 "Only take care," said I, "my door is the fourth 
 on the right in the corridor, and the fifth is that of 
 my good master, Abbe Coignard. The others," 
 added I, "merely lead to the attics, which accom- 
 modate two or three of the scullions, and many hun- 
 dreds of rats." 
 
 She assured me she would take care to make no 
 mistake, and that she would tap at my door and no 
 other. 
 
 "For the matter of that, your Abbe Coignard 
 seems to me to be a very good sort of man. I 
 think we have nothing to fear from him. I saw 
 him through a peephole the day he came with you
 
 THE RHINE PEDAUQUE 125 
 
 to see my uncle. He seemed to be amiable, though 
 I could scarcely hear what he said. His nose, in 
 particular, seemed clever and capable. He who 
 bears it must be a man of resource, and I should 
 like to make his acquaintance. There is always 
 something to be had from the society of men of 
 parts. I am only sorry that he displeased my uncle 
 by his freedom of speech and his jesting humours. 
 Mosai'de hates him, and he has a capacity for 
 hatred quite unimaginable by a Christian." 
 
 "Mademoiselle," I replied, "Monsieur 1'Abbe 
 Jerome Coignard is a very learned man, and he is 
 moreover a philosopher and a benevolent one. 
 He knows the world, and you are right in thinking 
 his counsel worthy of following. I live entirely un- 
 der his guidance. But tell me, did you not see me 
 also that day from your peephole in the cottage?" 
 
 "I saw you," said she, "and I will not deny that 
 I saw you very plainly. But I must return to my 
 uncle. Farewell." 
 
 Monsieur d'Astarac did not fail to ask me that 
 night after supper for news of the Salamander. 
 His curiosity embarrassed me not a little. I an- 
 swered that the meeting had surpassed my hopes, 
 but that beyond that I thought it my duty to keep 
 the reserve fitting in adventures of the kind. 
 
 "This discretion, my son," said he, "is not as 
 necessary as you think. Salamanders do not re- 
 quire secrecy on the subject of amours of which they 
 are not ashamed. One of these Nymphs, who 
 loves me, has no dearer pastime in my absence than 
 to cut my initials entwined with hers on the bark 
 of the trees, as you may satisfy yourself by exam- 
 ining the trunks of five or six pines whose graceful 
 tops you can see from here. But have you not
 
 126 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 
 
 noticed, my son, that this kind of love, so sublime, 
 far from leaving one fatigued imparts fresh vigour 
 to the heart? I am sure that after what has passed 
 you will busy yourself to-night by translating at 
 least sixty pages of Zozimus the Panipolitan." 
 
 I confessed that, on the contrary, I felt a great 
 desire to sleep, which he explained by the 'surprise 
 of a first interview. And so the great man rested 
 assured that I had had dealings with a Salamander. 
 I felt scruples about deceiving him, but I was 
 obliged to, and, indeed, he so deceived himself that 
 one could scarcely add much to his illusions. So 
 I sought my couch in peace of mind : and having got 
 to bed, I blew out my candle and closed the sweet- 
 est day of my life.
 
 XV 
 
 
 AEL kept her word. No later than 
 the day after the morrow she came 
 tapping at my door. We were 
 much more at home in my room than 
 we had been in Monsieur d' Astarac's 
 study, and what took place at our 
 first meeting was but child's play 
 compared with what love inspired us with at our 
 second. She tore herself from my arms at the 
 break of day with a thousand vows to join me soon 
 again, calling me her life, her soul, and her pet. 
 
 I got up very late that day. When I went down 
 to the library my good master was seated before 
 the papyrus of Zozimus, his pen in one hand, his 
 magnifying glass in the other, and worthy the ad- 
 miration of any one who can appreciate learning 
 and letters. 
 
 "Jacques Tournebroche," he said to me, "the 
 principal difficulty in reading this lies in the fact 
 that various of the letters may easily be confounded 
 with others, and it is needful to success in decipher- 
 ing it, to draw up a table of the characters which 
 lend themselves to mistakes of this kind; for unless 
 we take this precaution we risk the adoption of 
 wrong readings, to our eternal shame and just vili- 
 fication. I have made some laughable blunders 
 this very day since matins. I must have had my 
 mind distracted by what I saw last night, which I 
 will tell you about. Having woke up in the early 
 dawn I felt a desire for a draught of that light 
 127
 
 128 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 white wine which, you will remember, I compli- 
 mented Monsieur d'Astarac on yesterday. For 
 there is a sympathy, my son, between white wine 
 and cock-crow dating certainly from the time of 
 Noah, and I feel certain that if St. Peter, during 
 the cursed night he spent in the courtyard of the 
 high-priest, had drunk a finger of clear Moselle 
 wine or even of that of Orleans, he would not have 
 denied Jesus before the cock crew twice. But we 
 must in no wise regret this ill deed, my son, for it 
 was necessary that the prophecies should be ful- 
 filled; and if Peter, or Cephas, as he was called, 
 had not that night committed the worst of infamies 
 he would not be to-day the greatest saint in Para- 
 dise and the corner-stone of our holy Church, to 
 the utter confusion of the good people of this world 
 who see the keys of their eternal happiness held by 
 a cowardly good-for-nothing. Oh ! wholesome ex- 
 ample ! which draws man from the fallacious in- 
 spirations of human honour and leads him in the 
 way of salvation ! O wise system of religion ! O 
 divine wisdom which exalteth the humble and the 
 meek and putteth down the mighty! Oh marvel! 
 Oh mystery ! 
 
 "To the eternal shame of the Pharisees and law- 
 yers, a coarse fisherman from the lake of Tiberias, 
 who, by his clumsy cowardice had become the 
 laughing-stock of the wenches in the high-priest's 
 kitchen, where they warmed themselves side by side, 
 a boor and a coward who denied his master and 
 his faith before dirty wenches far less pretty than 
 the chambermaid of the bailiff's household at Seez, 
 wears on his brow the triple crown, on his finger the 
 pontifical ring, is set above the princes of the 
 church, kings, and emperor, and is invested with the
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 129 
 
 power to bind and to loose; the most respectable 
 man, the most worthy woman, can enter heaven 
 only if he give them access to it. But tell me, 
 Tournebroche, my son, how far had I got in my 
 narrative when I lost my thread running after the 
 great Saint Peter, prince of Apostles. I am al- 
 most sure I was speaking of a glass of white wine 
 that I drank at dawn. I went down in my night 
 garments to the store-room and drew from a cer- 
 tain cupboard, of which I had thoughtfully obtained 
 the key the night before, a bottle, which I emptied 
 with enjoyment. Afterwards, on going upstairs, I 
 met between the second and third floors a little lady 
 in white, who was going down. She seemed very 
 frightened and fled to the end of the corridor. I 
 followed her, I caught her up, I seized her in my 
 arms and kissed her, suddenly and irresistibly at- 
 tracted by her. Do not blame me, my son, you 
 would have done the same in my place, perhaps 
 even more. She was a pretty girl, she was like the 
 bailiff's chambermaid, but with more sparkle in her 
 eye. She did not dare cry out. She whispered in 
 my ear: 'Let me go! let me go! you are mad!' 
 Look, Tournebroche, I still bear the marks of her 
 nails on my wrists. Had I but kept the impression 
 of her kiss as vividly on my lips !" 
 
 "What, Monsieur 1'Abbe," I exclaimed, "she 
 gave you a kiss?" 
 
 "Rest assured, my son," replied my good master, 
 "that had you been in my place you would have 
 received one as good, had you seized the opportun- 
 ity as I did. I think I told you that I held the 
 young lady in a close embrace. She tried to get 
 away, she stifled her cries, she murmured lamenta- 
 tions.
 
 130 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 " 'I beseech you to let me go. Here is the dawn, 
 a moment longer, and I am lost.' 
 
 "Her fears, her terror, her peril, what savage 
 would not have been touched by them? I am not 
 inhuman. I gave her her liberty at the price of a 
 kiss which she gave me at once. I give you my 
 word I have never received a more delicious one." 
 
 At this point of his story my good master raised 
 his nose to inhale a pinch of snuff and saw my 
 trouble and my distress, which he took for surprise. 
 
 "Jacques Tournebroche," he continued, "what I 
 have still to tell you will surprise you even more. 
 With regret I let the pretty lass go, but my curios- 
 ity impelled me to follow her. I went downstairs 
 after her. I saw her cross the vestibule, go out by 
 the little door which opens on to the fields on the 
 side where the park stretches out widest, and run 
 down the path. I ran after her. I thought she 
 could not go far in night-garb and night-cap. She 
 took the mandragora path. My curiosity re- 
 doubled and I followed her as far as Mosaide's cot- 
 tage. At that moment that wicked Jew appeared 
 at the window, in his robe and his great cap, like 
 those figures you see appear when mid-day strikes 
 on old clocks, more ridiculous and Gothic than are 
 the churches which preserve them for the pleasure 
 of the country bumpkins and the profit of the 
 verger. 
 
 "He discovered me under the greenwood at the 
 very moment when the pretty girl, swift as Galatea 
 herself, slipped into the cottage. So that I had 
 exactly the appearance of pursuing her in the man- 
 ner and style of the Satyrs we spoke of one day 
 when discussing some fine passages in Ovid. And 
 my dress helped the likeness, for, I think I told
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 131 
 
 you, my son, I was in my night-garments. At the 
 sight of me Mosai'de's eyes glittered. He drew 
 from his dirty yellow cloak a useful-looking stiletto 
 and brandished it out of the window with an arm 
 which seemed by no means weighed down with age. 
 Meanwhile he swore at me bi-lingually. Yes, 
 Tournebroche, my knowledge of grammar author- 
 ises me to state that his curses were bi-lingual, and 
 Spanish, or rather Portuguese, was mingled with 
 Hebrew. It angered me that I could not catch the 
 exact meaning, for I do not understand these lan- 
 guages although I can recognise them by certain 
 sounds which constantly recur. But it is very likely 
 that he accused me of corrupting this girl who is I 
 believe his niece Jael, whom Monsieur d'Astarac, 
 you may remember, has mentioned to us several 
 times. Wherein his invectives conveyed something 
 of flattery; for such as I have become my son, what 
 with the passing of time and the fatigues of a 
 troubled life I do not pretend any longer to the 
 love of young maidens. Alas! unless I become a 
 bishop it is a dish whose flavour I shall never know 
 again. I regret it. But one must not be too 
 strongly attached to the perishable things of this 
 world and we must renounce what renounces us. 
 Mosai'de, then, handling his stiletto, poured hoarse 
 sounds from his throat alternating with shrill 
 screeches, so that I was insulted and vituperated in 
 form of chant or canticle. And without vanity, 
 my son, I may say I was treated as a corrupter and 
 a loose fellow in a solemn and ceremonious tone. 
 When Mosai'de came to the end of his imprecations, 
 I endeavoured to make a riposte bi-lingual, like the 
 attack. I accused him in Latin and in French of 
 homicide and sacrilege, of having cut the throats
 
 1 32 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 of little children and poignarded the sacred host. 
 The early morning breeze playing round my legs 
 reminded me that I was in my nightshirt. I felt 
 somewhat embarrassed, for it is very evident, my 
 son, that a man who wears no breeches is in a poor 
 position to explain the sacred truths, to confound 
 error ard follow up crime. All the same I drew 
 him a terrible picture of his outrages and menaced 
 him with both divine and human justice. 
 
 "What! my good master," I cried, "this Mo- 
 sai'de, who has so pretty a niece, has cut the throats 
 of new-born children and poignarded the sacred 
 host?" 
 
 "I know nothing of that," replied Monsieur 
 Jerome Coignard, "and can know nothing of it. 
 But those crimes are his, being those of his race, 
 and I may attribute them to him without doing 
 him wrong. I followed this up with a long list of 
 scoundrelly ancestors for the old wretch. For you 
 are not ignorant of what is said of the Jews and 
 their abominable rites. In the old cosmography 
 of Munster * there is a plate representing Jews 
 mutilating a child, and they are recognisable by the 
 wheel of cloth they bore on their garments as a 
 sign of disgrace. Nevertheless, I do not think it 
 was an every-day and household usage among 
 them. I also doubt whether all these Jews should 
 be so given to outraging the sacred elements. To 
 accuse them of it is to believe them as deeply pene- 
 trated as ourselves with the divinity of Our Sav- 
 iour Jesus Christ. For one cannot imagine sacri- 
 lege without faith, and the Jew who stabbed the 
 sacred host, by doing so rendered a sincere homage 
 
 * Munster, Sebastian. Author of "Cosmographia Universalis," 
 b. Ingelheim, 1489-1552.
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 133 
 
 to the truth of transubstantiation. Those are all 
 fables we may leave to the ignorant, my son, and 
 if I threw them in the face of that horrible Mo- 
 saide, it was less from the considered beliefs of a 
 sound scholarship than from the swift promptings 
 of resentment and anger." 
 
 "Ah, Monsieur," I replied, "you might have sat- 
 isfied yourself with reproaching him with the Portu- 
 guese he killed from jealousy, for that was a real 
 murder." 
 
 "What!" exclaimed my good master, "Mosaide 
 has killed a Christian. Tournebroche, we have in 
 him a dangerous neighbour. But you will draw the 
 conclusion that I myself draw from this adventure. 
 It is certain that his niece is Monsieur d'Astarac's 
 light of love, whose room she was surely leaving 
 when I met her on the stairs. 
 
 "I have too much religion not to regret that 
 such a charming person should belong to the race 
 which crucified Jesus Christ. Alas! there is no 
 room for doubt, my son, this wicked Mordecai is 
 uncle to an Esther who has no need to bathe for six 
 months in myrrh before she be worthy of the couch 
 of a king. This magic-working old crow is not at 
 all suitable for such a beauty, and I feel an inter- 
 est in her waking in me. Mosaide must hide her 
 with the utmost secrecy, for were she seen one day 
 at court or at the play, she would have all the 
 world at her feet on the morrow. Do you not 
 wish to see her, Tournebroche?" 
 
 I replied that I should like to very much, and we 
 buried ourselves once more in our Greek.
 
 XVI 
 
 NE evening my good master and I 
 finding ourselves in the Rue du Bac, 
 he said to me, for it was a warm 
 night : "Jacques Tournebroche, my 
 son, how would it suit you to turn up 
 here to the left, up the Rue de Cre- 
 nelle, and look for a cabaret? We 
 must also find a landlord who sells wine at two sous 
 the pot, for I am devoid of money, and I think you 
 are no better provided than I am, my son, by fault 
 of Monsieur d'Astarac, who may make gold but 
 who gives none to his servants and his secretaries, 
 as far as can be seen in our case. The state he 
 leaves us in is distressing. I am not worth a penny, 
 and I see that my own industry or cunning must 
 make good this formidable ill. It is very fine to 
 bear poverty with an equal mind, as did Epictetus, 
 and gained thereby an imperishable glory. But it 
 is a practice I am tired of, and it has become tedi- 
 ous by its very sameness. I feel it is high time 
 that I tried some other virtue, and that I practised 
 myself in the art of possessing wealth without 
 wealth possessing me, which is a very noble state 
 of things, and the best that a philosopher can at- 
 tain to. I would gladly come by something, were 
 it only to show that my wits did not desert me even 
 in prosperity. I seek the means, you see me pon- 
 dering thereon, Tournebroche, my son." 
 
 While my good master was speaking in this ele- 
 gant fashion we approached the pretty house where 
 134
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 135 
 
 Monsieur de la Gueritaude had established Cather- 
 ine. "You will know it," she had said to me, "by 
 the roses on the balcony." It was not light enough 
 for me to see the roses, but I thought I could 
 scent them. A few paces further and I recognised 
 her at the window, a jug of water in her hand, water- 
 ing her flowers. At the same moment she recog- 
 nised me in the street below, and she laughed and 
 blew me a kiss. Whereupon a hand appearing at 
 the window gave her a smack on the cheek which 
 so surprised her that she dropped the jug of water 
 which all but fell on my good master's head. Then 
 the buffeted fair one disappeared, and the buffeter, 
 taking her place at the window, leant over the rail- 
 ing and called out: 
 
 "God be praised that you are not the capuchin ! 
 I cannot endure my mistress blowing kisses to that 
 evil-smelling beast who prowls for ever under the 
 window. At least I need not blush for her taste 
 this time. You seem to me to be an honest fellow, 
 and I think that I have seen you before. Do me 
 the honour to come up. There is supper prepared 
 within. You will do me pleasure if you will share 
 it, along with Monsieur 1'Abbe there, who has just 
 received a potful of water on his head and is shak- 
 ing himself like a wet dog. After supper we will 
 play cards, and as soon as it is light we will go and 
 cut each other's throats. But that will be out of 
 pure politeness and only to do you honour, Mon- 
 sieur, for truth to tell, this young woman is not 
 worth a sword-thrust. She is a hussy whom I 
 never wish to see again." 
 
 I recognised him who spoke thus as Monsieur 
 d'Anquetil, whom I had lately seen encouraging his 
 men so actively to prick brother Ange in the rear.
 
 136 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 He spoke civilly, and treated me as a gentleman. I 
 felt the favour he did me in consenting to cut my 
 throat. My good master was no less affected by 
 such urbanity. Having shaken himself sufficiently, 
 he said: 
 
 "Jacques Tournebroche, my son, we cannot refuse 
 such a gracious invitation." 
 
 Two lackeys had already descended with torches. 
 They led us to a room where a cold collation was 
 spread on a table lighted by two silver candelabra. 
 Monsieur d'Anquetil begged us to be seated, and 
 my good master tied his napkin round his neck. 
 He had already impaled a lark on the end of his 
 fork when the sound of sobbing smote our ears. 
 
 "Take no notice of those cries," said Monsieur 
 d'Anquetil, "they come from Catherine, whom I 
 have shut up in her room." 
 
 "Ah, Monsieur! you must forgive her," said my 
 good master, gazing sadly at the little bird at the 
 end of his fork. "The most succulent dishes taste 
 bitter when seasoned with tears and cries. How 
 have you the heart to let a woman cry? Be indul- 
 gent to this one, I implore you. Is she then so 
 guilty for having blown a kiss to my young pupil, 
 who was her neighbour and her companion in the 
 simple time of their youth, when the charms of 
 this pretty girl were only known in the arbour of 
 the Petit Bacchus? There is nothing therein but 
 what is innocent, if it so be that any human action, 
 and more particularly the action of a woman 
 can be entirely innocent and free from original sin. 
 Allow me also to tell you, Monsieur, that jealousy 
 is a Gothic sentiment, a melancholy remnant of 
 barbarous customs, which should find no place in 
 an elegant and well-bred mind."
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 137 
 
 "Monsieur 1'Abbe," replied Monsieur d'Anque- 
 til, "from what do you conclude that I am jealous? 
 I am not. But I will not allow a woman to make 
 light of me." 
 
 "We are the playthings of the winds," said my 
 good master with a sigh. "Everything laughs at 
 us, sky, stars, rain, breezes, light and shade, and 
 woman herself. Allow Catherine to sup with us, 
 Monsieur. She is pretty, she will enliven your 
 table. All that she may have done, that kiss and 
 what more, makes her no less pleasing to look upon. 
 Woman's infidelities do not mar her face. Nature, 
 who delights in decking them, is indifferent to their 
 faults. Imitate her, Monsieur, and forgive Cath- 
 erine." 
 
 I joined my prayers to those of my good master, 
 and Monsieur d'Anquetil consented to liberate the 
 prisoner. He went to the door whence the cries 
 came, opened it, and called Catherine, who replied 
 merely by renewed lamentations. 
 
 "Messieurs," her lover told us, "she is there ly- 
 ing flat on her chest on her bed, her head buried 
 in the pillow, and making ridiculous contortions at 
 every sob. Look at her! There is the sort of 
 thing for which we make ourselves so unhappy and 
 commit so many follies! . . . Catherine, come to 
 supper!" 
 
 But Catherine did not budge, and continued cry- 
 ing. He went and took her by the arm, by the 
 waist. She resisted. He became urgent: "Come 
 then, come, my darling!" 
 
 She stayed obstinately where she was, holding on 
 to the bed and the mattress. 
 
 Her lover lost patience at last, and cried in a 
 rough voice, with many oaths, "Get up, you wench."
 
 138 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 She immediately got up and, smiling amid her 
 tears, took his arm and came into the dining room, 
 a not unhappy victim. She sat down between Mon- 
 sieur d'Anquetil and me, her head on her lover's 
 shoulder, and seeking my foot with hers under the 
 table. 
 
 "Messieurs," said our host, "I trust you will for- 
 give an impetuous action I cannot regret since it 
 gives me the honour of entertaining you here. I 
 really cannot put up with all the caprices of this 
 charming young woman, and I have become very 
 suspicious since I surprised her with her capuchin." 
 
 "My friend," said Catherine, pressing my foot 
 with hers, "your jealousy is at fault. Know then, 
 that I have no fancy for any one -but for Monsieur 
 Jacques." 
 
 "She mocks me," said Monsieur d'Anquetil. 
 
 "Have no doubt about that," I replied. "One 
 can see she .loves but you." 
 
 "Without vanity," he answered, "I think I have 
 inspired her with some interest. But she is a co- 
 quette." 
 
 "A drink!" said Monsieur 1'Abbe Coignard. 
 
 Monsieur d'Anquetil passed the demi-john to my 
 good master, and exclaimed as he did so : 
 
 "Pardi 1'Abbe, as you belong to the Church you 
 can perhaps tell us why women love monks?" 
 
 Monsieur Coignard wiped his lips and said: 
 
 "The reason is that monks love with humility, 
 and lend themselves to anything. Another reason 
 is that their natural instincts have not been weak- 
 ened by taking thought or by having any care for 
 their manners. This is a generous wine, Mon- 
 sieur." 
 
 "You do me too much honour," replied Mon-
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 139 
 
 sieur d'Anquetil. "The wine is Monsieur de la Gue- 
 ritaude's. I took his mistress from him, I may 
 well take his bottles." 
 
 "Nothing could be fairer," replied my good mas- 
 ter. "I see, Monsieur, that you are not a man to 
 stand on convention." 
 
 "Do not praise me more than is fitting, 1'Abbe," 
 answered Monsieur d'Anquetil. "My birth ren- 
 ders easy to me what would be difficult for the vul- 
 gar. A common man is forced to put restraint on 
 all his actions. He is the slave of a strict upright- 
 ness, but a gentleman has the honour to fight for 
 his king and for his own pleasure. That dispenses 
 him from troubling himself about silly trifles. I 
 have served under Monsieur de Villars,* and I 
 fought in the war of succession, and I risked being 
 killed for no reason at the battle of Parma. Surely 
 it is a small matter that in return I beat my men, 
 defraud my creditors, and, should it please me, 
 steal my neighbour's wife or his mistress." 
 
 "You speak like a nobleman," said my good 
 master, "and you are jealous to uphold the pre- 
 rogatives of nobility." 
 
 "I have none of those scruples," continued Mon- 
 sieur d'Anquetil, "which intimidate the mass of 
 mankind and which I hold useful merely to give 
 halt to the fearful and to restrain the discontented." 
 
 "Well and good," said my excellent master. 
 
 "I do not believe in virtue," said the other. 
 
 "You are right," said my good master. "See- 
 ing the way in which the human animal is made he 
 could not be virtuous without some deformity. 
 Look at this pretty girl for instance who is supping 
 
 * Villars, Louis Hector de. Marshal of France, commanded at 
 
 Malplaquet, 1653-1734.
 
 i 4 o AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 with us: her little head, her beautiful throat, her 
 charmingly rounded form and all the rest. In 
 what corner of her person could a grain of virtue 
 find lodgment? There is no room, all is so firm, 
 so full of sap, plump and well filled. Virtue like 
 the raven lives among the ruins. It is to be found 
 in the lines and wrinkles of the body. I myself, 
 Monsieur, who since my childhood have pondered 
 the austere maxims of religion and philosophy, I 
 have been unable to insinuate any virtue in myself 
 save by the breaches made by suffering and age in 
 my constitution. And yet each time I have been 
 filled less with virtue than with pride. So I am in 
 the habit of praying to the Creator of the world 
 in this wise: 'My God, keep me from virtue if it 
 remove me from holiness.' Ah, holiness! that is 
 what it is possible and needful to attain to ! There 
 is the goal that befits us! May we reach it one 
 day! In the meanwhile, give me something to 
 drink." 
 
 "I will confide to you that I do not believe in 
 God," said Monsieur d'Anquetil. 
 
 "For once I think you are to blame, Monsieur," 
 said the Abbe. "One must believe in God and in 
 all the truths of our holy religion." 
 
 Monsieur d'Anquetil cried out: "You are laugh- 
 ing at us, 1'Abbe, and you take us to be far more 
 foolish than we are. I tell you I neither believe in 
 God nor devil, and I never go to Mass unless to 
 the king's Mass. Priestly discourses are but old 
 wives' tales, only endurable, if then, in the days 
 when my grandmother saw the Abbe de Choisy, 
 dressed as a woman, distributing the blessed bread 
 in the church of St. Jacques-du-Haut-Pas. There
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 141 
 
 may have been such a thing as religion in those 
 days. There is none now, thank God!" 
 
 "In the name of all the saints and devils do not 
 speak thus, my friend," exclaimed Catherine. 
 "God exists as certainly as this pie is on the table, 
 and the proof is that one day last year, finding my- 
 self in great poverty and distress, on brother 
 Ange's advice, I burnt a candle in the church of the 
 capuchins, and on the morrow I met Monsieur de la 
 Gueritaude out walking, who gave me this house 
 with all its furniture and the cellar full of wine 
 that we are now drinking, and enough money to live 
 honestly." 
 
 "Fie! Fie!" said Monsieur d'Anquetil, "the 
 foolish wench drags God into her wretched affairs ! 
 It is so shocking that it offends one even though 
 one be an atheist." 
 
 "Monsieur," said my good master, "it is infinitely 
 better to drag God into one's wretched affairs, as 
 does this simple-minded girl, than after your fash- 
 ion to turn Him out of the world He has created. 
 If He did not especially send that fat money-dealer 
 to Catherine, He at least allowed her to meet him. 
 We are ignorant of His ways, and what this inno- 
 cent being says contains more truth, notwithstand- 
 ing some admixture and alloy of blasphemy, than 
 all the vain speeches spouted by the impious from 
 an empty heart. There is nothing more detestable 
 than this libertinage of mind displayed by the youth 
 of to-day. Your words make one shudder. Shall 
 I answer them with proofs drawn from holy books 
 and the writings of the Fathers? Shall I make you 
 listen to the Almighty as He spoke to the patriarchs 
 and the prophets? Sicut locutus est Abraham et
 
 i 4 2 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 seminl ejus in sacula? Shall I unroll the traditions 
 of the Church before your eyes? Shall I invoke the 
 authority of the two Testaments against you ? Shall 
 I overwhelm you with the miracles of Christ? And 
 His words as miraculous as His acts? No. I 
 will not take up these holy weapons. I fear too 
 greatly to profane them in this combat, which is not 
 serious. The Church warns us in her prudence 
 that edification should not be made an occasion for 
 scandal. Therefore I shall remain silent, Mon- 
 sieur, on the subject of the truths on which I was 
 fed at the foot of the altar. But without doing vio- 
 lence to the pure modesty of my soul, and without 
 exposing the sacred mysteries to profanation, I will 
 show to you the Almighty ruling over the reason of 
 mankind, I will show you Him in pagan philosophy 
 and even in the speeches of the impious. Yes, 
 Monsieur, I will make you recognise that you pro- 
 fess Him in spite of yourself even while you pre- 
 tend that He does not exist. For you will grant 
 that if there is an ordering of things in this world 
 it is a divine ordering, and flows from the source 
 and fountain of all order." 
 
 "I grant you that," replied Monsieur d'Anquetil, 
 lying back in his armchair and stroking his leg, 
 which was well turned. 
 
 "Mind what you say then," continued my good 
 master. "Even while you say that God does not 
 exist, what are you doing but stringing thoughts 
 together, marshalling your reasons and manifesting 
 in yourself the primary cause of all thought and all 
 reason, which is God? And can one even attempt 
 to establish the fact that He does not exist without 
 making conspicuous by this worst of all arguments, 
 which is nevertheless an argument, some remnant
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 143 
 
 of the harmony that He has established in the uni- 
 verse?" 
 
 "L'Abbe," replied M. d'Anquetil, "y u are an 
 amiable sophist. One knows nowadays that the 
 world is but the work of blind chance, and we must 
 no longer speak of Providence since the physicists 
 have seen winged frogs in the moon by the aid of 
 their glasses." 
 
 "Well, Monsieur," answered my good master, 
 "I am in no wise troubled that there should be 
 winged frogs in the moon ; such marsh-fowl are suit- 
 able inhabitants for a world which has not been 
 sanctified by the blood of Our Lord Jesus Christ. I 
 confess we know but a small part of the universe, 
 and may be as Monsieur d'Astarac says, who by 
 the by, is quite mad, this world is but a spot of mud 
 in an infinity of worlds. May be Copernicus, the 
 astronomer, was not altogether dreaming when he 
 announced that the earth is not the mathematical 
 centre of the universe. I have read that an Ital- 
 ian, called Galileo, who perished miserably, also 
 thought as did Copernicus, and to-day we see little 
 Monsieur de Fontenelle * in accordance with this 
 way of thinking. But these are but vain imagin- 
 ings fitted merely to disturb weak minds. What 
 matters it that the physical world should be larger 
 or smaller, of one shape or of another? It suffices 
 that it has but to be envisaged through the light of 
 intelligence and reason for God to appear manifest 
 in it. 
 
 "If the meditations of a sage can be of any use 
 to you, Monsieur, I will teach you how this proof 
 of God's existence, better than the proof that St. 
 
 * Fontenelle, Bernard Le Bovier de. Nephew of Corneille, sec- 
 retary of the Academy of Sciences, 1657-1757.
 
 144 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 Anselm gives us, and quite independent of those 
 proofs which come from Revelation, appeared to 
 me suddenly in all its clearness. It was at Seez, 
 twenty-five years ago, I was librarian to my lord- 
 bishop, and the library windows overlooked a yard 
 where I saw a kitchen maid. scouring Monseigneur's 
 pots and pans every morning. She was tall, young, 
 and strong. A, light down shaded her upper lip, 
 and lent a provocation and a charm to her face. 
 Her tangled hair, her thin bust, and long bare arms 
 were as suitable to Adonis as to Diana, in fact she 
 was a boyish beauty. I loved her for it. I loved 
 her strong red hands. In a word this girl filled 
 me with a desire as strong and savage as herself. 
 You know how overmastering such feelings are. I 
 made mine known to her from my window with 
 few words and signs. She let me understand more 
 briefly still that she responded to my sentiments and 
 gave me a rendez-vous for the following night in 
 the loft, where she slept on the hay by the kindness 
 of Monseigneur whose dishes she washed. I 
 awaited the coming of night with impatience. 
 When at length she enfolded the earth I took a lad- 
 der and climbed up to the loft where the girl 
 awaited me. My first thought was to embrace her, 
 my second to admire the chain of events which had 
 led me to her arms. For after all, Monsieur, a 
 young divine, a kitchen maid, a ladder, a bundle of 
 hay! What a sequence! what an ordering of 
 things! What a just meeting of pre-established 
 harmonies! What a linking of cause and effect! 
 What a proof of the existence of God! That is 
 what struck me so strangely, and I rejoice at being 
 able to add this profane demonstration to the rea-
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 145 
 
 sons supplied by theology which are moreover 
 amply sufficient." 
 
 "L'Abbe," said Catherine, "the worst part of 
 your story is that the girl had no bosom. A woman 
 with no bosom is like a bed without a pillow. But 
 d!Anquetil, don't you know what we might do 
 .now?" 
 
 "Yes," he said, "play at ombre, which requires 
 three people." 
 
 "If you want to," she continued. "But I pray 
 you, my friend, call for pipes. Nothing is pleas- 
 anter than to smoke a pipe of tobacco while drink- 
 ing wine." 
 
 A lackey brought some cards, and the pipes, 
 which we lighted. The room was soon filled with 
 a thick smoke amidst which our host and Monsieur 
 L'Abbe Coignard played solemnly at piquet. 
 
 Luck favoured my good master till the moment 
 when Monsieur d'Anquetil thought he saw him for 
 the third time marking fifty-five when he had but 
 forty, and called him a Greek, a card-sharper and a 
 knight of the road, and threw a bottle at his head, 
 which broke on the table and deluged it with wine. 
 
 "You will have to give yourself the trouble of 
 opening another bottle," said the Abbe, "for we are 
 very thirsty." 
 
 "Willingly," said Monsieur d'Anquetil, "but 
 you must know, my Abbe, that a gentleman does 
 not mark points that he has not made, and does not 
 force cards except at the king's table, where all 
 sorts of people are met to whom one is under no 
 obligation. Everywhere else it is villainous. Do 
 you want to be taken for an adventurer then, 
 Abbe?"
 
 I 4 6 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 "It is a remarkable thing," said my good master, 
 "that at cards or dice people blame a practice rec- 
 ommended in the arts of war, in politics, and 
 business, where one prides oneself on correcting a 
 turn of ill-fortune. It is not that I do not pride 
 myself on my honesty at cards. I am exact in my 
 dealings thank God, and you were dreaming, Mon- 
 sieur, just now when you thought you saw me mark 
 points that I had not scored were it otherwise I 
 should invoke the example of the Bishop of Geneva 
 of blessed memory, who made no scruples about 
 cheating at cards. But I cannot help reflecting 
 that men are more punctilious at cards than in se- 
 rious matters and that they bring more honesty to 
 bear on trictrac, where it is a passable hindrance 
 and leave it out in battles or in treaties of peace 
 where it would be troublesome. ^Elian,* Mon- 
 sieur, has written a book in Greek on the subject of 
 stratagem, showing to what excess ruse may be car- 
 ried by great leaders." 
 
 "L'Abbe," said Monsieur d'Anquetil, "I have 
 not read your ^Elian, and shall not read him as 
 long as I live, but I have been to the wars as every 
 good gentleman has. I served the king for eigh- 
 teen months. It is the noblest of callings. I will 
 tell you exactly wherein it consists. 
 
 "It is a secret I may well confide to you since 
 there is no one to hear me but you, some bottles, 
 Monsieur, whom I am going to kill presently, and 
 this girl here who is taking off her clothes." 
 
 "Yes," Catherine said, "my chemise is enough, 
 I'm so hot." 
 
 "Well, then," said Monsieur d'Anquetil, "war, 
 
 * JElian. Greek writer on Military Tactics, 3rd century.
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 147 
 
 whatever the gazettes may say, simply consists in 
 stealing chickens and pigs from the peasants. 
 When soldiers are on campaign that is all they think 
 about." 
 
 "You are quite right," said my good master, 
 "and in the old days in Gaul they used to call the 
 soldier's doxy Madame Lightfinger. But I would 
 beg of you not to kill my pupil, Jacques Tourne- 
 broche." 
 
 "L'Abbe," replied Monsieur d'Anquetil, "I'm 
 obliged in honour to do so." 
 
 "Ouf !" said Catherine, arranging the lace of her 
 chemise at her throat, "now I feel better." 
 
 "Monsieur," continued my good master, "Jac- 
 ques Tournebroche is of great help to me in a trans- 
 lation of Zozimus the Panopolitan, which I have 
 undertaken. I should be infinitely obliged to you 
 if you would not fight with him untifi after this great 
 work is achieved." 
 
 "I do not care a fig for your Zozimus," replied 
 Monsieur d'Anquetil, "I don't care a fig. You 
 hear me, 1'Abbe? I care no more than did the 
 king for his first mistress," and he began to sing: 
 
 To shape the youthful squire of horse, 
 Steady in stirrup and set on his course, 
 The wits of woman must help him perforce 
 Laire, Ian, laire. 
 
 "Who is this Zozimus?" 
 
 "Zozimus, Monsieur," replied the Abbe, "Zozi- 
 mus of Panopolis, was a learned Greek who flour- 
 ished in Alexandria in the third century of the 
 Christian era, and wrote treatises on the spagyric 
 art"
 
 H8 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 "How do you think that affects me?" replied 
 Monsieur d'Anquetil, "and why do you translate 
 him?" 
 
 Strike the iron while 'tis hot 
 Quoth she, nor let her be forgot 
 Whose title was the Sultan's fair 
 Laire, Ian, laire. 
 
 "Monsieur," said my good master, "I grant you 
 that there is no real use in doing so, and that it 
 will not affect the course of the world. But in il- 
 lustrating, with notes and commentaries, this trea- 
 tise, which the Greek composed for his sister Theo- 
 sebia. . . ." 
 
 Catherine interrupted my good master's dis- 
 course by singing in a shrill voice : 
 
 In spite of jealousy and rebuke 
 I'd see my husband made a duke, 
 I'm sick of the sight of his desk and chair 
 Laire, Ian, laire. 
 
 "I contribute," went on my good master, "to the 
 treasures of knowledge amassed by learned men, 
 and I add my stone to the monument of true his- 
 tory which is rather that of maxims and opinions 
 than of wars and treaties; for, Monsieur, the nobil- 
 ity of man. . . ." 
 
 Catherine resumed: 
 
 I can hear the public murmuring 
 I know the sort of ballad they'll sing, 
 The vulgar herd but it's my affair 
 Laire, Ian, laire.
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 149 
 
 Notwithstanding her my good master continued 
 . . . "lies in his thought, and having regard to 
 that it is not a matter of indifference to ascertain 
 what idea of the nature of metals and of the quali- 
 ties of matter this Egyptian had formed." 
 
 Monsieur 1'Abbe Jerome Coignard drank a great 
 draught of wine while Catherine took up her song: 
 
 Pleasant to win the style of lord 
 Whether or no by naked sword, 
 If the end be fair, the means are fair 
 Laire, Ian, laire. 
 
 "L'Abbe," said Monsieur d'Anquetil, "you drink 
 nothing what is more you talk wild nonsense. 
 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 Zozimus?" 
 
 "If you want to know all," said my good master, 
 "I find therein a certain sensuality." 
 
 "Well and good," said Monsieur d'Anquetil, 
 "but how can Monsieur Tournebroche help you, 
 who at this moment is caressing my mistress?" 
 
 "By the knowledge of Greek," said my good 
 master, "which I have imparted to him." 
 
 Monsieur d'Anquetil then turned to me and said, 
 "What .Monsieur, you know Greek! Then you 
 are not a gentleman?" 
 
 "Monsieur," I replied, "my father is the banner 
 bearer to the Confraternity of Parisian Cooks." 
 
 "That makes it impossible for me to kill you, 
 Monsieur. I beg you to excuse me. But, 1'Abbe, 
 you are drinking nothing. You have deceived me. 
 I thought you were a good toper, and I wished you
 
 150 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 to be my chaplain when I should have a house of 
 my own." 
 
 Nevertheless Monsieur Coignard was drinking 
 out of the bottle and Catherine leant towards me 
 and whispered in my ear: "Jacques I feel that 
 I shall never love any one but you." 
 
 These words, coming from a pretty person in her 
 chemise, troubled me extremely, but Catherine put 
 the finishing touch to my intoxication by making 
 me drink out of her glass, which passed unnoticed 
 in the confusion of a supper which had mounted to 
 all our heads. 
 
 Monsieur d'Anquetil, breaking the neck of the 
 bottle against the table, filled us fresh bumpers, and 
 from that moment on I could not give an account 
 of what was said and done around me. All the 
 same I saw that Catherine had traitorously poured 
 a glass of wine down her lover's back between the 
 neck and the coat collar. Monsieur d'Anquetil re- 
 plied by pouring two or three bottles over the 
 young lady in the chemise, whom he thus turned 
 into a sort of mythological figure, of the damp 
 family of Nymphs and Naiads. She cried with 
 rage and twisted herself about convulsively. At 
 the same moment we heard heavy raps from tb-e 
 door-knocker in the silence of the night whereupoi, 
 we all became suddenly still and dumb like en- 
 chanted guests. The knocks soon redoubled in 
 strength and frequency, and Monsieur d'Anquetil 
 broke the silence first by asking out loud with dread- 
 ful oaths, who this troublesome person might be. 
 My good master, who in the most ordinary occur- 
 rences was often inspired with admirable maxims, 
 rose up, and said with unction and solemnity,
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 151 
 
 "What matters whose the hand that knocks so 
 roughly against the closed door for a vulgar and 
 possibly ridiculous motive; let us not ask, and let 
 us take these blows as struck at the door of our 
 hardened and corrupted souls. Let us say at each 
 astounding blow: that is to warn us to amend our 
 ways and think of our salvation which we neglect 
 in the pursuit of pleasure; that is to make us dis- 
 dain the good things of this world; that is to make 
 us think on eternity. Thus, we shall obtain all 
 possible profit from an occurrence otherwise slight 
 and of but small account." 
 
 "You are amusing, 1'Abbe," said Monsieur 
 d'Anquetil, "with the vigour with which they knock 
 they will burst in the door," and indeed the knocker 
 rattled like thunder. 
 
 "They are brigands," cried the wine-sopped 
 Catherine. "Jesus! we shall be massacred! it is 
 our punishment for having turned out the little 
 brother. I have told you a hundred times, d'An- 
 quetil, ill-luck comes to the house whence they drive 
 a monk." 
 
 "Stupid," replied d'Anquetil, "this cursed friar 
 makes her believe all the silliness he wishes. 
 Thieves would be more polite, or at least more dis- 
 creet. It is more likely the watch." 
 
 "The watch! But that is worse still," said 
 Catherine. 
 
 "Bah!" said Monsieur d'Anquetil, "we will thrash 
 them." 
 
 My good master put a bottle in one pocket just 
 for precaution and another bottle in the other 
 pocket for equilibrium, as the story says. All the 
 house shook under the furious blows of the knocker.
 
 i 5 2 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 Monsieur d'Anquetil, whose soldierly qualities 
 were awakened by this attack, cried out, "I will go 
 and reconnoitre the enemy." 
 
 Stumbling as he went he ran to the window 
 where he had so lately and so liberally boxed his 
 mistress's ears, and then came back into the din- 
 ing-room bursting with laughter. 
 
 "Ha! ha!" he cried, "do you know who is knock- 
 ing? It is Monsieur de la Gueritaude in a claw- 
 hammer wig, with two big lackeys bearing lighted 
 torches." 
 
 "Impossible!" said Catherine, "by this time he 
 is sleeping by the side of his elderly wife." 
 
 "Then it is his very ghost," said Monsieur d'An- 
 quetil, "and we must believe that the ghost has 
 taken the Revenue officer's wig. Even a spectre 
 could not imitate it so well, for it is so absolutely 
 comic!" 
 
 "Do you really mean it? Are you not joking?" 
 said Catherine; "is it really Monsieur de la Gueri- 
 taude?" 
 
 "It is he himself, Catherine, if I am to believe 
 my eyes." 
 
 "Then I am lost," exclaimed the poor girl. 
 "How unlucky women are. They never can leave 
 us in peace. What will become of me? Mes- 
 sieurs, will you not hide yourselves in different cup- 
 boards?" 
 
 "That might be done," said Abbe Coignard, 
 "but how are we to take with us these empty bottles 
 for the most part broken, or at any rate with 
 their necks knocked off, the debris of the demi- 
 john, which Monsieur flung at my head, the cloth, 
 the pasty, the plates, the candelabra, and the 
 chemise of Mademoiselle here, which, owing to the
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 153 
 
 wine with which it is soaked has become but a pink 
 and transparent veil for her beauty?" 
 
 "It is true that idiot has wet my chemise," said 
 Catherine, "and I shall catch cold. But it would 
 perhaps suffice were we to hide Monsieur d'Anquetil 
 in the upper room. I will pass off the Abbe as my 
 uncle and Monsieur Jacques as my brother." 
 
 "Not so," said Monsieur d'Anquetil, "I will beg 
 Monsieur de la Gueritaude myself to sup with us." 
 
 We implored him my good master, Catherine, 
 and myself to do nothing of the kind; we be- 
 sought him, we hung on his neck. All in vain. 
 He seized a light and went down the steps. We 
 followed him trembling. He opened the door. 
 Monsieur de la Gueritaude stood there as he had 
 described him to us in his wig, between two lackeys 
 armed with torches. Monsieur d'Anquetil bowed 
 ceremoniously to him and said: 
 
 "Do us the favour to come inside, Monsieur. 
 You will meet some charming and uncommon peo- 
 ple. A turnspit to whom Mademoiselle Catherine 
 blows kisses from her window, and an Abbe who be- 
 lieves in God." 
 
 And he bowed low. 
 
 Monsieur de la Gueritaude was a tall withered 
 man, little inclined to that kind of pleasantry, 
 which irritated him exceedingly, and his anger was 
 visibly increased by the sight of my good master, 
 unbuttoned, a bottle in his hand and two others 
 in his pockets, and by the appearance of Catherine 
 in her damp and clinging chemise. 
 
 "Young man," said he to Monsieur d'Anquetil, 
 coldly angry, "I have the honour to know your 
 esteemed father, with whom I shall to-morrow con- 
 sider to what town the king should send you to
 
 154 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 meditate on your disgraceful behaviour and your 
 impertinence. 
 
 "The worthy gentleman, to whom I have lent 
 money which I do not press for, can refuse me 
 nothing. And our well-beloved prince, who is in 
 exactly the same position as your father, is in- 
 clined to do me favour. So that is settled. I have 
 put through more difficult things in my time, thank 
 God ! As to this young woman, since it is hopeless 
 to expect better ways of her, before mid-day to-mor- 
 row I shall speak two words to Monsieur the head 
 of the police, who, I know, is full willing to send her 
 to the reformatory. I have no more to say to you. 
 This house is mine. I have paid for it, and I 
 mean to enter it." 
 
 Then turning towards his lackeys, and designat- 
 ing my good master and me with the point of his 
 stick, he said: "Throw those two drunkards out." 
 
 Monsieur Jerome Coignard was commonly of ex- 
 emplary sweetness, and he was in the habit of say- 
 ing that he owed this gentleness to the vicissitudes 
 of his life, fortune having treated him like the peb- 
 bles that the sea polishes by rolling them in its ebb 
 and flow. He bore insults calmly, as much through 
 a Christian spirit as through philosophy. But 
 what helped him most was his great contempt for 
 mankind, from which he did not except himself. 
 Nevertheless, this time he was angry out of all pro- 
 portion, and entirely forgot his prudence. 
 
 "Hold your tongue! vile money-grubber!" he 
 cried, waving his bottle like a club. "If these 
 rogues dare come near me, I will break their heads, 
 to teach them to respect my cloth, which bears suffi- 
 cient witness to my sacred character." In the 
 torch-light, shining with perspiration, rubicund, his
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 155 
 
 eyes starting from his head, his coat open, and his 
 great paunch half out of his breeches, my good mas- 
 ter seemed the sort of fellow who would not easily 
 be driven into a corner. The rogues hesitated. 
 
 "Drag him out!" cried Monsieur de la Gueri- 
 taude to them. "Drag out this wine-skin! Do 
 you not see you only have to push him into the 
 gutter, and he'll stay there until the sweepers come 
 to throw him on the dust-heap? I would drag him 
 out myself were I not afraid to soil my clothes." 
 
 My good master fiercely resented these insults. 
 
 "Odious tax-gatherer!" said he, in a voice fit to 
 echo in a church, "infamous hanger-on; savage 
 sweater of the people! You pretend that this 
 house is yours? If you want people to believe you, 
 if you want them to know it is yours, write up 
 over the door this word from the Gospel: Acel- 
 dama, which means, the price of blood. Then, 
 bowing low, we will allow the master to enter his 
 dwelling. Thief, bandit, homicide, write with the 
 charcoal I will throw in your face, write with your 
 dirty hand over the door your owner's title. The 
 price of the blood of the widow and the orphan, the 
 price of the blood of the just, Aceldama. If not, 
 stay outside and leave us within, usurer." 
 
 Monsieur de la Gueritaude, who had never heard 
 anything like this in his life, thought he had to 
 do with a madman, as he might well believe, and 
 rather to protect himself than to make an attack, 
 he raised his big stick. 
 
 My good master, beside himself, flung his bottle 
 at the Revenue officer's head, who fell full length 
 on the pavement, crying out "He has killed me!" 
 And as he was swimming in the wine out of the 
 bottle it looked as if he had been assassinated.
 
 1 56 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 His two lackeys wanted to fling themselves on the 
 murderer, and one of the two, a stout fellow, 
 thought he had him, when Monsieur 1'Abbe Coig- 
 nard gave him such a blow in the stomach with his 
 head that the fool rolled in the gutter beside the 
 financier. 
 
 He got up for his sins, and arming himself with 
 a lighted torch threw it down the passage whence 
 his enemy had fallen on him. My good master 
 was no longer there, he had already fled the 
 spot. 
 
 Monsieur d'Anquetil was there still with Cather- 
 ine, and he it was who received the lighted torch in 
 his face. This insult seemed unbearable to him: 
 he drew his sword and plunged it into the body of 
 the unlucky rogue, who thus learnt to his cost that 
 it does not do to attack a gentleman. 
 
 Nevertheless my good master had not made 
 twenty paces down the road before the second 
 lackey, a long spidery-legged beggar, commenced 
 running after him, calling to the watch, and crying 
 "Stop him." 
 
 He gained on him, and at the corner of the Rue 
 Saint Guillaume we saw him stretch his arm out 
 and seize him by the collar. 
 
 But my good master, who knew more than a 
 trick or two, doubled sharply, and passing by his 
 man tripped him up against a milestone where he 
 cracked his head. This occurred whilst we were 
 running, Monsieur d'Anquetil and I, to the assistance 
 of Monsieur 1'Abbe Coignard, whom it was not 
 seemly to desert in this pressing danger. 
 
 "L'Abbe," said Monsieur d'Anquetil, "give me 
 your hand, you are a brave man." 
 
 "In truth I think I was more or less murderous,"
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 157 
 
 said my good master. "But I am not unnatural 
 enough to glory in it. It suffices me if I do not in- 
 cur too much blame. These violent ways are 
 scarcely mine, and such as you see me, Monsieur, I 
 am better fitted to teach the liberal arts from a col- 
 lege chair than to fight with lackeys on the road- 
 side." 
 
 "Oh!" continued Monsieur d'Anquetil, "that is 
 not the worst part of the business. But I think you 
 have nearly killed a Farmer-general." 
 
 "Is that really so?" asked Monsieur 1'Abbe. 
 
 "As true as I stuck my sword through the tripes 
 of some of this dirty crew." 
 
 "At this juncture," said the Abbe, "it is first 
 necessary to ask forgiveness of God, towards 
 Whom alone we are answerable for spilt blood ; sec- 
 ondly, to hasten our steps to the nearest fountain, 
 so as to wash ourselves. For I think I am bleed- 
 ing from the nose." 
 
 "You are right, TAbbe," said Monsieur d'An- 
 quetil, "for the fool who lies cut open in the gutter 
 has broken my head. What impertinence!" 
 
 "Forgive him," said the Abbe, "so that you may 
 be forgiven for what you have done unto him." 
 
 We found at the right moment in the wall of a 
 hospital where the Rue du Bac loses itself in the 
 fields, a little bronze Triton throwing a spray of 
 water into a stone basin. We stopped to wash our- 
 selves and drink, for our throats were dry. 
 
 "What have we done?" said my good master, 
 "and how comes it I have been so unlike my real 
 pacific self? It is indeed true one must not judge 
 men from their actions, which depend on circum- 
 stances, but rather as God our Father does, by 
 their secret thoughts and inward intentions."
 
 158 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 "And Catherine," I asked "what has become of 
 her in this terrible adventure?" 
 
 "I left her," replied Monsieur d'Anquetil, "blow- 
 ing into her financier's mouth to put life into him. 
 But she might spare her pains. I know la Gueri- 
 taude. He is pitiless. He will send her to the re- 
 formatory and perchance to America. I am sorry 
 for her. She was a pretty girl. I did not love 
 her. But she was mad about me. And extraordi- 
 nary to relate, here I am without a mistress." 
 
 "Do not be troubled," said my good master, "you 
 will find another no different from that one, or at 
 least not essentially different. And it seems to me 
 that what you look for in a woman is common to 
 all." 
 
 "It is quite clear that we are in danger," said 
 Monsieur d'Anquetil, "I of being put in the Bas- 
 tille, and you, 1'Abbe, of being hung with your 
 pupil, Tournebroche, who nevertheless has killed no 
 one." 
 
 "It is only too true," replied my good master, 
 "we must think of our safety. It may be necessary 
 to quit Paris where they will not fail to look for us, 
 and even to fly to Holland. Alas ! I foresee that 
 I shall write scurrilous papers for women of the 
 theatre, with this very hand which illustrated with 
 such ample notes the alchemistic treatise of Zozi- 
 mus the Panopolitan." 
 
 "Listen to me, 1'Abbe," said Monsieur d'Anque- 
 til, "I have a friend who will hide us on his estate 
 as long as may be necessary. He lives four leagues 
 from Lyons, in a wild and horrid part of the coun- 
 try where there is nothing to be seen but poplars, 
 grass and woods. That's where we must go, and 
 wait till the storm has past over. We will turn
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 159 
 
 our attention to the chase. But we must find a 
 post-chaise as quickly as possible or, better still, a 
 berline." 
 
 "I know the very thing, Monsieur," said the 
 Abbe. "The Hotel du Cheval Rouge, at the cross 
 roads of Bergeres will supply you with good horses 
 and every kind of carriage. I knew the landlord 
 in the days when I was secretary to Madame de St. 
 Ernest. He was willing to oblige people of qual- 
 ity; I believe he is dead since, but he ought to have 
 a son who takes after him. Have you any 
 money?" 
 
 "I have a fairly large sum on me," said Mon- 
 sieur d'Anquetil, "and very glad I am of it, for I 
 cannot think of going back to my house, where the 
 police will not fail to search for me to take me to 
 the Chatelet.* I have forgotten my men left in 
 Catherine's house God knows what has become 
 of them; but I care little. I beat them and I never 
 paid them, and yet I am not sure of their fidelity; 
 on whom can one rely? Let us go to the cross 
 roads of Bergeres at once." 
 
 "Monsieur" said the Abbe, "I am going to make 
 you a proposition, hoping that it may prove agree- 
 able to you. Tournebroche and I are living in an 
 alchemist's workshop, in a tumble-down old chateau 
 at the Cross of Les Sablons, where you can easily 
 spend twelve hours without being seen. We will 
 take you with us there, and we will wait until our 
 carriage be ready. There is much advantage that 
 Les Sablons is not far from the cross roads of Ber- 
 geres." 
 
 Monsieur d'Anquetil did not gainsay these ar- 
 rangements, and we decided standing before the 
 
 * Chatelet. Fortress in old Paris. Seat of criminal jurisdiction.
 
 i6o AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 little Triton blowing water from his full cheeks 
 to go first to the Cross of Les Sablons and then to 
 take a berline at the Hotel du Cheval Rouge to 
 drive us to Lyons. 
 
 "I will confide to you, Monsieur," said my good 
 master, "that of the three bottles I took care to 
 carry off with me one was unluckily broken on the 
 head of Monsieur de la Gueritaude, the second 
 broke in my pocket during my flight. They are 
 both much to be regretted. The third was pre- 
 served intact against all hope and here it is 1" 
 
 And drawing it from under his coat he placed it 
 on the edge of the fountain. 
 
 "That is one good thing," said Monsieur d'An- 
 quetil, "you have wine, I have dice and cards in 
 my pocket. We can play." 
 
 "It is indeed excellent entertainment," said my 
 good master. "A/ game of cards, Monsieur, is a 
 book of adventures of the kind we call romance, and 
 it has this superiority over other books of its kind 
 that one composes it even while one reads it, and 
 one need not have wit to compose it, nor know one's 
 letters to read it. And it is furthermore a marvel- 
 lous work, in that it makes sense and has a new 
 meaning each time that one turns over the leaves. 
 It is of such cunning design one cannot admire it 
 sufficiently, for from mathematical laws it draws 
 thousands and thousands of curious combinations 
 and so many singular juxtapositions that people 
 have been led to think, contrary to truth, that they 
 could discover therein secrets of the heart, the mys- 
 tery of fate, and the hidden things of the future. 
 What I say is particularly applicable to the tarot of 
 the Bohemians, which is the best of card games, but
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 161 
 
 also may apply to the game of piquet. The inven- 
 tion of cards may be referred to the ancients, and 
 for my part, although truth to tell, I know no text 
 which positively supports me here, I believe them 
 to be of Chaldean origin. But in its present form 
 the game of piquet does not go further back than 
 the time of Charles VII, and, if it is true, as is 
 said in a learned dissertation which I remember to 
 have read at Seez, that the Queen of Hearts re- 
 presents in an emblematical manner the beautiful 
 Agnes Sorel, and that the Queen of Spades is no 
 other than Jeanne Dulys, also called Jeanne Dare, 
 who by her bravery re-established the affairs of the 
 monarchy, and was then boiled at Rouen by the 
 English, in a cauldron they show one for two Hards, 
 and which I have seen in passing through that town. 
 Certain historians pretend that this maiden was 
 burnt alive at the stake. One reads in Nicole 
 Gilles * and in Pasquier,t that Saint Catherine and 
 Saint Marguerite appeared to her. But certainly 
 it was not God who sent them, for there is no one, 
 however little learned or pious, but knows that 
 Marguerite and Catherine were invented by the By- 
 zantine monks whose extravagant and barbarous 
 imaginings have defiled the Martyrology. There 
 is a ridiculous impiety in pretending that God made 
 saints, who never existed, appear to Jeanne Dulys, 
 but the old chroniclers were not afraid of giving 
 us to understand this. Why did they not say that 
 God sent to this maiden Yseulte the fair, Melusina, 
 Bertha Big-Foot and all the heroines of the ro- 
 
 * Gilles, Nicole. French chronicler, d. 1503. 
 t Pasquier, Etienne. Author of "Recherches de la France," an 
 inquiry into the origins of French history, 1529-1615.
 
 1 62 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 mances of chivalry whose existence is no more fabu- 
 lous than that of the Virgin Catherine and the 
 Virgin Marguerite? 
 
 "Monsieur de Valois in the last century rightly 
 set himself against these gross fables, which are as 
 much opposed to religion as error is contrary to 
 truth. It is to be wished that some religious, in- 
 structed in history, should make the distinction be- 
 tween the real saints, whom it is fitting to venerate, 
 and saints such as Marguerite, Luce or Lucie, and 
 Eustace who are imaginary, and even St. George, 
 of whom I have my doubts. 
 
 "If ever some day I may retire to a fair abbey 
 provided with a rich library, I will consecrate to 
 this task the remainder of a life nearly worn out 
 by tempest and shipwreck. I long for port and 
 desire to taste the sweets of repose befitting my age 
 and condition." 
 
 While Monsieur 1'Abbe Coignard was making 
 these memorable remarks, Monsieur d'Anquetil, 
 without hearing him, seated on the edge of the 
 basin shuffled the cards and swore like a fiend, be- 
 cause one could not see to play a game of piquet. 
 
 "You are right Monsieur," said my good mas- 
 ter, "one cannot see very well, and I feel some 
 annoyance, less by thought of the cards which I can 
 very easily do without, than for the wish I have to 
 read some pages of the Consolations of Boethius, a 
 copy of which in a small edition I always carry in 
 my coat-pocket, that I may have it under my hand 
 and open it directly I fall into misfortune, as hap- 
 pens to me to-day. For it is a cruel mischance, 
 Monsieur, for a man of my kind to be a homicide 
 and menaced with the ecclesiastical prisons. I feel
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 163 
 
 that one single page of this admirable book would 
 keep up my heart, which sinks at the very notion 
 of the police." 
 
 Pronouncing these words he let himself sink over 
 the inner side of the basin, and that so deeply, that 
 he dipped the greater part of his person in the 
 water but he was not concerned, and seemed not 
 even to perceive it, and drawing from his pocket 
 his Boethius which was really there and donning his 
 spectacles which had but one glass left and that 
 broken in three places, he set himself to look in 
 the little book for the page most appropriate to his 
 situation. He would have found it no doubt, and 
 would have drawn fresh strength from it if the ill- 
 condition of his spectacles, the tears that rose to 
 his eyes and the feeble light that fell from the sky 
 had allowed the search. But he had soon to con- 
 fess that he saw nothing and he fell out with the 
 moon who showed her sharp horn from the edge of 
 a cloud. He addressed her with vivacity and over- 
 whelmed her with invective. 
 
 "Thou obscene Star, mischievous and libidin- 
 ous!" said he. "Thou never weariest of holding 
 the candle to the wicked ways of men, and thou 
 grudgest a ray of light to him who seeks a virtuous 
 maxim!" 
 
 "Well, well, 1'Abbe," said Monsieur d'Anquetil, 
 "since this trollop of a moon gives us enough light 
 to guide us through the street and not enough to 
 play piquet, let us go straight to the chateau you 
 spoke of and where I must enter without being 
 seen." 
 
 The advice was good, and having drained the 
 bottle by the neck we all three took the road to the
 
 164 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 
 
 Cross of Les Sablons, Monsieur d'Anquetil and I 
 walked on ahead, my good master, hindered by all 
 the water his breeches had absorbed, followed us 
 weeping, groaning, and dripping.
 
 XVII 
 
 UR eyes were smarting in the early 
 dawn when we reached the green 
 door opening into the park of Les 
 Sablons. We were under no neces^ 
 sity of knocking. For some time 
 past the master of the house had 
 given us the keys of his domain. 
 We had planned that my good master should go 
 forward cautiously with d'Anquetil in the shadow 
 of the alley, and that I should remain behind a little 
 to look out if necessary for the faithful Criton, and 
 for any of the kitchen varlets who might catch 
 sight of the intruder. This arrangement, which 
 was only reasonable, was to cost me much anxiety. 
 For at the moment when my two companions had 
 already climbed the stairs, and gained without being 
 seen my own room, where we had decided to hide 
 Monsieur d'Anquetil till the time for our flight in 
 the post-chaise, I had scarcely reached the second 
 floor, and there I came upon Monsieur d'Astarac 
 himself, clad in a robe of red damask, and bearing 
 a silver torch. He put his hand on my shoulder 
 as his habit was, and said to me : 
 
 "Well, my son, are you not well content to have 
 broken off all dealings with women, and so escaped 
 all the dangers of bad company? You have no need 
 to fear from these daughters of the air those quar- 
 rels and fights and violent and harmful scenes which 
 commonly break out among creatures who lead an 
 evil life. In your solitude, which the fairies make 
 165
 
 1 66 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 charming to you, you enjoy a delicious tranquillity." 
 
 At first I thought he spoke mockingly. But I 
 soon recognised that he had no such intention. 
 
 "Our meeting is very opportune, my son, and I 
 should be much obliged to you if you would come 
 to my workshop for a few moments." 
 
 I followed him. With a key at least an ell in 
 length, he opened the door of that cursed room 
 whence I had formerly seen the infernal flames dart 
 forth. And when we had both entered the labor- 
 atory he asked me to make up the fire, which was 
 dying out. I threw some logs of wood in the fur- 
 nace, where something was cooking which gave 
 forth a suffocating smell. While he shifted cruci- 
 bles and retorts and compounded his unholy messes, 
 I sat back on the bench where I had sunk down, and 
 in spite of myself closed my eyes. He forced me 
 to open them again to admire a vessel of green pot- 
 tery capped with a glass top, which he held in his 
 hand. 
 
 "My son," said he, "you must know that this 
 sublimatory apparatus is called an aludel. It holds 
 a liquid which you must carefully observe, for I am 
 about to reveal to you that this liquid is no other 
 than the mercury of the philosophers. Do not 
 think it is always of so dark a hue. Before long it 
 will become white, and in that state it transforms 
 metals into silver. Then, owing to my skill and 
 cunning, it will turn red, and acquire the virtue of 
 transmuting silver into gold. It would be greatly 
 to your profit, doubtless, if, shut up in this labor- 
 atory, you did not leave it before these sublime op- 
 erations were little by little accomplished, which 
 cannot take more than two or three months. But 
 perchance, that would be putting too great a strain
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 167 
 
 on your youth, so content yourself this time in 
 watching the preliminaries of the work, heaping 
 plenty of wood in the furnace meanwhile, if you 
 please." 
 
 Having spoken thus, he disappeared once more 
 among his bottles and retorts. Meanwhile I medi- 
 tated on the unlucky position my ill-luck and im- 
 prudence had brought me to. 
 
 Alas ! I said to myself, throwing logs on the fire, 
 at this very moment the police are seeking us, my 
 good master and me, and we shall have perhaps to 
 go to prison we certainly shall have to leave this 
 chateau where I had, though lacking money, board 
 and a certain position. I shall never dare to ap- 
 pear again before Monsieur d'Astarac, who believes 
 that I spent the night in the noiseless delights of 
 magic, and it were indeed better I had done so. 
 Alas! never again shall I see Mosaide's niece, she 
 who in my little room so agreeably interrupted my 
 slumbers. And no doubt she will forget me. Per- 
 haps she will love another on whom she will bestow 
 the same caresses as on me. The very thought of 
 such infidelity, is intolerable to me. But seeing 
 how the world wags, one must expect anything and 
 everything. 
 
 "My son," said Monsieur d'Astarac, "you do 
 not feed the athanor sufficiently. I perceive that 
 you are not imbued enough with the true love of 
 iire, whose qualities are capable of ripening this 
 mercury and thus forming the marvellous fruit I 
 shall soon be allowed to pluck. More wood! 
 Fire, my son, is the superior element; I have often 
 told you so, and I will give you an example. On a 
 very cold day last winter I went to call on Mosaide 
 in his cottage. I found him seated with his feet on
 
 1 68 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 a foot-warmer, and noticed that the subtle and es- 
 sential particles of the fire that escaped from the 
 stove were powerful enough to swell and puff out 
 the learned man's gathered robe; whence I con- 
 cluded that had the fire been fiercer Mosai'de would, 
 without any doubt about it, have been raised up into 
 the air, as he is verily worthy of such up-raising, 
 and that were it possible to enclose in some ves- 
 sel a large enough quantity of these particles of fire 
 we might thus navigate the clouds as easily 
 as we do to-day the sea and visit the Salamanders 
 in their ethereal abode. I shall think over that in 
 the time to come at leisure. And I do not despair 
 of being able to build one of those fiery vessels my- 
 self. But let us return to our work, and put some 
 wood in the stove." 
 
 He kept me for a considerable time longer in 
 this glowing chamber, whence I thought to escape 
 as quickly as I could to rejoin Jael, to whom I 
 was anxious to impart my woes. At length he left 
 the workshop and I thought I was at liberty. But 
 he disappointed my hopes once again. 
 
 "The weather," said he, "is quite mild to-day, 
 although somewhat cloudy. Would it not be pleas- 
 ant to take a walk in the park with me before con- 
 tinuing your work on Zozimus the Panopolitan, 
 which will do much honour to you and your good 
 master if you finish as well as you have begun." 
 
 Regretfully I followed him to the park, when he 
 addressed me as follows : 
 
 "I am not sorry, my son, to find myself alone 
 with you to warn you, while there is yet time, 
 against a great danger which may one day threaten 
 you, and I reproach myself for not having thought
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 169 
 
 of warning you sooner, for what I have to tell you 
 is of extreme importance." 
 
 Speaking thus he led me to the main alley which 
 descends to the marshes of the Seine, whence one 
 sees Rueil and Mount Valerian with its Calvary. 
 It was his daily walk. The path was practicable, 
 notwithstanding several tree trunks lying across it. 
 
 "It is necessary to make you understand," he 
 pursued, "to what you may be exposed in betraying 
 your Salamander. I shall not question you on your 
 dealings with this supernatural person whom I was 
 fortunate enough to introduce to you. As far as I 
 can judge you seem yourself to feel a certain re- 
 pugnance in discussing her. And perhaps it is 
 praiseworthy on your part. If Salamanders have 
 not the same ideas as have women of the court and 
 of the town on the discretion of their lovers, it is 
 none the less true that it is of the essence of the 
 beauty of love to be inexpressible and that to 
 spread abroad a deep-seated feeling is to profane 
 it. 
 
 "But your Salamander (whose name I could 
 easily discover were I indiscreetly curious) has per- 
 haps not spoken to you of one of her strongest 
 passions which is jealousy. This characteristic is 
 common to all her kind. Bear well in mind, my 
 son Salamanders do not allow themselves to be 
 betrayed with impunity. They wreak a terrible 
 vengeance on the perjured. The divine Paracelsus 
 relates an example which will doubtless suffice to in- 
 spire you with a wholesome dread. Therefore I 
 will make it known to you. In a town in Germany 
 called Staufen there was a spagyric philosopher who, 
 like you, had dealings with a Salamander. He v/as
 
 1 70 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 depraved enough to betray her ignominiously with a 
 woman, pretty it is true, but not impossibly beauti- 
 ful. One evening as he was supping with his new 
 mistress and some friends, the guests saw a glisten- 
 ing limb of marvellous form above their heads. 
 The Salamander showed it in order that they might 
 be sensible that she did not merit the wrong done 
 her by her lover. Whereafter the outraged daugh- 
 ter of the skies struck the faithless one with apo- 
 plexy. The vulgar, which is born to be deceived, 
 thought it a natural death, but the initiated knew by 
 what hand the blow came. My son, it was my duty 
 to give you this advice and this example." 
 
 They were less useful to me than Monsieur 
 d'Astarac thought. While listening to them I cher- 
 ished other matter for alarm. My face doubtless 
 betrayed my anxiety, for the great cabalist having 
 turned his gaze on me asked me whether I did not 
 fear that a pledge undertaken under such severe 
 penalties would prove trying to my youth. 
 
 "I can reassure you on that point," he added. 
 "The Salamander's jealousy is only roused if one 
 puts them on a rival footing with women, and truth 
 to tell it is more resentment, indignation and disgust 
 than real jealousy. Salamanders have too fine a 
 soul and too subtle an intelligence to be envious one 
 of another and to suffer a feeling which harks back 
 to the barbarity in which mankind is still half im- 
 mersed. On the contrary, they make a pleasure of 
 sharing with their companions the delights they en- 
 joy in the company of a sage, and amuse themselves 
 by bringing the prettiest of their sisters to their 
 lovers. You will soon experience that they actually 
 push amiability to the point I have described, and 
 not a year nor even six months will pass before your
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 171 
 
 rooms will be a meeting-place for five or six daugh- 
 ters of the light vying with one another who shall 
 loose before you their dazzling girdles. Do not 
 fear to respond to their caresses, my son. Your 
 friend will take no umbrage, and how should she 
 take offence since she is so wise? In your turn, 
 do not be vexed should your Salamander leave you 
 for a time to visit another philosopher. Look up- 
 on this over-weening jealousy which men bring to 
 the union of sexes as a savage feeling founded on 
 the most absurd illusion. It rests on the idea that 
 a woman is yours when she has given herself to 
 you, which is simply a play upon words." 
 
 While thus holding forth to me, Monsieur 
 d'Astarac had entered on the mandragora path and 
 we already perceived Mosaide's cottage through the 
 foliage, when a terrible voice rang in my ears and 
 made my heart beat violently. It rolled out rau- 
 cous sounds, accompanied by gnashing of teeth, 
 and on drawing near one realised that the 
 sounds were modulated and each phrase terminated 
 in a sort of feeble recitative, which one could not 
 hear without shuddering. 
 
 After taking a few steps forward we could, by 
 straining our ears, grasp the meaning of these 
 strange words. The voice said : 
 
 "Listen to the malediction of Elisha and his 
 curse on the joyful and insolent children. Hark 
 to the anathema which Barak launched at Meroz. 
 
 "I condemn thee in the name of Archithariel, al- 
 so called the lord of battles who holds the shin- 
 ing sword. I devote thee to perdition in the name 
 of Sardaliphon who presents his master with the 
 acceptable flowers and the garlands of merit offered 
 by the children of Israel.
 
 172 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 "Be accursed O dog! and anathema, O swine!" 
 
 On looking whence the voice came we saw Mo- 
 sai'de standing at his doorway his arms raised, his 
 hands like claws with their curved nails which the 
 sunlight appeared to redden. Crowned with his 
 dirty headdress, wrapped in his gaudy robe which 
 opening allowed his thin, bowed legs to appear in 
 their ragged breeches, he looked like some mendi- 
 cant soothsayer, eternal and aged. 
 
 His eyes gleamed. He said: 
 
 "Be thou accursed in the name of the Globes Be 
 thou accursed in the name of the Wheels Be thou 
 accursed in the name of the mysterious Beasts 
 which Ezekiel saw," and he stretched out his long 
 clawed-like arms before him, repeating: 
 
 "In the name of the Globes, in the name of the 
 Wheels, in the name of the mysterious Beasts 
 Go thou down among those who are no more." 
 
 We went a few steps into the wood to see the 
 object to which Mosaide extended his arms, and 
 his wrath, and my surprise was great at discovering 
 Monsieur Jerome Coignard hanging on a thorn tree 
 by his coat. The night's disorder showed all over 
 his person, his cape and hands all torn, his stock- 
 ings stained with mud, his shirt half open, all were 
 pitiable reminders of our common mis-adventures, 
 and, worst of all, his swollen nose, now spoilt that 
 fine and smiling expression which never left his 
 face. 
 
 I rushed towards him and drew him so success- 
 fully out of the thorn-bush that he left there but a 
 fragment of his breeches. And Mosaide having 
 nothing left to curse went back into his house. As 
 he only wore slippers I was enabled to see that his 
 leg was in the middle of his foot so to speak, so
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 173 
 
 that the heel was nearly half as far out behind as 
 the instep in front. This formation rendered his 
 walk extremely ungraceful, which would otherwise 
 have been rather noble. 
 
 "Jacques Tournebroche, my son," said my good 
 master with a sigh, "that Jew must be Isaac Laque- 
 dem * himself to swear thus in all languages. He 
 consigned me to a violent and early death with an 
 abundance of imagery, and he called me a pig in 
 fourteen different idioms, if I counted aright. I 
 should take him to be Anti-Christ, did he not lack 
 several of the signs by which that enemy of the Al- 
 mighty is to be recognised. In any case he is a 
 wicked Jew, and never has the wheel been applied 
 in sign of infamy on the garb of a wilder miscreant. 
 As for him, he deserves not only the wheel which 
 they formerly fastened to the Jews' cloaks, but that 
 wheel to which they fasten evil-doers." 
 
 And my good master, irritated beyond all meas- 
 ure, in his turn shook his fist at Mosaide's back, ac- 
 cusing him of crucifying children and devouring the 
 flesh of new-born infants. 
 
 Monsieur d'Astarac came up to him and touched 
 him on the chest with the ruby he wore on his 
 finger. 
 
 "It is useful," said the great cabalist, "to know 
 the property of precious stones. The ruby ap- 
 peases resentment and you will soon see Monsieur 
 1'Abbe Coignard return to his usual gentleness." 
 
 My good master was already smiling, more from 
 the effect of a philosophy which raised this admir- 
 able man above all human passions, than from the 
 virtue of the stone. For I must own even at the 
 time when my recital darkens and becomes sad- 
 
 * Laquedem, Isaac. The wandering Jew, Dutch name for.
 
 I 7 4 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 dened, Monsieur Jerome Coignard showed me an 
 example of wisdom in circumstances where it is 
 rarest of all to meet with it. 
 
 We asked him the reason of the quarrel. But I 
 understood by the vagueness of his embarrassed re- 
 plies that he had no wish to satisfy our curiosity. 
 I had suspected from the first that Jael was mixed 
 up in it in some manner, my indication being that 
 we heard mingled with the grinding voice of Mo- 
 sai'de the grinding of locks and the outburst of a 
 quarrel in the cottage between the uncle and niece. 
 Having done my very best again to extract some 
 enlightenment from my good master, he said: 
 
 "Hatred of Christians is deep-rooted in the heart 
 of the Jews, and this Mosaide is an odious example 
 of it. I thought I could discern in his horrid 
 mouthings, some portion of the imprecation vom- 
 ited last century by the synagogue on a little Dutch 
 Jew called Baruch or Benedict, known later under 
 the name of Spinoza, for having formulated a phil- 
 osophy which was utterly refuted almost at its birth 
 by able theologians. But this old Mordecai added 
 to them, it seemed to me, many imprecations more 
 horrible still, and I confess that they touched me a 
 little. I was just meditating escape by flight from 
 this torrent of abuse when, to my misfortune, I was 
 caught up in these thorns, and so well seized in dif- 
 ferent parts of my clothes and my skin, that I 
 thought I should have left both one and the other 
 there; and I should be there still in the liveliest pain 
 had not Tournebroche, my pupil, delivered me." 
 
 "Thorns are nothing," said Monsieur d'Astarac. 
 "But I fear, Monsieur 1'Abbe, that you may have 
 stepped on a mandragora."
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 175 
 
 "That is the least of my anxieties," said the 
 Abbe. 
 
 "You are wrong," said Monsieur d'Astarac with 
 vivacity. "It is enough to put your foot on a man- 
 dragora to be tangled in some criminal love and 
 perish miserably therein." 
 
 "Ah, Monsieur!" said my good master, "these 
 are perils indeed, and I see that it is necessary to 
 live close confined within the eloquent walls of the 
 Astaracian, that queen of libraries. I quitted it 
 for a moment and received at my head the Beasts 
 of Ezekiel, without counting the rest." 
 
 "Have you nothing to tell me of Zozimus the 
 Panopolitan?" asked Mojisieur d'Astarac. 
 
 "He goes on his way," replied my good master, 
 "he goes on his way, although a little languidly for 
 the moment." 
 
 "Bethink yourself, Monsieur 1'Abbe," said the 
 cabalist, "that the possession of the greatest secrets 
 is bound up in the knowledge of these ancient 
 texts." 
 
 "I bethink myself of it with the greatest solici- 
 tude," said the Abbe. 
 
 And Monsieur d'Astarac, on receiving this assur- 
 ance, strode off under the trees at the call of the 
 Salamanders, leaving us by the Faun who fingered 
 his flute, careless of his head fallen in the grass be- 
 neath him. 
 
 My good master took me by the arm in the man- 
 ner of one who can at length talk openly: 
 
 "Jacques Tournebroche, my son," said he, "I 
 must not conceal from you that a somewhat 
 strange meeting took place this morning under the 
 house-roof, while you were detained on the first
 
 176 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 floor by that mad fire-blower. For I overheard 
 him perfectly asking you to help him with his cook- 
 ing, which is far less odorous and Christian than 
 that of Maitre Leonard, your father. Alas! when 
 shall I see again the cook-shop of the Reine 
 Pedauque, and Monsieur Blaizot's book-shop, at the 
 sign of St. Catherine, where I took such pleasure 
 in turning over the new books from Amsterdam and 
 The Hague!" 
 
 "Alas!" I exclaimed with tears in my eyes, 
 "when shall I myself see them again? When shall 
 I see once more the Rue St. Jacques where I was 
 born, and my dear parents to whom the news of 
 our misfortunes will cause the most acute grief? 
 But deign to explain, my good master, this some- 
 what strange meeting which you say took place this 
 morning and .also the occurrences of to-day." 
 
 Monsieur Jerome Coignard consented to en- 
 lighten me as I wished. Which he did as follows: 
 
 "You must know, my son, that without hindrance 
 I reached the top floor of the chateau along with 
 this Monsieur d'Anquetil, whom I like well enough, 
 though he is somewhat ill-mannered and illiterate. 
 His mind is not acquainted with what is finest, nor 
 curious beyond its depth. The vivacity of youth 
 sparkles agreeably in him and the generosity of his 
 blood expends itself in amusing sallies. He knows 
 the world as he knows women, from his upper sta- 
 tion and without philosophy. It is mere ingenu- 
 ousness on his part to call himself an atheist. His 
 impiety carries no malice and you will see it will 
 vanish of itself when the heat of his feelings sub- 
 sides. God has no other enemies in this soul but 
 horses, cards and women. In the soul of a true 
 libertine such as Monsieur Bayle, for instance, truth
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 177 
 
 meets with more redoubtable and cunning adversa- 
 ries. But I see, my son, that I am drawing you a 
 portrait and a character when what you want of me 
 is but a plain recital. 
 
 "I will satisfy your wish. Having then reached 
 the top floor of the chateau along with Monsieur 
 d'Anquetil, I showed the young gentleman into 
 your room, and I begged him, in accordance with 
 our promise to him before the fountain, to make 
 use of the room as if it were his own. He did so 
 without more ado, undressed, and merely retaining 
 his boots, got into your bed, whose curtains he 
 closed so as not to be troubled with the piercing 
 light of early dawn, and was not long in falling 
 asleep. 
 
 "As for me, my son, having reached my own 
 room, although overcome with fatigue, I did not 
 wish to taste repose before seeking in Boethius a 
 passage suitable to my position. I found none 
 quite fitting, and in truth the great Boethius had 
 no need to meditate on the disgrace of having 
 broken a Farmer-general's head with a bottle from 
 his own cellar. But I gathered from his admir- 
 able treatise some maxims here and there which 
 permitted of application to the present juncture. 
 
 "Whereupon, drawing my night-cap over my 
 eyes, and recommending my soul to God, I fell 
 asleep quite peacefully. After a period which 
 seemed to me short, without my having had the 
 means to measure it for our actions are the sole 
 measure of time, my son, which is, so to speak, sus- 
 pended for us during sleep, I felt myself being 
 pulled by the arm and heard a voice crying in my 
 ear: 'Eh! 1'Abbe, eh! 1'Abbe, wake up then!' I 
 thought it was a police officer come to arrest me
 
 I 7 8 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 and take me before the magistrate, and I deliber- 
 ated within myself if 'twere not better to break his 
 head with my candlestick. It is unhappily but too 
 true, my son, that once having left the straight 
 path of gentleness and equity, where the sage walks 
 with firm and prudent steps, one sees oneself forced 
 to meet violence with violence, and cruelty with 
 cruelty, in such wise that the consequence of a first 
 transgression is to produce others. We must bear 
 this in mind if we are to understand the life of the 
 Roman Emperors, which Monsieur Crevier * has 
 set down with exactitude. These princes were 
 born no worse than other men, Caius, surnamed 
 Caligula, lacked neither natural talent nor judg- 
 ment, and was even capable of friendship. Nero 
 had an innate love of virtue, and his temperament 
 inclined him towards all that is just and sublime. 
 A first transgression flung them, both one and the 
 other, on the criminal path they followed to their 
 wretched end. That is what Monsieur Crevier 
 shows us in his book. I knew him as an able man 
 when he taught literature at the College of Beau- 
 vais, as I should be doing to-day had not my life 
 been crossed by a thousand obstacles and had not 
 the natural easiness of my spirit led me to divers 
 snares wherein I fell. Monsieur Crevier, my son, 
 was a man of pure life, he professed a severe mor- 
 ality, and I once heard him say that a woman who 
 has broken her marriage vows is capable of the 
 greatest crimes, such as murder and arson. I 
 quote this maxim to give you an idea of the holy 
 austerity of this priest. But I see I am wandering 
 from the point and I hasten to take up my story 
 where I left off. I thought then that the hand of 
 
 Crevier, Jean-Baptiste. Historian, b. Paris, 1693-1765.
 
 THE RHINE PEDAUQUE 179 
 
 the police was on me, and I already saw myself in 
 the Archbishop's prison, when I recognised the face 
 and voice of Monsieur d'Anquetil. 'L'Abbe,' said 
 the young gentleman, 'a singular thing has hap- 
 pened to me in Tournebroche's room. A woman 
 entered the room while I was asleep, slipped into 
 my bed and awoke me with a rain of caresses, ten- 
 der names, soft murmurings and ardent kisses. I 
 opened the curtains to distinguish the features of 
 my good fortune. I saw she was dark, of a pas- 
 sionate eye, and the most beautiful creature in the 
 world. But she then and there gave a loud cry, 
 and fled away in vexation, not so quickly though 
 but that I was enabled to rejoin her in the corridor 
 and hold her in a close embrace. She began by de- 
 fending herself and scratching my face; when I was 
 scratched enough for the satisfaction of her honour 
 we commenced explanations. She heard with pleas- 
 ure that I was a gentleman and none so poor. I 
 soon ceased to appear odious to her and she had 
 begun to wish me well when a scullion passing along 
 the corridor caused her to fly without returning. 
 
 : ' 'As far as I can see,' added Monsieur d'An- 
 quetil, 'this adorable creature came, not for me but 
 for another; she mistook the door, and her surprise 
 was the reason of her flight. But I re-assured her 
 well and had it not been for the scullion I should 
 have won her heart.' I confirmed him in this sup- 
 position. We considered for whom this pretty per- 
 son could well have come, and we both were of ac- 
 cord that it must have been, as I have already told 
 you, Tournebroche, for that old madman of a d'As- 
 tarac, who visits her in intimacy in a room near to 
 yours, or, maybe unknown to you, in your own. 
 Do you not think so?"
 
 i8o AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 "Nothing is more likely," I replied. 
 
 "There is no need to doubt it," said my good 
 master. "This magician mocks us with his Sala- 
 manders. And the truth is that he embraces that 
 pretty girl. He is an imposter." 
 
 I begged my good master to continue his recital. 
 He did so with a good grace. 
 
 "I abridge the discourse held with me by Mon- 
 sieur d'Anquetil," said he. "It is the sign of a low 
 and vulgar mind to enlarge on small events. On 
 the contrary, we ought to put them into few words, 
 tending to conciseness and keeping for moral in- 
 struction and exhortation the abundant rush of 
 words which it is then fitting to pour down like the 
 snow from the mountains. So I shall have instruc- 
 ted you enough in Monsieur d'Anquetil's remarks 
 when I tell you that he assured me he had found in 
 this young girl, a beauty, a charm, and an extra- 
 ordinary grace. He ended his speech by asking me 
 if I knew her name and who she was. 'From the 
 picture you have given me,' I replied, 'I recognise 
 her as Jael, niece of the rabbi Mosai'de, whom I 
 happened to embrace on the same staircase with 
 this difference that it was between the second and 
 third floor.' 
 
 " 'I hope,' said Monsieur d'Anquetil, 'that there 
 were other differences for I, for my part, held her 
 close to me. I am also grieved to hear you say she 
 is a Jewess. For without believing in God, a cer- 
 tain sentiment within me would prefer her to be a 
 Christian. But what does one know of her? Who 
 knows but what she may be a stolen child. Jews 
 and Bohemians go off with some every day. And 
 then one so often fails to remember that the blessed
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 181 
 
 Virgin was a Jewess. Jewess or no, she pleases 
 me. I want her and I will have her.' Thus spoke 
 the foolish youth. But my son, permit me to take 
 a seat on this moss-grown bank, for last night's 
 work, my combats and my flight, have weakened 
 my legs." 
 
 He sat down and drawing his empty snuff-box 
 from his pocket looked at it sadly. 
 
 I sat down by him in a state of agitation and de- 
 pression. His narrative caused me acute pain. I 
 cursed the fate which had put a rough fellow in my 
 place at the very moment when my beloved mistress 
 came to seek me with all the appearance of ardent 
 love, not knowing that I meanwhile was busied pil- 
 ing logs on the alchemist's stove. Jael's more than 
 probable faithfulness cut me to the heart, and I 
 could have wished that my good master had at least 
 observed more discretion before my rival. I risked 
 reproaching him respectfully for having given up 
 Jael's name. 
 
 "Monsieur," I said, "do you not think there was 
 a certain imprudence in furnishing such information 
 to so pleasure-loving and headstrong a gentleman?" 
 
 My good master appeared not to hear me. 
 
 "My snuff-box," said he, "unhappily burst open 
 during the scuffle last night, and the snuff contained 
 therein, mixed with wine in my pocket, is now no 
 more than a disgusting mess. I dare not ask Cri- 
 ton to powder me a few leaves, the countenance of 
 that old Rhadamanthus and serving man appears 
 so cold and severe. I suffer all the more at not 
 being able to take snuff since my nose tickles vio- 
 lently as a result of the blow I received last night, 
 and you see me quite worried by this untimely so-
 
 1 82 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 licitation to which I have nothing to give. I must 
 bear this small misfortune with an equal mind 
 whilst waiting till Monsieur d'Anquetil gives me a 
 few grains from his box. And to return to this 
 young gentleman, my son, he expressly said to me 
 'I love this girl I would have you know, 1'Abbe, 
 that I shall take her with us in the post-chaise. If 
 I have to stay here a week a month six months 
 or more I shall not leave without her.' I repre- 
 sented to him the dangers that might be incurred 
 by the least delay. But he answered me that those 
 dangers troubled him the less; that they were great 
 for us but small for him. 
 
 ' 'You, 1'Abbe, 1 said he, 'are in a fair way to be 
 hanged with Tournebroche, while, as for me I only 
 risk being sent to the Bastille, where I shall find 
 both cards and women, and whence my family will 
 soon liberate me, for my father will interest some 
 duchess or some dancer in my case, and not with- 
 standing my mother having become pious, she will 
 know how, on my behalf, to bring herself to the 
 memory of two or three princes of the blood. So 
 it is a settled thing I leave with Jael or not at 
 all. You are at liberty, 1'Abbe, to hire a post- 
 chaise with Tournebroche.' 
 
 "The wretch well knew, my son, that we had not 
 the means to do so. I tried to make him go back 
 on his word. I was pressing, unctuous, and even 
 exhortatory. It was pure waste, and in vain I 
 made use of an eloquence which in the pulpit of a 
 good parish church would have been worth both 
 honour and money to me. Alas! my son it is 
 decreed that none of my actions should bear good 
 fruit in this world, and it is for me that it is written 
 in Ecclesiastes :
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 183 
 
 Quid habet amplius homo de universo labore suo, quo la- 
 borat sub sole? 
 
 "Far from making him more reasonable, my 
 speech strengthened the young man in his obstinacy, 
 and I will not conceal the fact from you, my son, 
 that he made plain to me that he counted on me 
 absolutely for the success of his wishes, and he 
 pressed me to go and find Jael, so as to persuade 
 her to agree to an elopement with the promise of 
 a trousseau of fine linen, silver plate, jewels and a 
 good income." 
 
 "Oh! Monsieur," I exclaimed, "this Monsieur 
 d'Anquetil is uncommonly insolent. What do you 
 think Jael will reply to these proposals when she 
 hears of them?" 
 
 "My son," he replied, "she knows them by this 
 time and I think will accede to them." 
 
 "In that case," I replied quickly, "we must warn 
 Mosai'de." 
 
 "Mosaide," answered my master, "is only too 
 well warned. You heard a little time ago, in the 
 neighbourhood of the cottage, the last outburst of 
 his anger." 
 
 "What, Monsieur," said I deeply moved, "you 
 warned that Jew of the dishonour about to touch 
 his family. It was just like you. Allow me to 
 embrace you. But then Mosai'de's wrath, to which 
 we were witness, threatened Monsieur d'Anquetil, 
 and not you?" 
 
 "My son," replied the Abbe, in an honest and 
 noble manner, "a natural indulgence for human 
 frailty, an obliging gentleness, the imprudent be- 
 nevolence of a heart too easily touched, all these 
 lead men oftentimes to ill-considered measures, and
 
 i8 4 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 expose them to the severity of the world's empty 
 judgment. I will not hide from you, Tourne- 
 broche, that, yielding to the young gentleman's 
 earnest appeals, I obligingly promised to go and 
 find Jael for him, and to neglect nothing to make 
 her agree to an elopement." 
 
 "Alas!" I exclaimed, "and you fulfilled that dis- 
 mal promise ! I cannot tell you to what extent 
 your action wounds and afflicts me!" 
 
 "Tournebroche," answered my good master 
 sternly, "you speak like a Pharisee. A divine, ami- 
 able as he was austere, has said: Turn your eyes 
 upon yourself, and beware of judging the actions of 
 others. Judging others, one works in vain; one 
 is often mistaken, and easily falls into sin, 
 whereas in self-examination and self-judgment 
 the occupation is profitable. It is written: 
 Thou shalt not fear the judgment of men! St. 
 Paul the Apostle has said: It is a very small 
 thing that I should be judged ... of men's judg- 
 ment. 
 
 "And if I thus lecture on the finest moral texts, it 
 is to instruct you, Tournebroche, and to recall you 
 to the humble and gentle modesty which suits you, 
 and not to make myself appear innocent, weighed 
 down and overcome as I am by the multitude of my 
 sins. It is hard not to slip into sin, and it befits us 
 not to fall into despair at each step we take in this 
 world, where all participate equally in the original 
 curse, and in the redemption effected by the blood 
 of the Son of God. I do not want to lend colour to 
 my faults, and I confess to you that the embassy 
 which I undertook on behalf of Monsieur d'Anque- 
 til proceeds from the fall of Eve, and is, so to
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 185 
 
 speak, one of the innumerable consequences of it, 
 conflicting with the dolorous and abject opinion I 
 hold of it at present, which is drawn from the de- 
 sire and hope of my eternal salvation. For you 
 must imagine mankind balanced between damnation 
 and redemption, and tell yourself that I am at this 
 moment at the right end of the see-saw, after being 
 at the wrong end this morning. I own, then, that 
 having taken the mandragora path which leads to 
 Mosai'de's cottage, I hid myself behind a thorn- 
 bush, waiting for Jael to appear at her window. 
 She soon showed herself. I discovered myself and 
 signed to her to come down. She came and found 
 me behind the bush at a time when she thought to 
 deceive the vigilance of her old guardian. There 
 I told her in a low voice the night's adventures, of 
 which she was still in ignorance, I made known to 
 her the designs the impetuous young man had upon 
 her, I represented to her that it was necessary in 
 his interest as well as in yours and mine, Tourne- 
 broche, that she should assure our flight by her own 
 departure. I dangled before her eyes Monsieur 
 d'Anquetil's promises. 'If,' said I, 'you consent to 
 follow him to-night, you shall have a good wel- 
 come, a trousseau richer than that of an opera 
 singer, or that of an Abbess de Panthemont, and a 
 fine service of silverplate.' 
 
 " 'He takes me for a light woman,' said she, 'he 
 is over bold.' 
 
 " 'He loves you,' I replied. 'Do you wish to be 
 worshipped?' 
 
 " 'I must have a silver centre-piece and a massive 
 one. Did he speak to you of that? Go and tell 
 him, Monsieur 1'Abbe. . . .'
 
 1 86 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 " 'What shall I tell him?' That I am an honest 
 woman.' 'What more?' 
 
 " That he is very forward !' 'Is that all ? Jael, 
 think of our safety!' 
 
 ' Tell him then, I only consent to go providing 
 a note in proper form is signed the evening before.' 
 
 " 'He will sign it. Consider it done.' 
 
 " 'No, 1'Abbe nothing can be done until he un- 
 dertakes to give me lessons with Monsieur Coup- 
 erin. I want to learn music.' 
 
 "We were at this clause of our conference when, 
 as ill-luck had it, the aged Mosaide surprised us, 
 and without hearing our conversation divined its 
 drift. For he began to call me suborner and to 
 load me with abuse. Jael ran to hide in her room, 
 and I remained alone exposed to the fury of this 
 deicide, in the state in which you saw me and 
 whence you extricated me. Truth to tell the affair 
 was so to speak concluded, the elopement agreed 
 upon, our flight assured. The Wheels and the 
 Beasts of Ezekiel shall not prevail against the sil- 
 ver centre-piece. I only fear lest that old Morde- 
 cai should enclose his niece behind triple bolts and 
 bars." 
 
 "In truth," I replied, without being able to dis- 
 guise my satisfaction, "I heard a great noise of keys 
 and bolts at the very moment when I drew you from 
 among the thorns. But is it really true that Jael 
 agreed so quickly to proposals which were far from 
 honest and must have cost you something to trans- 
 mit to her. It confounds me. Tell me once more, 
 my good master, did she not speak of me did she 
 not pronounce my name, sighing, or otherwise?" 
 
 "No, my son," replied Monsieur 1'Abbe Coig- 
 nard, "she did not pronounce it, at least not percep-
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 187 
 
 tibly. Neither did I hear her murmur that of 
 Monsieur d'Astarac her lover, which should have 
 been more present with her than yours. But be 
 not surprised that she should forget her alchemist. 
 The mere possessing of a woman does not suffice 
 to imprint upon her mind any profound or durable 
 impression. Minds are impenetrable to one an- 
 other, and this shows you the cruel emptiness of 
 love. The wise man will say to himself: I am as 
 nothing in the nothing that this creature is. To 
 hope to leave a memory in the heart of a woman 
 is to wish to stamp the imprint of a seal on the 
 face of running water. Let us then beware of set- 
 ting our hearts upon what passes away, and lay hold 
 on that which is undying." 
 
 "Any way," I replied, "Jael is under sound locks, 
 and we may trust to the vigilance of her guardian." 
 
 "My son," continued my good master, "this very 
 night she should join us at the Cheval Rouge. 
 Darkness is propitious to escapes, ravishments, fur- 
 tive attempts, and clandestine actions. We must 
 rely on the cunning of this girl. As to yourself, 
 take care that you are at the cross roads of Ber- 
 geres at twilight. You know that Monsieur d'An- 
 quetil is not patient and that he is just the man to 
 go off without you." 
 
 As he gave me this advice the bell rang for 
 breakfast. 
 
 "Have you not a needle and thread?" he asked 
 me, "my clothes are torn in several places, and be- 
 fore I appear at table I should like to restore them, 
 with a few stitches, to their former decency. My 
 breeches particularly disquiet me. They are so 
 injured that unless I come to their assistance 
 promptly it will be all over with them."
 
 XVIII 
 
 O I took my usual place at the 
 cabalist's table with the distressing 
 thought that it was for the last time. 
 Jael's black treachery weighed on 
 my heart. "Alas!" I said to my- 
 self, "my dearest wish was to fly 
 with her. There was no likelihood 
 of its being realised. Nevertheless it is to be and in 
 the most cruel fashion." And I fell to admiring 
 once again my good master's wisdom, who, one day 
 I wanted too keenly that something should succeed, 
 answered me with these words from the Bible: 
 "Et tribuit eis petitionem eorum." My sorrows 
 and my anxieties took away all my appetite and I 
 hardly put the various viands to my lips. How- 
 ever, my good master kept his unalterable suavity 
 of mind. He overflowed with agreeable conversa- 
 tion and one would have said that he was one of 
 those sages shown to us in Telemaque conversing 
 in the shades of the Elysian fields, rather than a 
 man sought for as a murderer and reduced to a 
 wretched and wandering life. 
 
 Monsieur d'Astarac, thinking I had passed the 
 night at the cook-shop, asked me kindly for news 
 of my good parents, and as he could not abstract 
 himself for a moment from his visions he added: 
 "When I speak of that cook as your father it is to 
 be understood that I express myself thus according 
 to the world and not according to nature. For 
 there is nothing to prove, my son, that you were 
 1 88
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 189 
 
 not fathered by a Sylph. It is indeed what I 
 should prefer to believe, however little your still 
 youthful talent may grow in strength and beauty." 
 
 "Oh do not speak thus, Monsieur," replied my 
 good master with a smile, "you will force him to 
 hide his wits that he may not injure his mother's 
 good name. But if you knew her better, you would 
 think, as I do, that she has never had any dealings 
 with a Sylph; she is a good Christian who has 
 known no man but her husband, and who bears her 
 good character written on her face, very different 
 from that other cook's wife, Madame Quonian, of 
 whom there was much talk in Paris and the prov- 
 inces in the days of my youth. Did you never hear 
 of her, Monsieur? She had the Sieur Mariette for 
 a lover, he who later became secretary to Monsieur 
 d'Angervilliers. He was a burly man, who, each 
 time that he saw his lady-love, left her some bauble 
 as a remembrance one day a Croix de Lorraine, 
 another day a St. Esprit, a watch or a chatelaine. 
 Or, yet again, a handkerchief, a fan, or a casket; he 
 stripped the jewelers' and drapers' shops at the fair 
 of St. Germain for her, till at last the cook, seeing 
 his wife decked like a shrine, had a suspicion that it 
 was not all honestly come by. He watched her and 
 it was not long before he surprised her with her 
 lover. You must understand that the husband was 
 a mere jealous wretch. He was angry, and gained 
 nothing thereby quite the contrary. For the two 
 lovers, annoyed by his outcry, swore to be rid of 
 him. 
 
 "The Sieur Mariette had a long arm. He ob- 
 tained a lettre de cachet in the name of the 
 wretched Quonian. Meanwhile, the treacherous 
 wife said to her husband:
 
 190 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 * 'Take me to dine in the country next Sunday, I 
 beg of you. I look forward with pleasure to this 
 little excursion.' 
 
 "She was loving and urgent. The husband, flat- 
 tered, agreed to what she asked. Sunday come, 
 he mounted into a ramshackle carriage with her to 
 go to Porcherons. But scarcely had they reached 
 Roule, when a troup of police, posted there by 
 Mariette, arrested him and took him to Bicetre, 
 whence he was sent out to the Mississippi where he 
 is still. They made a song about it which ended 
 thus: 
 
 Wise husbands will live undistressed 
 Nor open their eyes over wide. 
 It is better to be as the rest, 
 Than to see Mississippi's far tide. 
 
 "And that, no doubt, is the most valuable lesson 
 to be drawn from the case of poor Quonian of the 
 spit. 
 
 "As for the incident, itself it only wants telling 
 by a Petronius or an Apuleius to equal the best of 
 the Milesian fables. The moderns are inferior to 
 the ancients in tragedy and the minor epic. But if 
 we fail to surpass the Greeks and Latins in the tell- 
 ing of the story, it is not the fault of the ladies 
 of Paris, who never tire of enriching the subject 
 matter by many ingenious turns and pleasing inven- 
 tions. You are not without knowledge of Boccac- 
 cio's collection of tales, Monsieur: I have often 
 read them for amusement's sake and I assure you 
 that if the Florentine lived in France to-day he 
 would make poor Quonian's misfortune the sub- 
 ject of one of his most amusing stories. For my 
 part I have only recounted it while sitting here to
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 191 
 
 make brighter by contrast the virtue of Madams 
 Leonard Tournebroche, who is the pride of her hus* 
 band's profession as Madame Quonian was the 
 shame of it. Madame Tournebroche, I dare make 
 the assertion, has never been wanting in the lesser 
 virtues whose practice is recommended in marriage, 
 which alone of the seven sacraments is contempt- 
 ible." 
 
 "I do not deny it," replied Monsieur d'Astarac. 
 "But this Madame Tournebroche would be still 
 more estimable had she had dealings with a Sylph, 
 after the example of Semiramis, Olympias, and the 
 mother of the great Pope Sylvester II." 
 
 "Ah! Monsieur," said 1'Abbe Coignard, "you arc 
 always talking of Sylphs and Salamanders. In 
 good faith have you ever seen them?" 
 
 "As well as I see you," replied Monsieur d'As- 
 tarac, "and even nearer, at least as regards the Sal- 
 amanders." 
 
 "Monsieur," continued my good master, "still 
 that is not enough for us to believe in their exist- 
 ence, which is contrary to the teachings of the 
 Church. For we may be led astray by illusions. 
 Our eyes and all our senses are but messengers of 
 error and bearers of falsehood. They deceive us 
 far more than they instruct us. They show us but 
 uncertain and fugitive pictures. Truth escapes 
 them; deriving from the eternal principle, truth is 
 invisible as it." 
 
 "Ah!" said Monsieur d'Astarac, "I did not know 
 you were such a philosopher nor of so subtle a 
 mind." 
 
 "Truly," said my good master, "there are days 
 when my soul seems heavier, and more attached to 
 the bed and the board. But last night I broke a
 
 192 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 bottle over the head of a Revenue officer, and it 
 has freshened my wits to an extraordinary degree. 
 I feel capable of scattering the ghosts which haunt 
 you and of blowing away all these vapours. For 
 indeed, Monsieur, these Sylphs are but the exhala- 
 tions of your brain." 
 
 Monsieur d'Astarac stopped him with a quiet ges- 
 ture and said: "Pardon me, Monsieur 1'Abbe, but 
 do you believe in demons?" 
 
 "I can reply to that without any difficulty," said 
 my good master, "for I believe all that is told us of 
 demons in good books, and I reject as error and 
 superstition all belief in spells, amulets and exor- 
 cisms. St. Augustine tells us that when Scripture ex- 
 horts us to resist the devil, it means we should re- 
 sist our evil passions and our unbridled appetites. 
 Nothing is more detestable than all these bedevil- 
 ments with which monks terrorise honest women." 
 
 "I see," said Monsieur d'Astarac, "that you en- 
 deavour to think like an honest man. You hate 
 the coarse superstitions of the monks as much as 
 I detest them myself. But still you believe in de- 
 mons, and I had no difficulty in making you avow 
 it. Know then that they are none other than 
 Sylphs and Salamanders. Ignorance and fear have 
 disfigured them in the imaginations of the timid. 
 But in reality they are beautiful and virtuous. 
 I will not put you in the way of meeting with the 
 Salamanders, not being sufficiently assured of the 
 purity of your morals; but there is nothing to hin- 
 der me from inducing you to frequent the Sylphs, 
 Monsieur 1'Abbe, they who inhabit the fields of 
 the air, and who approach men willingly in so benev- 
 olent and affectionate a spirit that it has been pos- 
 sible to call them the helpful Genii. Far from
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 193 
 
 pushing us towards our ruin, as theologians be- 
 lieve who take them to be devils, they protect and 
 guard their earthly friends from all peril. I could 
 give, you an infinite number of examples of the 
 help they give. But as there must be a limit I will 
 permit myself but one story which I have from 
 Madame la Marechale de Grancey herself. She 
 was of a certain age, and had been a widow for 
 some years, when one night in bed she received a 
 visit from a Sylph, who said to her: 'Madame, 
 make search in the wardrobe of your late husband. 
 In the pocket of one of his pairs of knee-breeches 
 will be found a letter, which were its contents 
 known, would prove the undoing of Monsieur des 
 Roches, your good friend and mine. See that it 
 is given to you, and take care to burn it.' 
 
 "The Marechale promised to follow this advice, 
 and asked the Sylph for news of the defunct Mare- 
 chal, but he disappeared without replying. 
 
 "When she awoke she called her women to her 
 and sent them to see if there were any clothes of 
 the Marechal's remaining in his cupboard. They 
 replied that there were none, and that the lackeys 
 had sold them all to the old-clothes man. Madame 
 de Grancey insisted that they should search and 
 see if they could not find at least one pair of knee- 
 breeches. Having ransacked every corner they dis- 
 covered at last an old pair of black taffeta breeches 
 which laced up in the fashion of a former time; 
 these they brought to the Marechale. The latter 
 put her hand in one of the pockets and drew out a 
 letter, which she opened and found therein more 
 than was necessary to ensure Monsieur des Roches 
 being sent to a state prison. She made all speed 
 to throw this letter in the fire. Thus the gentle-
 
 I 9 4 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 man was saved by his good friends the Sylph and 
 the Marechale. 
 
 "I ask you, Monsieur 1'Abbe, were those the 
 ways of a demon? But I will give you an instance 
 which will appeal to you more, and which I feel cer- 
 tain will touch the heart of a learned man like your- 
 self. You are well aware that the Academy of 
 Dijon is rich in men of able minds. One of them, 
 whose name is not unknown to you, who lived in 
 the last century, was spending learned vigils on an 
 edition of Pindar. One night when he had worked 
 desperately on five lines whose meaning he could 
 not unravel, the text being very corrupt, he fell 
 asleep despairing at cock-crow. During his slum- 
 ber a Sylph, who loved him, transported him in 
 spirit to Stockholm, introduced him into the palace 
 of Queen Christina, led him to the library, and 
 drawing a manuscript of Pindar from one of the 
 shelves opened it for him at the difficult passage. 
 The five lines were there with two or three good 
 comments which made them quite intelligible. 
 
 "In his vehement joy the learned man awoke, 
 struck a light, and immediately set down the lines 
 in pencil as he remembered them. Whereupon he 
 slept profoundly. The next day, reflecting upon 
 his nocturnal adventure, he resolved to get light on 
 it. Monsieur Descartes was in Sweden at the time, 
 with the Queen, to whom he was teaching his phi- 
 losophy. Our Pindarist was acquainted with him; 
 but he was on more familiar footing with the King 
 of Sweden's ambassador in France one Monsieur 
 Chanut. He addressed himself to the latter to for- 
 ward a letter to Monsieur Descartes, in which he 
 begged him to tell him if there was really a manu- 
 script of Pindar in the Queen's library at Stock-
 
 THE RHINE PEDAUQUE 195 
 
 holm containing the different reading he now in- 
 dicated. Monsieur Descartes, who was extremely 
 civil, replied to the academician of Dijon that Her 
 Majesty did in truth possess such a manuscript, and 
 that he himself had read therein the lines with the 
 different reading contained in the letter." 
 
 Monsieur d'Astarac, having related this story 
 while peeling an apple, looked at Abbe Coignard 
 to see the success of his speech. 
 
 My good master smiled. 
 
 "Ah! Monsieur," said he, "I see that I flat- 
 tered myself a moment ago with a vain hope, and 
 we shall never make you renounce your chimeras. 
 I grant you with a good grace that you have shown 
 us an ingenious Sylph, and I should like to have so 
 pleasing a secretary. His help would be particu- 
 larly useful to me in one or two passages of Zozi- 
 mus the Panopolitan which are extremely obscure. 
 Could you not give me the means of invoking at 
 need some library Sylph as handy as the one at 
 Dijon?" 
 
 Monsieur d'Astarac replied gravely. " 'Tis a 
 secret, Monsieur 1'Abbe, which I will confide to you 
 willingly. But I warn you that if you impart it to 
 the profane your ruin is certain." 
 
 "Have no fear," said the Abbe. "I am very 
 anxious to know such a valuable secret, although, 
 to speak plainly, I expect no result, not believing in 
 your Sylphs. So instruct me if you please." 
 
 "You demand it?" said the cabalist. "Know, 
 then, that when you wish for help from a Sylph you 
 have but to pronounce the one word Agla. Im- 
 mediately the sons of the air will fly towards you, 
 but you will understand, Monsieur 1'Abbe, this word 
 must be spoken from the heart as well as with the
 
 196 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 lips, and that in faith lies all its virtue. Without 
 faith it is but an empty murmur. And as I have 
 just said it, without either expression or desire, it 
 has, even in my mouth, but feeble power, and at 
 most some Sons of the Morning, hearing it, may 
 train their light shadows through the room. I 
 rather guessed at than perceived them; I saw them 
 on that curtain, and they vanished before they took 
 shape. Neither you nor your pupil suspected their 
 presence. But had I pronounced the magic word 
 with true expression you would have seen them ap- 
 pear in all their glory. They are of entrancing 
 beauty. Here, Monsieur 1'Abbe, you have from 
 me a great and useful secret. Once more let me 
 beg you not to divulge it imprudently. And do 
 not overlook the case of the Abbe de Villars, who, 
 for having revealed their secrets, was assassinated 
 by the Sylphs on the Lyons road." 
 
 "On the Lyons road," said my good master. 
 "That is strange !" 
 
 Monsieur d'Astarac left us in his sudden fashion. 
 
 "I mean to ascend once more," said the Abbe 
 "to that august library where I tasted such austere 
 delights and which I shall never see again. Do 
 not fail, Tournebroche, to be at the cross roads of 
 Bergeres at night-fall." 
 
 I promised not to fail him; I had planned to shut 
 myself in my room to write to Monsieur d'Astarac 
 and my good parents that they must forgive my not 
 taking leave of them, fleeing as I did after an ad- 
 venture in which I had been more unfortunate than 
 culpable. 
 
 But on the landing I heard snores issuing from 
 my room and on opening the door I saw Monsieur 
 d'Anquetil asleep on my bed his sword against the
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 197 
 
 bed-post and playing-cards spread all over the 
 coverlet. I had the desire for a moment to stab 
 him with his own sword, but this notion was dis- 
 sipated as soon as born and I let him sleep, smiling 
 to myself in my sorrow at the thought that Jael 
 shut behind triple bolts could not come and 
 join him. 
 
 I went into my good master's room to write my 
 letters, where I disturbed five or six rats who were 
 nibbling the volume of Boethius on the bed-side 
 table. I wrote to Monsieur d'Astarac and to my 
 mother, and I composed a most affecting letter for 
 Jael. I re-read it and wet it with my tears 
 "Perchance," said I to myself, "the faithless one 
 will mingle hers with them." 
 
 Then, overcome with fatigue and melancholy, I 
 threw myself on my good master's mattress and was 
 not long in falling into a half-slumber troubled by 
 dreams at once amorous and gloomy. I was drawn 
 from my slumbers by the speechless Criton who 
 entered the room and held out to me on a silver 
 tray an iris-scented curl-paper where I read a few 
 words written in pencil in an awkward hand I 
 was wanted outside on urgent business. The note 
 was signed: "Brother Ange, unworthy monk." 
 
 I ran to the green door and I found the little 
 brother in the road sitting beside the ditch in a 
 pitiable state of prostration. Not having strength 
 to rise at my approach, he turned on me the dog- 
 like gaze of two big eyes, almost human, and 
 drowned in tears. His bearded chest heaved be- 
 neath his sighs. He said to me in a tone that car- 
 ried grief: 
 
 "Alas! Monsieur Jacques, the hour of trial has 
 come to Babylon, as was spoken by the prophets.
 
 198 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 On information given by Monsieur de la Gueritaude 
 to the head of the police, Catherine was taken to 
 the reformatory by the officers and will be sent to 
 America in the next convoy. I had the news from 
 Jeannette the viol-player, who, at the moment when 
 Catherine arrived in the cart at the reformatory, 
 was just leaving it herself, after having been kept 
 there through illness of which she is now cured by 
 the surgeon's art at least if God wills. As re- 
 gards Catherine she will be sent to the islands with- 
 out mercy." 
 
 And at this point of his story brother Ange cried 
 copiously. After trying to stop his tears with kind 
 words, I asked him if he had nothing else to tell 
 me. 
 
 "Alas ! Monsieur Jacques," he replied, "I have 
 told you what was the most essential, and the rest 
 floats in my head like the Spirit of God on the 
 waters though I mean no comparison. It is all 
 obscure chaos. Catherine's misfortune has de- 
 stroyed all feeling in me. Nevertheless I must have 
 had news of some importance to communicate to 
 you, thus to risk coming to the door of this cursed 
 house, where you live in company with all kinds of 
 devils, and it was with terror, after reciting the 
 prayer to St. Francis that I dared raise the knocker 
 to give a servant the note I had written to you. 
 I do not know if you have been able to read it, I 
 am so little accustomed to forming letters, and the 
 paper was not good to write upon, but it is the 
 pride of our sacred order not to yield to the van- 
 ities of the age. Oh! Catherine in the reform- 
 atory! Catherine in America! Is it not enough 
 to melt the hardest heart? Jeannette herself was 
 crying her eves out over it, although she is jeal-
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 199 
 
 ous of Catherine, who outshines her in beauty and 
 youth as St. Francis surpasses all other saints in 
 holiness. Ah, Monsieur Jacques ! Catherine in 
 America ! such are the extraordinary ways of Provi- 
 dence ! Alas! our holy religion says truth, and 
 King David was right when he said that all flesh 
 was grass, for Catherine is in the reformatory. 
 These stones on which I sit are happier than I, al- 
 though I am clad as a Christian and even as a monk. 
 Catherine in the reformatory!" 
 
 He sobbed afresh. I waited till the torrent of 
 his woes had abated and I asked him if he had 
 news of my dear parents. 
 
 "Monsieur Jacques," he answered, "it is they 
 who sent me to you charged with an urgent message. 
 I must tell you they are not at all happy, it is the 
 fault of Maitre Leonard your father, who passes 
 all the days God gives him in drinking and in play. 
 And the savoury steam of chickens and geese no 
 longer rises as once towards the Reine Pedauque 
 whose picture swings dismally in the wet and rust- 
 ing winds. Where are the days gone when your 
 father's cook-shop would scent the rue St. Jacques 
 from the Petit Bacchus to the Trois Pucelles? 
 Since that sorcerer entered there everything wastes 
 away, man and beast, as a result of the spell he cast 
 on it. And divine vengeance has begun to manifest 
 in the place ever since that fat Abbe Coignard was 
 received whilst I, on the contrary, was turned out. 
 It was the primary cause of the evil, which came 
 from 1'Abbe Coignard being so proud of the depth 
 of his knowledge and of the elegance of his man- 
 ners. For pride is the source of all sin. Your 
 sainted mother did very wrong, Monsieur Jacques, 
 not to be satisfied with the lessons I charitably gave
 
 200 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 you, which would without doubt have made you cap- 
 able of ruling the kitchen, handling the larding- 
 pin and bearing the banner of the fraternity after 
 the Christian death of your father, whose last serv- 
 ice and funeral cannot be long delayed for all 
 life is transitory and he drinks exceedingly hard." 
 
 The news caused me a grief easy to understand. 
 I mingled my tears with the little brother's. At 
 the same time I asked him for news of my good 
 mother. 
 
 "God," he made reply, "who was pleased to af- 
 flict Rachel in Ramah, has sent your mother, Mon- 
 sieur Jacques, divers tribulations for the good of 
 her soul, and for the purpose of chastising Maitre 
 Leonard for his sin, when in my person he wickedly 
 drove Jesus Christ from the cook-shop. For He 
 has transferred the greater part of the purchasers 
 of poultry and pasties to Madame Quonian's 
 daughter, who turns the spit at the other end of 
 the rue St. Jacques. Your respected mother sees 
 with sorrow that He has blessed that house at the 
 expense of her own, which is so deserted now that 
 moss all but covers the doorstep. She is upheld in 
 her trials firstly by her devotion to St. Francis, and 
 secondly, by thought of your success in the world 
 where you bear a sword like a man of quality. 
 
 "But this second consolation was greatly dimin- 
 ished this morning, when the police came to seek 
 you at the shop to take you to Bicetre to pound lime 
 for a year or two. It was Catherine who de- 
 nounced you to Monsieur de la Gueritaude, but one 
 must not blame her, she merely confessed the truth 
 which it was her duty to do, seeing she is a Chris- 
 tian. She designated you and Monsieur 1'Abbe 
 Coignard as Monsieur d'Anquetil's accomplices,
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 201 
 
 and gave a faithful account of the murders and 
 carnage of that awful night. Alas ! her candour 
 availed her nothing and she was taken to the re- 
 formatory! It is horrible to think about." 
 
 At this point in his story the little brother put his 
 head in his hands and cried afresh. 
 
 Night had fallen. I feared to miss the rendez- 
 vous. Dragging the little brother out of the ditch 
 where he was half buried, I put him on his feet and 
 begged him to continue his narrative accompanying 
 me meanwhile on the St. Germain's road as far as 
 the cross roads of Bergeres. He acceded willingly, 
 and walking sadly beside me asked me to try and 
 unravel the tangled thread of his thoughts. I led 
 him back to the point when the police came to take 
 me at the cook-shop. 
 
 "Not finding you," he continued, "they wanted 
 to take your father in your place. Maitre Leonard 
 pretended he did not know where you were hidden, 
 your respected mother said the same thing, with 
 many vows, may God forgive her, Monsieur, for 
 she was evidently perjuring herself. The police 
 began to be angry. Your father made them listen 
 to reason by giving them drink. And they parted 
 quite good friends. During this time your mother 
 went and fetched me from the Trots Pucelles, 
 where I was begging in accordance with the holy 
 rules of my order. She sent me with all haste to 
 you to warn you to fly without delay, for fear that 
 the lieutenant of police should discover the house 
 where you are living." 
 
 While listening to these gloomy words I hastened 
 my steps and we had already crossed the bridge of 
 Neuilly. 
 
 On the somewhat steep hill which mounts up to
 
 202 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 the cross roads whose elms we could already dis- 
 tinguish, the little brother continued talking in an 
 exhausted voice. 
 
 "Your worthy mother," said he "especially com- 
 manded me to warn you of the peril which threatens 
 you and she gave me a little bag for you, which I 
 hid under my robe. I cannot find it though," he 
 added, after feeling himself all over. "And how 
 can you expect me to find anything after losing 
 Catherine? She had a great devotion for St. Fran- 
 cis and was very charitable. Yet they have treated 
 her as a harlot, and will shave her head, and it is 
 terrible to think that she will come to look like a 
 dress-maker's dummy and in that state she will 
 be shipped to America, where she will risk dying 
 of fever or being eaten by savage cannibals." 
 
 He finished his recital with a sigh as we reached 
 the cross roads. On our left the inn, the Cheval 
 Rouge, lifted above a double row of elms its 
 slate-covered roof and dormer windows provided 
 with pulleys, and through the trees one saw the 
 carriage entrance wide open. I slackened my steps, 
 and the little brother sank down under a tree. 
 
 "Brother Ange," said I, "you spoke of a packet 
 my good mother begged you to give me." 
 
 "She did, indeed, ask me to do so," replied the 
 little brother, "and I have put the packet away so 
 carefully somewhere that I do not know where it 
 can be, but please believe, Monsieur Jacques, that I 
 can only have .lost it through over-much precau- 
 tion." 
 
 I answered him \mpetuously that he could not 
 have lost it, and if he did not immediately find it 
 I would help him myself to look for it. 
 
 He was not insensible to the tone of my words,
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 203 
 
 for with a heavy sigh he drew from under his robe 
 a small calico bag which he regretfully held out to 
 me. I found therein an ecu of six livres and a 
 medal of the Black Virgin of Chartres, which I 
 kissed while shedding tears of emotion and repen- 
 tance. Meanwhile the little brother was drawing 
 packets of coloured pictures out of all of his pock- 
 ets, and prayers decorated with coarse drawings. 
 He picked out one or two which he offered to me 
 in preference to the others as being more useful in 
 his opinion, for pilgrims, and travellers, and all 
 wandering people. 
 
 "They are blessed," he told me, "and efficacious 
 when in danger of death or sickness, either by re- 
 citing them aloud or by touching and placing them 
 on the skin. I give them to you, Monsieur Jacques, 
 for the love of God. Remember to give me 
 some alms. Do not forget that I beg in the name 
 of St. Francis. He will take you under his protec- 
 tion without fail, if you assist his most unworthy 
 son which I certainly am." 
 
 While he spoke in this fashion, I saw in the fad- 
 ing light of day a berline with four horses drive 
 out of the carriage entrance of the Cheval Rouge 
 and take its place with noisy clackings of the whip 
 and neighing of horses at the road-side, quite near 
 to the tree under which brother Ange was seated. 
 I noticed then that it was not exactly a berline, but 
 a big carriage with places for four people, with a 
 rather small coupe in front. I had been looking 
 at it for a minute or two, when I saw Monsieur 
 d'Anquetil climbing up the hill accompanied by Jael 
 in a mob cap carrying some bundles under her cloak 
 and followed by Monsieur Coignard laden with five 
 or six ancient books wrapped in an old manuscript.
 
 204 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 At their approach the postilions let down the steps, 
 and my pretty mistress, drawing up her skirts like 
 a balloon, hoisted herself into the coupe, pushed 
 from behind by Monsieur d'Anquetil. 
 
 At this sight I ran forward crying: 
 
 "Stop, Jael! Stop, Monsieur!" But the sedu- 
 cer merely pushed the faithless one the harder, and 
 her charming curves were soon lost to sight. Then, 
 preparing to join her, one foot on the step, he 
 looked at me in surprise : 
 
 "Ah, Monsieur Tournebroche ! You would take 
 all my mistresses from me! First Catherine and 
 then Jael. I vow it must be a wager." 
 
 But I took no notice of him and I still called on 
 Jael, while brother Ange, having risen from the 
 shade of his elm-tree, went and stood by the door 
 offering Monsieur d'Anquetil pictures of Saint 
 Roche, a prayer to recite while horses are being 
 shod, and the prayer against erysipelas, and asked 
 for alms in a mournful voice. 
 
 I should have remained there all night calling on 
 Jael if my good master had not drawn me towards 
 him and pushed me into the body of the carriage 
 whither he followed me. 
 
 "Leave them the coupe," he said, "and let us 
 travel together in this roomy body. I sought you 
 for a long time, Tournebroche, and I will not dis- 
 guise the fact that we were going without you, 
 when I perceived you and the monk under the tree. 
 We can tarry no longer, for Monsieur de la Gueri- 
 taude is searching busily for us, and he has a long 
 arm he lends money to the king." 
 
 The berline was already moving, and brother 
 Ange, hanging by the door with outstretched hand, 
 pursued us, begging for alms.
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 205 
 
 I sank back on the cushions. 
 
 "Alas! Monsieur," I exclaimed, "you told me 
 that Jael was imprisoned behind triple bolts." 
 
 "My son," replied my good master, "you ought 
 not to have had such confidence in them, for young 
 women make light of jealousy and padlocks. And 
 if the door be shut they jump from the window. 
 You have no idea, Tournebroche, of the cunning of 
 women. The ancient writers have given us many 
 admirable examples, and you will find several in the 
 book of Apuleius, where they are like salt season- 
 ing the narrative of the Golden Ass. But where 
 this cunning is best to be seen is in an Arabian tale 
 which Monsieur Galland has lately made known to 
 Europe, and which I will relate to you: 
 
 "Schariar, Sultan of Tartary, and his brother 
 Schahzenan, were walking one day by the sea, when 
 they suddenly espied a black column rising above 
 the waters and advancing towards the land. They 
 recognised a Djinn of the fiercest kind, in the form 
 of a giant of prodigious height bearing on his head 
 a glass box fastened with four iron locks. This 
 sight inspired them with such fear that they went 
 and hid in the fork of a tree near by. Meanwhile 
 the Djinn stepped out on the beach with the box, 
 which he carried to the foot of the tree where the 
 two princes were hid. Then lying down himself, he 
 was not long in falling asleep. His legs stretched 
 as far as the sea and his breathing shook heaven 
 and earth. While he took his repose in this ter- 
 rifying manner, the lid of the box was lifted and 
 out stepped a lady of majestic height and perfect 
 beauty. She raised her head . . ." 
 
 At this point I interrupted the story to which I 
 was scarcely listening.
 
 206 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 "Ah, Monsieur," I cried, "what do you think 
 Jael and Monsieur d'Anquetil are saying to one an- 
 other now, alone in the coupe?" 
 
 "I do not know," replied my good master, "that 
 is their business, not ours. But let us finish this 
 Arabian tale, which is full of meaning. You 
 thoughtlesly interrupted me, Tournebroche, at the 
 moment when the lady, raising her head, discovered 
 the two princes in the tree where they were hidden. 
 She made signs to them to come to her, and, seeing 
 them hesitate, divided between desire to respond to 
 the appeal of so beautiful a person and fear of 
 approaching so terrible a giant, she said to them in 
 a low but animated voice, 'Come down at once or 
 I will wake the Djinn!' They understood by her 
 imperious and resolute look that it was no mere 
 threat and that the safest and most agreeable way 
 was to come down. They did so, taking all pos- 
 sible precautions not to wake the Djinn. When 
 they got down again, the lady took them by the 
 hand and going a little way off with them she made 
 them clearly understand she was ready to give her- 
 self straightway to both one and the other. They 
 lent themselves with a good grace to this fancy, and 
 as they were men of stout heart their fears did not 
 spoil their pleasure. Having obtained all she 
 wished, and noticing that each wore a ring on his 
 finger, she asked for it. Then returning to the box 
 wherein she dwelt she drew forth a chaplet of rings 
 which she showed to the princes. 
 
 " 'Do you know,' she said to them, 'the meaning 
 of these threaded rings? They are those of all 
 the men to whom I have been as gracious as to 
 you. There are ninety-eight all told, which I keep 
 in remembrance of them. I asked you for yours
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 207 
 
 for the same reason and to make up the hundred. 
 So there,' she said, 'are a hundred lovers whom I 
 have had up to now, despite the vigilance and care 
 of this wicked Djinn who never leaves me. Let 
 him shut me in a glass case and keep me hidden at 
 the bottom of the sea, I deceive him as often as I 
 please." 
 
 "This ingenious apologue," added my good mas- 
 ter, "shows you woman to be as cunning, in the East 
 where she is kept in seclusion as amongst the Eu- 
 ropeans where she is free. If one of them has 
 formed a scheme, neither husband, lover, father, 
 uncle nor guardian can prevent its being carried out. 
 You need not be surprised then, my son, that to 
 betray the vigilance of that old Mordecai was but 
 mere play for Jael who, with her perverse talent, 
 mingles the skill of our courtesans with oriental 
 perfidy. I suspect her to be as greedy for pleasure 
 as she is for gold and silver, and worthy of the 
 race of Aholah and Aholibah. 
 
 "Her beauty bites and stings the sense, and I 
 myself feel it in some degree, though age, sublime 
 meditation, and the wretchedness of a troubled life 
 have much deadened the sentiment of carnal pleas- 
 ure in me. Judging by the pain, that the success 
 of her adventure with Monsieur d'Anquetil causes 
 you, my son, I conclude that you feel the piercing 
 fang of desire far more keenly than do I, and that 
 you are wrung with jealousy. That is why you 
 blame an action, irregular it is true and contrary 
 to vulgar conventions, but indifferent in itself or 
 at least which adds little to the universal ill. You 
 condemn me in your heart for having had a share 
 in it, and you think you uphold the moral view of 
 the question when you are but following the
 
 208 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 prompting of your passions. So do we colour our 
 worst instincts in our own eyes, my son. The 
 morals of mankind have no other origin. Never- 
 theless confess that it would have been a pity to 
 leave such a handsome girl any longer to that old 
 madman. Agree that Monsieur d'Anquetil, young 
 and handsome as he is, is better suited to such a 
 charming person, and be resigned to what you can- 
 not prevent. Such philosophy is difficult, but it 
 would be still more so were it your mistress who 
 had been taken. Then you would feel teeth of 
 iron torturing your flesh and your mind would be 
 filled with odious and over-definite pictures. These 
 considerations, my son, should mitigate your pres- 
 ent suffering. For the matter of that, life is full of 
 pains and suffering. That is what has made us 
 conceive the hope of eternal beatitude." 
 
 Thus spoke my good master, while the elms lin- 
 ing the royal road fled past us on either side. I 
 refrained from telling him that he merely irritated 
 me in wishing to ease my woes and that uncon- 
 sciously he touched an open wound. 
 
 Our first relay was at Juvisy where we arrived in 
 the rain in the early morning. Entering the post- 
 ing inn I found Jael in the chimney-corner where 
 five or six chickens were turning on three spits. 
 She was warming her feet and showing a little bit 
 of silk stocking which greatly disturbed me by the 
 thought of the leg which I pictured to myself, the 
 fine grain of the skin, and its down and all sorts of 
 arresting details. 
 
 Monsieur d'Anquetil leant over the back of her 
 chair, his cheek on his hand. He was calling her 
 his life and his soul, he asked her if she were not 
 hu grv, and when she replied that she was, he
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 209 
 
 went out to give orders. Left alone with the faith- 
 less one, I looked into her eyes, which reflected the 
 flame of the fire. 
 
 "Ah, Jael!" I exclaimed, "I am very unhappy; 
 you have deceived me, and you love me no longer." 
 
 "Who has told you that I love you no longer?" 
 she replied, looking at me with a glance of velvet 
 and of flame. 
 
 "Alas! Mademoiselle, it is sufficiently apparent 
 in your behaviour." 
 
 "What, Jacques do you mean to say you grudge 
 me the outfit of fine Dutch linen and the embossed 
 plate this gentleman is going to give me? I ask 
 you only to be discreet until his promises are real- 
 ised, and you shall see me what I was at the Cross 
 of Les Sablons." 
 
 "Alas, Jael, meanwhile my rival will enjoy your 
 favours." 
 
 "I feel," said she, "that he will not mean much 
 to me, and nothing can efface the memory I have of 
 you. Do not torment yourself about such trifles; 
 they are only of value by your idea of them." 
 
 "Oh," I exclaimed, "the very idea is terrible to 
 me, and I fear I shall not survive your treachery." 
 
 She looked at me in sympathetic raillery and said, 
 smiling: 
 
 "Believe me, my friend, we shall neither of us 
 die of it. Bethink yourself, Jacques, that I must 
 have linen and plate. Be prudent, do not allow the 
 feelings which trouble you to be seen, and I promise 
 to reward you for your discretion later." 
 
 This hope somewhat softened my consuming 
 grief. Mine hostess came and laid the lavender- 
 scented cloth, and put the tin-plates, goblets, and 
 jugs on the table. I was very hungry, and when
 
 210 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 Monsieur d'Anquetil came into the inn with the 
 Abbe and invited us to eat something, I took my 
 place willingly between Jael and my good master. 
 In fear of being pursued we left after hastily de- 
 vouring three omelets and two small chickens. It 
 was agreed upon that in this pressing danger we 
 should not halt until we got to Sens, where we de- 
 cided to spend the night. 
 
 I had horrible thoughts of this night, thinking it 
 was to witness the consummation of Jael's treach- 
 ery. And this only too legitimate apprehension 
 troubled me to such an extent that I lent but a dis- 
 tracted attention to my good master's speech 
 whom the smallest incidents of the journey inspired 
 with admirable reflections. 
 
 My fears were not vain. Alighting at Sens, at 
 the wretched hostelry of the Homme-Arme, scarcely 
 had we eaten our supper when Monsieur d'Anquetil 
 led Jael away to his room, which happened to be 
 next to mine, and I could not taste a moment's re- 
 pose. I rose up in the dawn, and fleeing this hate- 
 ful room I went and sat down mournfully in the 
 carriage-entrance amid the post boys who were 
 drinking white wine and ogling the maid-servants. 
 There I remained for two or three hours meditat- 
 ing on my troubles. The horses were already put 
 to, when Jael appeared under the archway, shiver- 
 ing under her black cloak. I could not bear to look 
 at her. I turned away my eyes. She came up to 
 me and sitting down by me on the door-post said 
 gently that I was not to distress myself, that what 
 I imagined to be so monstrous was really nothing 
 much, that one must be guided by reason, that I was 
 too sensible a man to want a woman to myself 
 alone, and that in that case one took a housekeeper
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 211 
 
 with neither wit nor beauty, and even then there 
 was great risk to be run. 
 
 "I must leave you," she added, "I hear Monsieur 
 d'Anquetil's step on the stairs." 
 
 And she gave me a kiss on the mouth which she 
 lingered over and prolonged in a rapture of fear, 
 for her lover's boots were creaking on the stairs near 
 us, and the pretty gambler was risking the loss of 
 her Dutch linen and embossed silver centre-piece. 
 
 The postilion lowered the step of the coupe, but 
 Monsieur d'Anquetil asked Jael if it would not be 
 pleasanter for all to sit together in the body of the 
 carriage, and it did not escape me that it was the 
 first result of his intimacy with Jael, and that ful- 
 filling of his desires had rendered solitude with her 
 less attractive. My good master had taken care 
 to borrow five or six bottles of white wine from the 
 cellar of the Homme-Arme, which he had arranged 
 under the cushions and which we drank to pass the 
 time on the way. 
 
 At mid-day we arrived at Joigny, which is quite 
 a pretty town. Foreseeing that I should come to 
 the end of my funds before the close of our journey, 
 and not being able to bear the thought of Monsieur 
 d'Anquetil paying my share of the reckoning with- 
 out being reduced thereto by the most extreme need, 
 I resolved to sell a ring and a medal of my mother's 
 that I had by me. I searched the town for a jewel- 
 ler. I found one in the market-place opposite to 
 the church, who had a shop full of chains and 
 crosses at the sign of the Bonne Foi. 
 
 What was my astonishment at finding my good 
 master there, who, standing before the counter, and 
 drawing from a twist of paper five or six small 
 diamonds which I easily recognised as those which
 
 212 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 Monsieur d'Astarac had shown us, asked the jewel- 
 ler what price he thought he could give for the 
 stones! 
 
 The jeweller examined them, then looking at the 
 Abbe over his spectacles said: 
 
 "Monsieur, these stones would be very valuable 
 if they were real. But they are false and there is 
 no need of the touchstone to be assured of it. They 
 are beads of glass, only fit for children's playthings 
 unless one were to stick them in the crown of 
 some village statue of Our Lady, where they would 
 make a fine effect." 
 
 On hearing this Monsieur Coignard took up his 
 diamonds and turned his back on the jeweller. In 
 doing so he perceived me and seemed somewhat 
 confused at the meeting. I finished my business 
 in a very short time, and finding my good master 
 in the doorway, I represented to him the wrong he 
 did himself and his companions in making off with 
 stones which, had they been real, might have been 
 his undoing. 
 
 "My son," he replied, "God in His desire to 
 keep me guiltless has willed that they should be 
 jewels only in appearance and seeming. I confess 
 that I did wrong to go off with them. You see 
 that I am regetting it, and it is a page in the book 
 of my life I should like to tear out, where several 
 leaves, to speak plainly, are not as clean and im- 
 maculate as they should be. I feel keenly how rep- 
 rehensible my behaviour has been in this particular. 
 But man should not be over-much cast down when 
 he falls into fault; now is the moment for me to 
 say to myself, as did a famous divine, 'Consider 
 your great weakness, which you put to the proof 
 only too often on the slightest occasion, and never-
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 213 
 
 theless it is for your good that these things or oth- 
 ers like unto them happen to you. All is not over 
 for you if you find yourself often afflicted and 
 sorely tempted, and that though you succumb to 
 temptation. You are man and not God; you are 
 human flesh and no angel. How can you always 
 remain in the same virtuous state when this fidelity 
 has failed the very angels in Heaven and the first 
 man in Paradise?' Such, Jacques, my son, is the 
 only spiritual discourse and sound self-communion 
 which meet my present state of mind. But is it 
 not time, after this unfortunate step over which 
 we will not linger, to return to our inn, and there in 
 company with the post-boys who are simple folk 
 and easy to deal with, drink one or two bottles of 
 the wine of the place?" 
 
 I sided with this view, and we regained the post- 
 house where we found Monsieur d'Anquetil, who 
 had also returned from the town bringing back 
 some cards. He played piquet with my good mas- 
 ter and when we were on our way again they con- 
 tinued playing in the carriage. This passion for 
 play, by which my rival was carried away, afforded 
 me some freedom with Jael, who talked more will- 
 ingly with me now that she was deserted. I found 
 a bitter pleasure in these talks. Reproaching her 
 with her treachery and her unfaithfulness I eased 
 my sorrow by complaints now low now loud. 
 
 "Alas, Jael," said I, "the memory and the vision 
 of our caresses, which were once my dearest de- 
 light, have become but cruel torture to me, through 
 the thought that to-day you are for another what 
 you once were for me." 
 
 She made answer: 
 
 "A woman is not the same with every one."
 
 2i 4 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 And when I lengthily prolonged my wailings 
 and reproaches, she said: 
 
 "I understand that I have caused you sorrow. 
 But that is no reason why you should overwhelm 
 me a hundred times a day with your useless com- 
 plaining." 
 
 When Monsieur d'Anquetil lost, his temper be- 
 came troublesome. He molested Jael at every op- 
 portunity, who, not being patient, threatened to 
 write to her uncle Mosaide to come and fetch her 
 away. These quarrels at first afforded me some 
 glimmer of hope and rejoicing, but after they had 
 been renewed several times, I saw them arise with 
 anxiety, having recognised the fact that they were 
 followed by impetuous reconciliations which pro- 
 claimed themselves to my ears in sudden kisses, 
 whisperings and lustful sighs. Monsieur d'Anque- 
 til could scarcely endure me. But, on the other 
 hand, he had a lively affection for my good master, 
 who deserved it by his equable and smiling temper 
 and the incomparable elegance of his wit. They 
 played and drank together in a sympathy which 
 grew with every day. With knees approached to 
 support the table on which they threw down the 
 cards, they laughed, joked, and teased one another, 
 and though it sometimes happened that they threw 
 the cards at each other's heads, exchanging abuse 
 that would have made blush the dockmen of the 
 Port St. Nicholas or the boatmen of the Mall, and 
 though Monsieur d'Anquetil swore before God, 
 the Virgin and all the saints that he had never in 
 his life seen a worse scoundrel than Abbe Coignard 
 even at the end of a rope, one felt that he dearly 
 loved my good master, and it was amusing to hear 
 him a moment after say laughingly:
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 215 
 
 "L'Abbe you shall be my chaplain and my 
 partner at piquet. You must also hunt with us. 
 We must search the whole county of Perche for 
 a horse strong enough to carry you, and you shall 
 have a hunting-outfit such as I have seen on the 
 bishop of Uzes. It is high time anyway that you 
 had some new clothes, for, without complaining, 
 Monsieur 1'Abbe, your breeches really scarcely 
 cover you at the back." 
 
 Jael also yielded to the irresistible attraction 
 which inclined souls to my good master. She re- 
 solved to repair as well as possible the disorder of 
 his toilet. She pulled one of her dresses to pieces 
 and made him a present of a lace handkerchief to 
 make some bands. My good master received these 
 small gifts with graceful dignity. I had occasion 
 to remark it several times: he carried himself gal- 
 lantly towards women. He showed an interest in 
 them which never became indiscreet, praised them 
 with the insight of a connoisseur, gave them coun- 
 sel gained in his long experience, and shielded them 
 with the infinite indulgence of a heart ready to par- 
 don all weaknesses, and yet neglected no occasion 
 to make them listen to great and useful truths. 
 
 Reaching Montbard on the fourth day we 
 stopped on a height whence we could perceive the 
 whole town, lying in a small compass as if it had 
 been painted on canvas by some clever workman 
 careful to put in all the details. 
 
 "Look upon these walls, these towers, belfries 
 and roofs which rise above the verdure," said my 
 good master. "They constitute a town, and with- 
 out seeking to know its name or its history, it befits 
 us to reflect upon it as one of the most worthy sub- 
 jects of meditation that can be offered us on the
 
 216 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 face of the globe. Indeed, a town of any kind af- 
 fords the mind subject for speculation. The post- 
 boys tell us this is Montbard. The place is un- 
 known to me. Nevertheless, I do not fear to af- 
 firm by analogy that the people who dwell there, 
 like ourselves, are egoistic, cowardly, treacherous, 
 greedy and debauched. Otherwise they would not 
 be men, nor descended from Adam, in whom, being 
 at once miserable and yet worthy of veneration, all 
 our instincts even down to the very lowest have 
 their august source. The only point on which one 
 might hesitate is to know whether those people 
 down there are more disposed to the love of food 
 than to reproduction of their kind. Yet no doubt 
 is permissable; a philosopher will form the sane 
 opinion that hunger, for these unfortunate beings, 
 is a more pressing goad than love. In my salad 
 days I thought the human animal was inclined 
 above all things to the union of the sexes. But it 
 was merely a snare; and it is plain that men are 
 more interested in preserving life than in giving 
 it. Hunger is the axis of humanity: but as it 
 is idle to dispute the matter here I will say, if you 
 wish, that mortal life has two poles, hunger and 
 love. And now is the moment to lend me your 
 ears and your hearts! These hideous creatures, 
 who are bent on furiously devouring or embracing 
 one another, live together under laws which straitly 
 forbid them the satisfying of this double and deep- 
 seated concupiscence. These ingenuous animals, 
 having become citizens, willingly impose on them- 
 selves privations of all kinds, respect the property 
 of others, which is a prodigious thing considering 
 their greedy nature, and observe a modesty, a com- 
 mon but enormous hypocrisy, consisting in rarely
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 217 
 
 speaking of what they think of continually. For 
 own, in all good faith, Messieurs, when we see a 
 woman it is not the beauty of her soul and the quali- 
 ties of her mind on which our thoughts fix them- 
 selves, and in talk with her it is her natural traits 
 we have principally in view. And the charming 
 creature knows it so well, that dressed by a clever 
 milliner she has taken care only to veil her attrac- 
 tions by heightening them with various artifices. 
 And Mademoiselle Jael, who is no savage, would 
 be quite distressed if art in her had the upper hand 
 over nature to such a point that one could not see 
 the fulness of her bosom and the roundness of her 
 form. So, in whatever way we regard men since 
 the fall of Adam we see them hungry and inconti- 
 nent. Whence comes it then that gathered to- 
 gether in towns they impose privations of all sorts 
 on themselves, and submit themselves to a regimen 
 completely opposed to their corrupt nature. It 
 has been said that they found it to their advantage, 
 and that they felt that this constraint was the price 
 of their safety. But that is to suppose them un- 
 reasonable, and, what is more, using a wrong 
 reasoning, for it is ridiculous to save one's life at 
 the cost of what constitutes its excuse and its 
 value. It has also been said that fear held them 
 obedient, and it is true that imprisonment, the gal- 
 lows and the wheel, all successfully insure obedience 
 to laws. But certain it is that prejudice has gone 
 hand in hand with the laws, and one cannot well 
 see how constraint has been so universally estab- 
 lished. One defies laws as the necessary relations 
 of things, but we have just seen that these rela- 
 tions, far from being necessary, are in flat contra- 
 diction to nature. Hence, Messieurs, I seek the
 
 218 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 source and origin of laws not in mankind but be- 
 yond them, and I believe that being strange to man- 
 kind they come from God, Who has shaped with 
 His mysterious Hands not only the earth and the 
 water, plants and animals, but even nations and so- 
 cieties. I believe that laws emanate straight from 
 Him, from His first decalogue and that they are 
 inhuman because they are divine. You quite under- 
 stand that I am considering codes in their underly- 
 ing principles and essence, without wishing to enter 
 into their laughable diversity and pitiable complica- 
 tions. The details of custom and prescription 
 both written and spoken, are man's part in it, and 
 this part may be disdained. But do not let us fear 
 to acknowledge it. The City is a divine institution. 
 From which it results that every government should 
 be a theocracy. A priest noted for the share he 
 took in the Declaration of 1682, Monsieur Bossuet, 
 was not mistaken in wanting to lay down political 
 rules after the maxims of Holy Scripture, and if 
 he failed miserably, one can only blame the weak- 
 ness of his genius which dully clung to examples 
 drawn from the book of Judges and Kings, failing 
 to see that God, when He works in this world, has 
 regard to time and space and knows how to differen- 
 tiate between the French and the Israelites. The 
 City, re-established under this, the only true and 
 lawful authority, would not be the city of Joshua, 
 Saul, nor David, it would more likely be the city 
 of the Gospel, the city of the poor, where the work- 
 man and the prostitute will not be put to shame by 
 the Pharisee. Oh, Messieurs, how well it would 
 be to draw from the Scriptures a more beau- 
 tiful and sacred policy than that which was pain- 
 fully extracted by Monsieur Bossuet, so strict and
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 219 
 
 harsh in style. What a City, more harmonious 
 than that which Orpheus raised to the sounds of 
 his lyre, shall rise on the teachings of Jesus Christ, 
 the day when His priests, no longer sold to emper- 
 ors and kings, shall show themselves as the true 
 princes of the people!" 
 
 While standing round my good master, hearing 
 him discourse in this wise, we were surrounded 
 without our noticing by a troop of beggars, who, 
 limping, shivering, dribbling, waving stumps, shak- 
 ing goitres, and exposing wounds running with pois- 
 onous discharge, beset us with their importunate 
 benedictions. They flung themselves greedily on 
 some coins which Monsieur d'Anquetil threw to 
 them and rolled together in the dust. 
 
 "It makes me ill to look at those unfortunate be- 
 ings," sighed Jael. 
 
 "Your pity sits on you like an ornament, Made- 
 moiselle," said Monsieur Coignard; "these sighs 
 lend a grace to your bosom by swelling it with a 
 breath we should each of us like to inhale from 
 your lips. But allow me to tell you that this ten- 
 derness, which is not the less touching for being in- 
 terested, moves your bowels to compassion by the 
 comparison of these poor wretches with yourself, 
 and by the instinctive feeling that your young body 
 touches, so to speak, these hideously ulcerated and 
 mutilated forms, as it is in very truth allied and 
 attached to them in so far as we are all members 
 of Our Lord Jesus Christ, whence it follows that 
 you cannot face the corruption on the flesh of these 
 wretches without seeing it at the same time as a 
 presage to your own flesh. And these wretched 
 beings have risen up before you like prophets pro- 
 claiming that the lot of the children of Adam in
 
 220 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 this world is sickness and death. That is why you 
 sighed, Mademoiselle. 
 
 "As a matter of fact there is no reason to con- 
 clude that these beggars, eaten up with ulcers and 
 vermin, are more unhappy than kings and queens. 
 We must not even say that they are poorer, if, as 
 it appears, the Hard that woman with the goitre 
 has picked up in the dust, dribbling with joy, seems 
 to her more precious than is a collar of pearls to 
 the mistress of a Prince-Bishop of Cologne or Salz- 
 burg. Properly, to understand our spiritual and 
 veritable interests we ought to envy the existence 
 of that cripple, who creeps towards you on his 
 hands, in preference to that of the King of France 
 or the Emperor. Their equal before God, he per- 
 chance possesses that peace of the heart which they 
 know not, and the inestimable treasure of inno- 
 cence. But draw your skirts round you, Made- 
 moiselle, for fear of the vermin with which I see 
 he is covered." 
 
 Thus talked my good master and we never tired 
 of listening to him. 
 
 At about three leagues from Montbard, one of 
 the traces having broken and the post-boys lacking 
 the cord wherewith to mend it, as that part of the 
 world was far from all habitation, we remained 
 there in a distressed condition. My good master 
 and Monsieur d'Anquetil killed the boredom of 
 this enforced halt by playing cards with that sym- 
 pathy in their quarrels now become a habit with 
 them. While the young gentleman showed his as- 
 tonishment that his partner returned the king more 
 often than consorted with the law of probabilities, 
 Jael drew me aside and somewhat agitatedly asked 
 me if I did not see a carriage stopping behind us
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 221 
 
 at a winding in the road. Looking at the spot 
 she indicated I saw indeed an antiquated caleche of 
 a ridiculous and odd shape. 
 
 "That carriage," added Jael, "stopped when we 
 did. So it must have been following us. I wish 
 I could make out the faces of those who are travel- 
 ling in that concern. I am anxious about it. Is 
 it not covered with a tall narrow hood? It is like 
 the carriage my uncle took me in to Paris when I 
 was quite small, after he had killed the Portuguese. 
 As far as I know it was left in a stable at the cha- 
 teau of Sablons. This one exactely recalls it, and a 
 horrible souvenir it is, for I last saw my uncle in it 
 foaming with rage. You cannot imagine, Jacques, 
 how violent he is. I experienced his rage the very 
 day of my departure. He shut me in my room, 
 vomiting frightful abuse on Monsieur 1'Abbe Coig- 
 nard. I shudder when I think of the state he must 
 have been in when he found my room empty, and 
 my sheets still fastened to the window whence I es- 
 caped to meet and fly with you." 
 
 "You mean to say with Monsieur d'Anquetil, 
 Jael." 
 
 "How punctilious you are! Did we not all 
 leave together? But that caleche makes me anx- 
 ious, it is so like my uncle's." 
 
 "Rest assured, Jael, that it is some worthy Bur- 
 gundian's carriage who is going about his business 
 with no thought of us." 
 
 "You know nothing about it," said Jael; "I am 
 afraid." 
 
 "You surely cannot be afraid that your uncle, 
 decrepit as he has become, will scour the roads in 
 pursuit of you, Mademoiselle. He is occupied 
 with the caballa and his Hebrew speculations."
 
 222 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 "You do not know him," she made reply with 
 a sigh. "He is entirely taken up with me. He 
 loves me so much that he execrates the rest of the 
 world. He loves me in a way. . . ." 
 
 "In what way?" 
 
 "In all ways. ... In short he loves me." 
 
 "Jael, I shudder to hear you. Just Heaven! 
 This Mosai'de loves you without that disinterested- 
 ness which is so admirable in an old man, and so 
 befitting an uncle ! Tell me everything, Jael. . . ." 
 
 "Oh, you can put it into words better than I, 
 Jacques." 
 
 "I am stupefied. At his age is it possible?" 
 
 "My friend, you have a white skin and a soul to 
 match it. Everything astonishes you. 'Tis this 
 candour that is your charm. You are deceived 
 with very little trouble. You believe that Mosai'de is 
 a hundred and thirty years old when he is not much 
 more than sixty that he lived in the great pyra- 
 mid, when in reality he was a banker at Lisbon. 
 And had I chosen I could have passed in your eyes 
 for a Salamander." 
 
 "What, Jael, are you speaking the truth? Your 
 uncle. . . ." 
 
 "Yes and it is the secret of his jealousy. He 
 believes Abbe Coignard to be his rival. He hated 
 him instinctively at first sight. But it is quite an- 
 other matter now when, having overhead several 
 words of the interview th-. good Abbe had with me 
 among the thorn-bushes, he may hate him as the 
 cause of my flight and elopement. For, indeed, I 
 was carried off, my friend, and that should put a 
 certain value on me in your eyes. Oh! I was very 
 ungrateful to leave such a good uncle. But I 
 could not endure the slavery in which he kept me
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 223 
 
 any longer. And then I had an ardent desire to 
 grow rich; it is very natural, is it not, to want nice 
 things when one is young and pretty? We have 
 but one life and that a short one. I have been 
 taught no beautiful lies about the immortality of 
 the soul." 
 
 "Alas! Jael," I exclaimed in an ardour of love 
 which lent me hardihood, "I lacked nothing when 
 I was near you at Sablons; what did you lack to 
 be happy?" 
 
 She signed to me that Monsieur d'Anquetil was 
 observing us. The trace was mended and the ber- 
 line rolled on between the vine-covered slopes. 
 
 We stopped at Nuits to sup and sleep the night. 
 My good master drank half a dozen bottles of 
 the native wine which marvellously heightened his 
 eloquence. Monsieur d'Anquetil made a good sec- 
 ond, glass in hand, but as to coping with him in con- 
 versation the gentleman was quite incapable of 
 that. 
 
 The cheer was good, the lodging was bad. 
 Monsieur 1'Abbe Coignard slept in the low room 
 under the stairs, on a feather-bed which he shared 
 with the inn-keeper and his wife and where they all 
 thought to suffocate. 
 
 Monsieur d'Anquetil took the upper room with 
 Jael, where the bacon and onions hung from the 
 rafters. I climbed up to the loft by a ladder and 
 lay down on the straw. My first deep sleep over, 
 the rays of the moon, whose light came through the 
 cracks in the roof, slipped under my eyelids and 
 opened them in time for me to see Jael in her night- 
 cap coming through the trap-door. At the cry I 
 gave she put her finger on her lips. 
 
 "Hush!" she said, "Maurice is drunk as a porter
 
 224 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 or a lord. He sleeps the sleep of Noah down be- 
 low." 
 
 "Maurice, who is that?" I asked, rubbing my 
 eyes. 
 
 "Anquetil. Who else should it be?' 
 
 "No one. But / did not know that he was called 
 Maurice." 
 
 "I have not known it long myself. But that is 
 no matter." 
 
 "You are right, Jael. That is of no conse- 
 quence." 
 
 She was in her chemise, and the moonlight lay 
 like milk on her naked shoulders. She glided to 
 my side, calling me the tenderest and again the 
 coarsest of names, which slid from her lips in soft 
 murmurings. Then she spoke no more and began 
 to give me kisses as only she knew how and in com- 
 parison with which the caresses of other women 
 were insipid. 
 
 The restraint and the silence augmented the high 
 tension of my nerves. Surprise, the pleasure of 
 revenge, and maybe, a perverse jealousy, all added 
 flame to my desires. The elasticity of her body 
 and the supple strength of her movements asked, 
 promised, and deserved the most ardent of caresses. 
 We knew those deeps of pleasure that border upon 
 pain. 
 
 On going down to the courtyard of the hostelry 
 next morning, I found Monsieur d'Anquetil there, 
 who seemed less odious to me now that I had de- 
 ceived him. 
 
 On his side he seemed more drawn to me than he 
 had been since the beginning of our journey. He 
 spoke to me with familiarity, sympathy, and trust- 
 fulness, he reproached me with showing Jael so
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 225 
 
 little consideration and gallantry, and with not pay- 
 ing her those attentions which a good man should 
 pay to every woman. 
 
 "She complains," he said, "of your incivility. 
 Take note of it, my dear Tournebroche ; I should 
 be sorry if there were any unpleasantness between 
 her and you. She is a pretty girl and exceedingly 
 fond of me." 
 
 The berline had been on its way an hour when 
 Jael, having put her head out of the window, said: 
 
 "The caleche has turned up again. I would 
 much like to see the faces of the two men in it. 
 But I cannot succeed." 
 
 I replied that such a long way off, and in the 
 early morning mist too, we could distinguish 
 nothing. 
 
 She made reply that her sight was so keen, that 
 she could distinguish them well notwithstanding the 
 mist and the distance, were they really faces. 
 
 "But," added she, "they are not faces." 
 
 "What do you think they are then?" I asked 
 with a burst of laughter. 
 
 In her turn she asked me what absurd idea had 
 entered my mind that I shoulj laugh in such a 
 stupid fashion, and said: 
 
 "They are not faces, they are masks. Those 
 two men are following us and they are masked." 
 
 I warned Monsieur d'Anquetil that it appeared 
 we were being pursued by a wretched caleche. But 
 he begged me to leave him in peace. 
 
 "If a hundred thousand devils were at our heels 
 I should not trouble myself," he exclaimed, "hav- 
 ing plenty to do in keeping a watch on this fat 
 hang-dog rascal of an Abbe, who forces the cards 
 in an underhand way and steals all my money. I
 
 226 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 should even not be astonished that in thrusting that 
 wretched caleche on me in the middle of my game, 
 you were in league with this old cheat. Can a car- 
 riage not travel on the road without causing you 
 emotion?" 
 
 Jael whispered low in my ear: 
 
 "Jacques, I foresee that caleche will bring us 
 some evil. I have a presentiment and my presenti- 
 ments are never wrong." 
 
 "Do you want to make me believe you have the 
 gift of prophecy?" 
 
 She gravely answered: "Indeed I have." 
 
 "What, you a prophetess!" I exclaimed smiling. 
 "How strange I" 
 
 "You laugh at me," she said, "and you doubt of 
 it because you have never seen a prophetess so close 
 before. How would you have her look?" 
 
 "I thought they had to be virgins." 
 
 "That is not at all necessary," she replied with, 
 assurance. 
 
 The rival caleche was lost to sight behind a 
 turning in the road. But Jael's anxiety had affected 
 Monsieur d'Anquetil without his avowing it and he 
 gave orders to the post-boys to increase their speed, 
 promising to pay them good money. 
 
 With an excess of solicitude he passed each of 
 them one of the bottles that the Abbe had kept in 
 reserve at the back of the carriage. 
 
 The postilions communicated to their horses the 
 ardour they drew from the wine. 
 
 "You may make your mind easy, Jael," said he, 
 "at the rate we are going that ancient caleche 
 drawn by the horses of the Apocalypse will not 
 catch us up." 
 
 "We go like a cat on hot bricks," said the Abbe.
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 227 
 
 "If only it lasts!" said Jael. ^ 
 
 On our right we saw the vine rows planted at 
 intervals fly by on the slopes. On the left the 
 Saone flowed sluggishly. We passed the bridge of 
 Tournus like a whirlwind. On the other side of 
 the river rose the town on a hill crowned with abbey 
 walls strong as a fortress. 
 
 "That," said the Abbe, "is one of the innumer- 
 able Benedictine abbeys which are sewn like jewels 
 on the robe of ecclesiastical Gaul. Had it pleased 
 God that my destiny had accorded with my charac- 
 ter, my life would have slipped by, obscure, easy, 
 and joyful in one of those houses. There is no 
 order for doctrine and way of life I hold equal to 
 the Benedictine. They possess admirable libraries. 
 Happy is he who wears their habit and follows 
 their holy rule ! Either from the discomfort I feel 
 at present in being so rudely shaken in this carriage 
 which will not fail to upset shortly in one of the 
 many ruts in which this road is so deeply worn, or 
 more likely as the result of my time of life, which 
 inclines to retirement and serious thought, I long 
 more ardently than ever to seat myself at a table 
 in some old library, where numerous and choice 
 books are gathered together in silence. I prefer 
 their conversation to that of man, and my dearest 
 wish is to await, while busied with intellectual work, 
 the hour when God will withdraw me from this 
 world. I would write histories, preferably that of 
 the Romans, in the decline of the Republic. For it 
 is full of instruction and great deeds. I would divide 
 my zeal between Cicero, St. Johrt Chrysostom and 
 Boethius; my life passed thus modestly and fruit- 
 fully would be like unto the garden of the old man of 
 Tarentum.
 
 228 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 "I have tried various ways of living, and I judge 
 that the best of all is, while giving myself up to 
 study, to look on in peace at the changes in man- 
 kind, and to prolong by the contemplation of cen- 
 turies and empires the briefness of our days. But 
 sequence and continuity are necessary. They have 
 been more wanting than anything in my life. If, 
 as I hope to do, I succeed in recovering from this 
 present false step I shall endeavour to find an 
 honourable and safe shelter in some learned abbey 
 where letters flourish and are in honour. I already 
 see myself there tasting the peaceful renown of 
 knowledge. Could I but count on this good turn 
 from the helpful Sylphs of whom that old madman 
 d'Astarac speaks and who appear, it is said, when 
 they are invoked by the cabalistic name of 
 Agla. . . r 
 
 At the moment my good master pronounced this 
 word a sudden shock overwhelmed us all four under 
 a hail of glass, in such confusion that I found my- 
 self suddenly blinded and suffocated beneath Jael's 
 skirts, while Monsieur Coignard, in a stifled voice, 
 denounced Monsieur d'Anquetil's sword for having 
 broken all the teeth he had left, and above my head 
 Jael gave vent to cries which rent all the valleys 
 of Burgundy. Meanwhile Monsieur d'Anquetil 
 was promising the postilions to have them all hung. 
 By the time I succeeded in freeing myself he had 
 already jumped through a broken window; we fol- 
 lowed him by the same way my good master and 
 I, and then we all three drew Jael from the over- 
 turned carriage. She was unhurt and her first care 
 was to re-adjust her hair. 
 
 "Thank Heaven," said my good master, "I have 
 escaped with the loss of a tooth, and one neither
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 229 
 
 perfect nor white at that. Time, by its attack, had 
 prepared it for its fall." 
 
 Monsieur d'Anquetil, with legs wide apart and 
 hands on his hips, was examining the over-turned 
 carriage. 
 
 "The rogues have made it in a pretty state," said 
 he. "If we get the horses up, it will fall in the 
 gutter. L'Abbe, it is good for nothing but to play 
 spellicans with." 
 
 The horses, fallen one over another, kicked each 
 other with their hoofs. In a confused heap of 
 cruppers, manes, flanks and steaming bellies, one 
 of the postilions was buried, boots in air. The 
 other was spitting blood in the ditch where he had 
 been flung. And Monsieur d'Anquetil shouted at 
 them: 
 
 "Fools! I do not know what keeps me from 
 running my sword through your bodies!" 
 
 "Monsieur," said the Abbe, "would it not first 
 be better to drag that poor man from amidst the 
 horses where he is buried?" 
 
 We all set to work, and when the horses were 
 unharnessed and got up, we knew the extent of the 
 damage. 
 
 There was a spring smashed, a wheel broken and 
 one horse lamed. "Fetch a wheelwright," said 
 Monseiur d'Anquetil to the postilions, "and let all 
 be made ready within an hour." 
 
 "There is no wheelwright here," said the postil- 
 ions. 
 
 "A farrier." 
 
 "There is no farrier." 
 
 "A saddler." 
 
 "There is no saddler." 
 
 We looked round us. In the setting sun the
 
 230 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 vine-covered slopes stretched in long peaceful lines 
 to the horizon. On the height smoke rose from a 
 roof near by a belfry. On the other side the 
 Saone, veiled in light mist, was gently effacing the 
 ripple made by a boat which had just passed. The 
 shadows of the poplars were lengthening on the 
 bank. The sharp cry of a bird pierced the vast 
 silence. 
 
 "Where are we?" asked Monsieur d'Anquetil. 
 
 "Two good leagues from Tournus," replied the 
 postilion who had fallen in the ditch, spitting blood 
 as he did so, "and at least four from Macon." 
 
 And raising his arm towards the roof smoking 
 on the hill: 
 
 "That village up there must be Vallars. Its re- 
 sources are small." 
 
 "God's thunder split you!" said Monsieur d'An- 
 quetil. 
 
 While the horses, huddled together, nibbled at 
 each other's necks, we drew near the carriage lying 
 sorrily on its side. The little postilion, who had 
 been drawn from under the horses said : 
 
 "As for the spring, that could be remedied by a 
 strong piece of wood fitted to the strap. The car- 
 riage would only be slightly more shaky. But there 
 is the broken wheel! And the worst of it is my 
 hat is underneath it." 
 
 "Damn your hat," said Monsieur d'Anquetil. 
 
 "Your Lordship does not perhaps know it was 
 quite new," said the little postilion. 
 
 "And the broken windows!" sighed Jael sitting 
 on her portmanteau on the road-side. 
 
 "If it were only the windows," said my good 
 master, "we could fill their places by lowering the 
 blinds, but the bottles must be in exactly the same
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 231 
 
 state as the windows. That is what I must make 
 sure of as soon as the berline is right side up. I am 
 equally troubled about my Boethius which I left 
 under the cushions with several other good works." 
 
 "They matter nothing," said Monsieur d'Anque- 
 til, "I have got the cards in my waistcoat pocket. 
 But are we not going to sup?" 
 
 "I was thinking of that," said the Abbe. "It is 
 not in vain that God has given man for his use, the 
 animals which people the earth, sky and water. I 
 am an excellent angler, the careful, watch for fish 
 particularly suits my meditative spirit, and the 
 Orne has seen me holding the insidious line and 
 pondering the eternal verities. Have no fear 
 about your supper. If Mademoiselle Jael will 
 kindly give me one of the pins which support her 
 attire I will soon make a hook of it, with which to 
 fish in the river, and I flatter myself that I shall 
 bring you two or three small carp before night-fall, 
 which we will grill over a fire of brushwood." 
 
 "I clearly perceive," said Jael, "that we are re- 
 duced to a savage state. But I cannot give you a 
 pin, 1'Abbe, unless you give me something in ex- 
 change, otherwise our friendship runs the risk of 
 being broken. And I do not want that to occur." 
 
 "Then I will make an advantageous bargain," 
 said my good master. "I will pay for your pin 
 with a kiss, Mademoiselle." 
 
 Thereupon, taking the pin, he put his lips to 
 Jael's cheek in an indescribably charming, graceful 
 and becoming manner. 
 
 After wasting a good deal of time we decided on 
 the most sensible method. The tall postilion, who 
 spat blood no longer, was sent to Tournus with 
 a horse to bring back a wheelwright, while his fel-
 
 232 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 low lighted a fire in a sheltered spot, for the air was 
 becoming fresh and the wind was rising. 
 
 We perceived on the road a hundred paces be- 
 yond the scene of our downfall, a hill of soft stone 
 whose base was hollowed in places. In one of 
 these hollows we decided to await the return of the 
 postilion sent as a messenger to Tournus, warming 
 ourselves meanwhile. The second postilion tied 
 the three remaining horses, one of which was 
 lamed, to the trunk of a tree, near by our cave. 
 The Abbe, who had succeeded in making a line with 
 some branches of willow, a string, a cork, and a 
 pin, went off to angle, inclined thereto as much by 
 his philosophic and meditative turn as by the design 
 of bringing us some fish. Monsieur d'Anquetil re- 
 maining with Jael and me in the grotto proposed a 
 game of ombre, which three can play at, and which, 
 being Spanish, he said was suitable to such adventur- 
 ous people as we were for the time being. And in 
 truth, in this stone-pit, at night-fall, on a deserted 
 road, our little party would not have seemed un- 
 worthy to figure in one of those encounters of Don 
 Quigeot or Don Quichotte which amuse the serv- 
 ants. So we played at ombre. It is a game 
 which needs to be taken seriously. I made many 
 mistakes and my impatient partner began to be an- 
 gry, when the fine and smiling countenance of my 
 good master appeared before us in the fire-light. 
 Untying his handkerchief Monsieur 1'Abbe Coig- 
 nard took out four or five small fish, which he cut 
 open with his knife ornamented with the image of 
 the late king as a Roman emperor on a triumphant 
 column, and which he gutted as easily as if he had 
 never lived anywhere but among the fish-wives in 
 the market, so much did he excel in the smallest un-
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 233 
 
 dertakings as in the greater. While he arranged 
 this small fry over the ashes he said: 
 
 "I will confide to you that following the river on 
 its downward course, looking for a favourable bank 
 whence to fish, I perceived the Apocalyptic caleche 
 which strikes terror into Mademoiselle Jael. It 
 had stopped some way off behind our berline. You 
 must have seen it pass by here while I was fishing 
 in the river, and it must have brought consolation 
 to the mind of Mademoiselle here." 
 
 "We did not see it," said Jael. 
 
 "Then it must have started off again, when night 
 had already fallen; and at least you must have 
 heard it." 
 
 "We have not heard it," said Jael. 
 
 "Then the night must be both blind and deaf. 
 For it is scarcely believable that that caleche with 
 neither a broken wheel nor a lame horse, should 
 have stayed on the road. What could it do there?" 
 
 "Yes, what could it do there?" said Jael. 
 
 "This supper," said my good master, "by its 
 simplicity, recalls those repasts in the Bible, where 
 the pious traveller shares fish from the Tigris with 
 an angel on the river bank. But we need bread, 
 salt and wine. I shall try to get the provisions out 
 of the berline where they are shut up, and see if by 
 chance a bottle has not been preserved intact. For 
 there are times when glass will not break under a 
 blow which would shatter steel. Tournebroche, my 
 son, please give me your flint and steel; and you, 
 Mademoiselle, do not fail to turn the fish. I shall 
 return immediately." 
 
 He went off, his somewhat heavy step died away 
 slowly on the road, and soon we heard nothing 
 more.
 
 234 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 "The night," said Monsieur d'Anquetil, "re- 
 minds me of the one which preceded the battle of 
 Parma. For you are not ignorant of the fact that 
 I served under Villars and fought in the war of 
 succession. I was among the scouts. We saw 
 nothing. That is one of the artifices of war. 
 They send men to reconnoitre the enemy, who come 
 back without having seen or heard anything. But 
 they make reports out of it after the battle, and 
 that is where the tacticians triumph. Well, then, 
 at nine o'clock in the evening I was sent out as a 
 scout with twelve troopers. . . ." 
 
 And he told us of the war of succession, and of 
 his love-passages in Italy; his recital lasted fully a 
 quarter of an hour, after which he exclaimed: 
 
 "That rascal of an Abbe does not come back. I 
 wager he is drinking all the wine left in the slings 
 over there." 
 
 Thinking then that my good master might be 
 somewhat hampered I got up to go to his aid. The 
 night was moonless, and while the sky glittered with 
 stars the earth remained in such darkness that my 
 eyes, dazzled by the light of the fire, could not 
 penetrate it. Having gone but fifty steps on the 
 road, which was pale in the darkness, I heard in 
 front of me a terrible cry, which did not seem to 
 issue from a human breast, a cry different from all 
 the cries I had heard before, and which froze me 
 with horror. I ran in the direction whence came 
 the shriek of mortal distress. But the darkness 
 and my fear made my steps tremble. Arrived at 
 length at the spot where the carriage lay shapeless 
 and magnified by the dark, I found my good master 
 seated by the edge of the ditch, doubled in two.
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 235 
 
 I could not distinguish his face. I asked him 
 tremblingly : 
 
 "What is the matter with you? Why did you 
 cry out?" 
 
 "Yes why did I cry out?" said he in a changed 
 voice, a voice new to me. "I did not know that 
 I cried out. Tournebroche, have you not seen a 
 man? He knocked against me rather roughly in 
 the dark. He gave me a blow with his fist." 
 
 "Come, my good master, raise yourself," I said. 
 
 Having raised himself up, he fell back heavily 
 to earth. 
 
 I struggled to lift him up, and my hands were 
 wet as I touched his breast. 
 
 "You are bleeding!" 
 
 "I am bleeding? I am a dead man. He has 
 murdered me. I thought at first it was but a very 
 rough blow. But it is a wound of which I feel I 
 shall never recover." 
 
 "Who has struck you, my good master?" 
 
 "It was the Jew. I did not see him, but I know 
 it was he. How do I know it was he when I never 
 saw him? Yes, how comes that? What strange 
 happenings! It is unbelievable, is it not, Tourne- 
 broche? I have the taste of death in my mouth 
 which cannot be defined. ... It had to be, my 
 God! But why here rather than there? There 
 lies the mystery! Adjutorium nostrum in nomine 
 Domini. . . . Domine, exaudi orationem meam. . . ." 
 
 He prayed for some time in a low voice, and 
 then he said: 
 
 "Tournebroche, my son, take the two bottles 
 which I drew from out the slings and put opposite. 
 I can do no more. Tournebroche, where do you
 
 236 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 think the wound is? It is in the back I suffer the 
 most, and it seems to me that my life is ebbing 
 from my limbs. My mind is going." 
 
 Murmuring these words he quietly fainted away 
 in my arms. I tried to lift him up, but I had but 
 the strength to lay him down on the road. His 
 shirt open, I found the wound; it was in the chest, 
 small and bleeding but little. I tore up my ruffles 
 and applied the strips to the wound. I called out; 
 I cried for help. Soon I thought I heard them 
 coming to my assistance from the direction of 
 Tournus, and I recognised Monsieur d'Astarac. 
 So unexpected was this meeting I was not even sur- 
 prised at it, overwhelmed as I was by the grief of 
 thus holding the best of masters dying in my arms. 
 
 "What means this, my son?" demanded the al- 
 chemist. 
 
 "Come to my help, Monsieur," I replied, "1'Abbe 
 Coignard is dying. Mosai'de has murdered him." 
 
 "It is true," said Monsieur d'Astarac, "that Mo- 
 sai'de came here in an old caleche in pursuit of his 
 niece, and I accompanied him to exhort you, my 
 son, to resume your work in my house. Since yes- 
 terday we have pressed close upon your berline, 
 that we saw a short time ago go to pieces in a ditch. 
 At that moment Mosai'de got out of the carriage, 
 and, whether he went for a walk or whether, what 
 is more likely still, he made himself invisible, as he 
 has the power to do, I have not seen him since. It 
 is possible he has already shown himself to his niece 
 to curse her; for such was his design. But he has 
 not murdered Abbe Coignard. It is the Elves, my 
 son, who have killed your master, to punish him for 
 having revealed their secrets. Nothing is more 
 certain."
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 237 
 
 "Ah! Monsieur," I exclaimed, "what matters 
 whether it be the Jew or the Elves; we must suc- 
 cour him." 
 
 "My son, on the contrary, it matters very much," 
 replied Monsieur d'Astarac; "for if he had been 
 struck by a human hand it would be very easy for 
 me to heal him by a magical operation; but whereas 
 he has drawn on himself the enmity of the Elves he 
 cannot escape their infallible vengeance." 
 
 As he spoke these last words, Monsieur d'Anque- 
 til and Jael, drawn by my cries, came up with the 
 postilion bearing a lantern. 
 
 "What!" said Jael, "is Monsieur Coignard ill?" 
 
 And kneeling down by my good master's side, 
 she raised his head and made him inhale her salts. 
 
 "Mademoiselle," said I, "you are the cause of 
 his undoing. His death is the vengeance for your 
 elopement. It is MosaTde who has killed him." 
 
 She lifted her face over my good master, pale 
 with horror and glistening with tears. 
 
 "Do you suppose, then, it is so easy to be a pretty 
 girl without causing unhappiness?" she asked. 
 
 "Alas!" I replied, "what you say is only too true. 
 But we have lost the best of men." 
 
 At this moment Monsieur 1'Abbe Coignard gave 
 a deep sigh, turned up the whites of his eyes, asked 
 for his copy of Boethius, and fell unconscious again. 
 
 The postilion was of opinion we should bear the 
 wounded man to the village of Vallars, situated 
 half a league away on the hill. 
 
 "I will fetch the quietest of the three horses 
 which remain to us," said he. "We will fasten the 
 poor man safely on, and take him at a slow pace. 
 I think he is very ill. He has just the look of a 
 courier who was assassinated on St. Michael's Day,
 
 238 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 on the road four posts from here, near Senecy, 
 where my intended lives. The poor devil blinked 
 his eyelids and turned up the whites of his eyes like 
 a whore, with all respect to you, Messieurs. And 
 your Abbe did likewise when Mademoiselle tickled 
 his nose with the salts. It is a bad sign for the 
 wounded; as to the girls, they do not die for turn- 
 ing up their eyes in such fashion. Your lordships 
 know that well. And it is a far cry the Lord be 
 praised from the thrills of love to the rigors of 
 death. But it is the same turn of the eye. 
 Stay here, Messieurs, I will go and fetch the 
 horse." 
 
 "The rustic is amusing," said Monsieur d'An- 
 quetil, "with his turned-up eyes and his die-away 
 lady. In Italy I have seen soldiers die with a fixed 
 stare and their eyes starting out of their head. 
 There is no law about dying of a wound, even 
 among soldiers, where exactitude is pushed as far 
 as it will go. But have the goodness, Tourne- 
 broche, in default of some one better qualified to 
 present me to this black-clad gentleman who wears 
 diamond buttons on his coat and whom I divine to 
 be Monsieur d'Astarac." 
 
 "Ah! Monsieur," I replied, "take it as done. 
 I have no care for anything but to help my good 
 master." 
 
 "So be it," said Monsieur d'Anquetil. 
 
 And approaching Monsieur d'Astarac he said: 
 
 "Monsieur, I have taken your mistress from you. 
 I am ready to give you satisfaction." 
 
 "Monsieur," replied Monsieur d'Astarac, "thanks 
 be to Heaven, I have no connection with any 
 woman, and I do not know what you mean by speak- 
 ing thus."
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 239 
 
 At this moment the postilion returned with a 
 horse. My good master had regained conscious- 
 ness a little. We all four raised him up, and with 
 great difficulty we succeeded in placing him on the 
 horse, on which we fastened him. Then we set 
 out. I sustained him on one side, Monsieur d'An- 
 quetil on the other. The postilion held the bridle 
 and carried the lantern. Jael followed us crying. 
 Monsieur d'Astarac had regained his caleche. We 
 advanced carefully. All went well while we kept to 
 the road. But when we had to climb the steep path 
 between the vines, my good master, slipping with 
 every movement of the horse, lost the small amount 
 of strength remaining to him and fainted away once 
 more. We judged it expedient to take him off his 
 horse and to carry him in our arms. The postilion 
 held him by the arm-pits and I carried his feet. 
 The ascent was steep, and I thought several times 
 I should sink down under my living cross on the 
 stones of the path. At length the hill became eas- 
 ier. We threaded our way through a little path 
 bordered with hedges, which twisted up the hill- 
 side, and soon we perceived on our left the first 
 roofs of Vallars. At the sight we put down our 
 dismal burden and stopped a moment to take 
 breath. Then taking up our load again we pushed 
 on as far as the village. 
 
 A rosy light showed in the east above the hori- 
 zon. The morning star in the paling heavens 
 shone as white and peaceful as the moon, whose 
 slim crescent paled in the west. The birds began 
 to sing: my good master heaved a sigh. 
 
 Jael ran before us, knocking at the doors in quest 
 of a bed and a surgeon. Laden with baskets and 
 hampers the vine-growers were going to the vin-
 
 2 4 o AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 tage. One of them told Jael that Gaulard in the 
 square had lodging for travellers whether on horse 
 or on foot. 
 
 "As to the surgeon, Coquebert," he added, 
 "you see him over there under the barber's basin 
 which serves him as a sign. He is leaving his 
 house to go to his vineyard." 
 
 He was a little man, very civil. He told us 
 that since his daughter had married a short time 
 ago he had a bed in his house which would take the 
 wounded man. 
 
 At his command, his wife, a fat woman with a 
 white cap surmounted by a felt hat, put sheets on 
 the bed in the ground floor room. She helped us 
 to undress Monsieur 1'Abbe Coignard and to put 
 him to bed. Then she went off to find the priest. 
 
 Meanwhile Monsieur Coquebert examined the 
 wound. 
 
 "You see," said I, "it is but small and bleeds 
 only a little." 
 
 "That is not a good sign and does not please me 
 at all, my young Monsieur I like a big wound that 
 bleeds." ' 
 
 "I see that for a saw-bones and a village barber 
 you have not bad taste," said Monsieur d'Anquetil, 
 "nothing is worse than these small deep wounds 
 which look like mere nothings. Talk to me of a 
 fine gash in the face. That is pleasant to look at 
 and heals immediately. But you must know, my 
 good fellow, that this wounded man is my chaplain 
 and my partner at piquet. Are you man enough 
 to put him on his feet again, in spite of your face, 
 which is rather that of a purge-giver?" 
 
 "At your service," replied the surgeon-barber,
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 241 
 
 bowing. "But I also set broken bones and I dress 
 wounds. I will examine this one." 
 
 "Be quick about it, Monsieur," said I. 
 
 "Patience," said he. "First we must wash it, 
 and I am waiting till the water is hot in the 
 kettle." 
 
 My good master, who had revived a little, said 
 slowly in quite a strong voice: 
 
 "Lamp in hand he will visit all the corners of 
 Jerusalem, and that which was hidden in darkness 
 shall be brought forth to daylight." 
 
 "What are you saying, my good master?" 
 
 "Leave me alone, my son," he replied, "I am 
 occupied with thoughts suitable to my condition." 
 
 "The water is hot," said the barber. "Hold 
 this basin close to the bed. I am going to wash 
 the wound." 
 
 While he was passing a sponge filled with warm 
 water over my good master's chest, the priest en- 
 tered the room with Madame Coquebert. He held 
 in his hand a basket and some scissors. 
 
 "Here is the poor man, then," said he, "I was 
 going to my vines, but one must tend those of 
 Jesus Christ first of all. My son," he added, draw- 
 ing near him, "offer up your affliction to Our Sav- 
 iour. May be it is not so serious as you think. 
 After all, we must comply with the Will of God." 
 
 Then turning to the barber he asked : 
 
 "Monsieur Coquebert, is it a very urgent case, 
 and can I go to my vineyard? The white grapes 
 can wait, it does no harm if they are over-ripe, and 
 even a little rain will but render the wine better and 
 more abundant. But the red should be picked im- 
 mediately."
 
 242 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 "You say true, Monsieur le cure," replied Co- 
 quebert, "I have grapes in my vineyard which are 
 all covered with mildew and which have escaped 
 the heat of the sun only to perish in the rain." 
 
 "Alas!" said the cure, "damp and dryness are 
 the vinegrower's two enemies." 
 
 "Nothing is truer," said the barber, "but I must 
 probe the wound." So saying he put his finger 
 forcibly in the place. 
 
 "Ah! Executioner!" exclaimed the patient. 
 
 "Remember," said the cure, "that the Saviour 
 forgave His executioners." 
 
 "They were not barbers," said the Abbe. 
 
 "That is wickedly said," said the cure. 
 
 "You must not chide a dying man for his pleas- 
 antries," said my good master. "But I suffer 
 cruelly, this man has murdered me and I die a sec- 
 ond time. First it was at the hands of a Jew." 
 
 "What does he mean?" asked the cure. 
 
 "The best thing, Monsieur le cure, is not to 
 trouble oneself," said the barber. "One should 
 never wish to understand the speeches of the sick. 
 They are but ravings." 
 
 "Coquebert," said the cure, "you do not speak 
 rightly. One must listen to the sick in confession, 
 and some Christian who has said nothing good in 
 his life may finish by pronouncing the words which 
 shall open Paradise to him." 
 
 "I only speak of things temporal," said the 
 barber. 
 
 "Monsieur le cure," said I in my turn, "my good 
 master, Monsieur 1'Abbe Coignard, is not delirious, 
 and it is only too true that he has been assassinated 
 by a Jew named Mosai'de." 
 
 "In that case," replied the cure, "he should see
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 243 
 
 God's special favour therein Who willed that he 
 should perish by the hand of a descendant of those 
 who crucified His Son. The ways of Providence 
 in this world are always admirable. Monsieur Co- 
 quebert, may I go to my vineyard?" 
 
 "You may go, Monsieur le cure," replied the bar- 
 ber. "The wound is no light one, but it is not the 
 kind of which one dies at once. It is, Monsieur 
 le cure, one of those wounds which play with the 
 sick person like a cat with a mouse, and at that 
 game we may gain some time." 
 
 "That is well," said Monsieur le cure. "Let us 
 thank God, my son, for what life He has left you, 
 but it is precarious and transitory. One must al- 
 ways be ready to leave it." 
 
 My good master gravely made reply. 
 
 "Exist on this earth as not existing, possess with- 
 out possessing, for the image of this world passes." 
 
 Taking up his basket and his scissors Monsieur 
 le cure said: 
 
 "Judging from your speech, my son, rather than 
 from your habit and your bands that I see spread 
 on that stool, I know that you belong to the Church 
 and lead a holy life. Have you taken holy 
 orders?" 
 
 "He is a priest," said I, "doctor of theology and 
 professor of eloquence." 
 
 "In what diocese?" asked the cure. 
 
 "Of Seez in Normandy, Suffragan to Rouen." 
 
 "A notable ecclesiastical province," said Mon- 
 sieur le cure, "but which yields much in antiquity 
 and celebrity to the diocese of Rheims of which I 
 am a priest." 
 
 And he went out. Monsieur Jerome Coignard 
 passed the day peacefully. Jael wished to stay the
 
 244 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 night with the sick man. Towards eleven o'clock 
 in the evening, I left Monsieur Coquebert's house 
 and sought a lodging at the inn of the worthy Gau- 
 lard. I found Monsieur d'Astarac on the place, 
 and his shadow in the moonlight stretched nearly 
 across its whole expanse. He put his hand on my 
 shoulder as was his habit and said with his accus- 
 tomed gravity: 
 
 "It is time that I re-assured you, my son, I 
 merely accompanied Mosaide for that reason. I 
 see you have been cruelly tormented by goblins. 
 These little spirits of the earth have assailed you, 
 deceived you by all sorts of phantasmagoria, se- 
 duced you by a thousand lies, and finally driven 
 you to leave my house." 
 
 "Alas, Monsieur!" I replied, "it is true I left 
 your roof with an apparent ingratitude for which 
 I ask your pardon. But I was pursued by the po- 
 lice-sergeants, not by goblins. And my good mas- 
 ter has been assassinated. That is no phantasy." 
 
 "You may be certain of it," replied the great 
 man, "the unfortunate Abbe has been mortally 
 struck by the Sylphs whose secrets he has revealed. 
 He took from a cupboard some stones which are 
 the handiwork of the Sylphs, and which the latter 
 had left in an imperfect state, differing greatly in 
 brilliancy and pureness from the diamond. 
 
 "It is this greed and the name of Alga indis- 
 creetly pronounced which has vexed them the most. 
 Now understand, my son, it is impossible for phil- 
 osophers to arrest the vengeance of these irascible 
 people. I learnt by a supernatural channel and 
 also from Criton's report the sacrilegious larceny 
 of Monsieur Coignard, who insolently plumed him- 
 self on surprising the art by which Salamanders,
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 245 
 
 Sylphs and Gnomes, ripen the morning dew- and in- 
 sensibly transform it into crystal and diamond." 
 
 "Alas ! Monsieur, I assure you he never thought 
 of doing so, and that it was that horrible Mosaide 
 who struck him down with a dagger-thrust on the 
 road." 
 
 This speech extremely displeased Monsieur d'As- 
 tarac, who invited me in a manner not to be denied 
 to talk no more in such fashion. 
 
 "MosaTde," added he, "is a good enough cabalist 
 to reach his enemies without running after them. 
 Know, my son, that had he wished to kill Monsieur 
 Coignard, he could have done it easily in his room, 
 by the operation of magic. I see that you are still 
 ignorant of the first elements of the science. The 
 truth is that this learned man, informed by the 
 faithful Criton of his niece's flight, took post to 
 regain her, and if need be, to bring her back to his 
 house. Which is what he would certainly have 
 done, had he but discerned in the unhappy being's 
 soul some gleam of repentance and regret. But 
 seeing her quite corrupted and debauched, he pre- 
 ferred to excommunicate and curse her by all the 
 Globes, the Wheels and the Beasts of Ezekiel. 
 That is precisely what he has just done, before my 
 eyes, in the caleche where he is quartered apart, 
 so as not to share the bed and the board of 
 Christians." 
 
 I was silent, amazed at such maunderings, but 
 this extraordinary man spoke with such eloquence 
 that it did not leave me untroubled. 
 
 "Why," said he, "will you not allow yourself to 
 be enlightened by the advice of a philosopher? 
 What wisdom can you oppose to him, my son? 
 Consider then, that yours is less in quantity without
 
 246 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 
 
 differing in essence. To you, as to me, nature ap- 
 pears as an infinite multitude of images, which one 
 must recognise and classify and which form a 
 sequence of hieroglyphs. You easily distinguish 
 many of these signs to which you attach a meaning, 
 but you are too inclined to content yourself with a 
 vulgar and literal one, and do not sufficiently seek 
 the ideal and the symbolical. Nevertheless, the 
 world is only conceivable as a symbol, and all that 
 is seen in the universe is but pictured writing, which 
 the vulgar among mankind spell out without under- 
 standing. Beware, my son, of drawling and bray- 
 ing in this universal tongue, like the savants who 
 fill the academies. But rather receive at my hand 
 the key of all knowledge." 
 
 He stopped for a moment and continued his 
 speech in a more familiar tone : 
 
 "You are pursued, my son, by foes less terrible 
 than the Sylphs. And your Salamander will have 
 no trouble in ridding you of the goblins as soon as 
 you ask her to do so. I repeat, that I only came 
 here with Mosai'de to give you this good advice and 
 to press you to return to me and continue your 
 work. I understand that you wish to be with your 
 good master until the end. I give you full permis- 
 sion. But do not fail to return hereafter to my 
 house. Farewell ! I return to Paris this night with 
 the great Mosai'de whom you have so unjustly sus- 
 pected." 
 
 I promised him all he wished, and dragged my- 
 self as far as my wretched bed in the inn, on which 
 I fell, overwhelmed with sorrow and fatigue.
 
 XIX 
 
 HE following day, at early dawn, I 
 returned to the surgeon's and there 
 I found Jael by my good master's 
 bedside, sitting up straight on her 
 straw-bottomed chair, her head en- 
 veloped in her black mantle, atten- 
 tive, serious, and docile like a sister 
 of charity. Monsieur Coignard, very red in the 
 face, was dozing. "He has not had a good night," 
 she said in a low voice. "He wandered, he sang, he 
 called me sister Germaine, and made advances to 
 me. I am not offended at that, but it shows how 
 upset he is." 
 
 "Alas!" I explained, "if you had not betrayed 
 me, Jael, and scoured the roads with that fine gen- 
 tleman, my good master would not lie on this bed 
 with his breast pierced." 
 
 "It is just our friend's misfortune," she replied, 
 "which causes my consuming regret. But as for 
 the rest it is not worth a thought and 1 cannot con- 
 ceive, Jacques, how you can dwell on it at such a 
 moment." 
 
 "The thought is always with me," I answered. 
 "I," said she, "I never think of it at all. You 
 yourself provide more than three fourths of your 
 unhappiness." 
 
 "What do you mean by that, Jael?" 
 "I mean, my friend, that if I supply the stuff you 
 apply the embroidery, and that your imagination 
 enriches the simple reality far too much. I swear 
 247
 
 248 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 to you that at this present hour I do not myself re- 
 member the quarter of what causes you sorrow, 
 and you ponder so obstinately on this subject that 
 your rival is more present to you than even to my- 
 self. Think no more of it and let me give this cool- 
 ing drink to the Abbe who is just waking up." 
 
 At this moment Monsieur Coquebert approached 
 the bed with his surgical case, dressed the wound 
 afresh, and said out loud that it was well on the 
 road to recovery. Then drawing me aside he said, 
 
 "I can assure you, Monsieur, this good Abbe will 
 not die from the blow he has received. But truth 
 to tell I much fear he will not get over a rather bad 
 attack of pleurisy occasioned by his wound. Just 
 now he is in a condition of high fever. But here 
 comes Monsieur le cure." 
 
 My good master recognised him quite well and 
 asked politely how he did. 
 
 "Better than the vines," replied the cure. "For 
 they are all spoilt with blight and maggots notwith- 
 standing that the clergy of Dijon held a fine proces- 
 sion against them this year, with cross and banners. 
 But we must have a finer one next year and burn 
 more wax-lights. It will also be necessary for the 
 ecclesiastical court to excommunicate afresh the flies 
 which destroy the grapes." 
 
 "Monsieur le cure," said my good master, "they 
 say that you wanton with the girls among the vines. 
 Fie ! That is not fitting at your age. In my youth 
 I was, like you, fond of the sex. But years have 
 improved me, and latterly I let a nun pass without 
 speaking to her. You treat damsels and bottles 
 in another fashion, Monsieur le cure. But you do 
 worse still in not saying masses for which you are
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 249 
 
 paid, and in trafficking in the goods of the Church. 
 You are a bigamist and a simonist." 
 
 On hearing these words Monsieur le cure was 
 sadly surprised; his mouth remained opened, and 
 his chaps fell mournfully on either side of his big 
 face. 
 
 "What an unworthy insult to the character I 
 bear!" he sighed at last, his eyes on the ceiling. 
 "What a way he talks so near to the judgment- 
 seat of God. Oh! Monsieur 1'Abbe, is it for you 
 to talk in such fashion, who have led such a holy 
 life, and have studied so many books?" 
 
 My good master raised himself on his elbow. 
 Fever gave him back, in melancholy and unnatural 
 fashion, the jovial air we had loved to see on him. 
 
 "It is true," said he, "that I have studied the an- 
 cient writers. But I am far from being as well 
 read as was the second vicaire of my lord bishop of 
 Seez. Although he looked a donkey, and was one, 
 he was a greater reader than I. For he was cross- 
 eyed, and looking askew he read two pages at a 
 time. What do you say to that, you old rascal of 
 a cure, you old gallant who runs after wenches in 
 the moonlight? Cure, your lady-love looks like a 
 witch. She has a beard on her chin, she is the sur- 
 geon-barber's wife. He is fully cuckold and it 
 serves the homunculus right, whose whole medical 
 knowledge reaches no further than the giving of a 
 clyster." 
 
 "Lord God, wh?t is he saying?" exclaimed Ma- 
 dame Coquebert. "He must have the devil in him." 
 
 *"I have heard many sick people talk in delir- 
 ium," said Monsieur Coquebert, "but no one of 
 them talked so wickedly."
 
 250 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 "I perceive," continued the cure, "that we shall 
 have more difficulty than I thought in bringing this 
 sick man to a good end. He is of a more bitter 
 humour and has more impurity in his disposition 
 than I had at first remarked. His speeches are un- 
 seemly in an ecclesiastic and a sick person." 
 
 "It is the effect of the fever," said the surgeon- 
 barber. 
 
 "But," went on the cure, "this fever, if it does 
 not go down may lead him to hell. He has very 
 seriously failed in what is owing to a priest. I 
 shall, nevertheless, return to-morrow to exhort him, 
 for I owe him, by example of Our Lord, infinite 
 pity. But on this score I feel a lively anxiety. Ill- 
 luck will have it that there is a crack in my wine- 
 press, and all the workmen are in the vineyards. 
 Coquebert, do not fail to speak a word to the car- 
 penter, and to call me to the sick man here should 
 his condition become suddenly worse. A host of 
 cares, Coquebert!" 
 
 The next day was such a good one for Monsieur 
 Coignard that we nursed the hope that we might 
 yet keep him with us. He took some soup and sat 
 up in bed. He spoke to each of us with his usual 
 gentleness and grace. Monsieur d'Anquetil, who 
 was lodging at Gaulard's, came to see him and, 
 rather thoughtlessly, asked him to play piquet. 
 My good master smilingly promised to do so the 
 following week. But the fever took hold of him at 
 nightfall. Pale, his eyes swimming in unutterable 
 terror, shuddering, and with chattering teeth, he 
 cried : 
 
 "There he is, the old Jew! It is the son Judas 
 Iscariot fathered on a she-devil in the shape of a 
 goat. But he shall be hanged on his father's fig-
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 251 
 
 tree, and his entrails shall be shed on the earth. 
 Stop him ... he is killing me. . . . ! I am 
 cold." A moment after, throwing back his cover- 
 ings, he complained of being too hot. "I am very 
 thirsty," said he, "give me some wine. And let it 
 be cool. Madame Coquebert, make haste to go 
 and cool it in the cistern, for the day promises to 
 be burning." 
 
 It was night time but he confused the hours in 
 his brain. 
 
 "Be quick about it," he re-iterated, to Madame 
 Coquebert, "but do not be as simple-minded as the 
 bellringer of Seez Cathedral, who, on going to 
 draw the bottles from the well where he had put 
 them, perceived his reflection in the water and be- 
 gan crying out 'Hello! Messieurs! Come to my 
 help quickly, for there are antipodeans down there 
 who will drink our wine if we do not see to it.' " 
 
 "He is cheerful," said Madame Coquebert. 
 "But a short time ago he made very shocking accu- 
 sations against me. Had I deceived Coquebert it 
 would not have been with Monsieur le cure, having 
 regard to his age and position." 
 
 Monsieur le cure came in at that very moment. 
 
 "Well, Monsieur 1'Abbe," said he to my master, 
 "in what humour are you to-day? What is there 
 new?" 
 
 "Thank God," said Monsieur Coignard, "there 
 is nothing new in my soul. For, as St. Chrysostom 
 said, avoid novelties. Do not adventure on paths 
 which are as yet untried; one wanders unendingly 
 when one begins to wander. I have sad experience 
 of it. And I am lost for having followed unbeaten 
 tracks. I listened to my own counsel and it led 
 me to the pit. Monsieur le cure, I am a miser-
 
 252 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 able sinner; the number of my iniquities oppresses 
 me." 
 
 "Those are noble words," said Monsieur le cure, 
 "it is God Himself Who dictates them to you. I 
 recognise His inimitable style. Are you not de- 
 sirous that we should join in furthering the salva- 
 tion of your soul a little?" 
 
 "Willingly" said Monsieur Coignard, "for my 
 impurities rise up against me. I see both great and 
 small rear themselves before me. I see some that 
 are red and some that are black. I see some of 
 the very basest astride of dogs and pigs, and I see 
 others that are fat and stark naked, with teats like 
 leather bottles, and stomachs falling in big folds, 
 and enormous buttocks." 
 
 "Is it possible," said Monsieur le cure, "that you 
 should have so distinct a sight of them? But if 
 your faults are such as you say, my son, it were 
 better not to describe them, and to limit yourself to 
 detesting them inwardly." 
 
 "Would you have my sins fashioned like Adonis, 
 Monsieur le cure?" said the Abbe. "But enough 
 of that. And you, barber, give me to drink. Do 
 you know Monsieur de la Musardiere?" 
 
 "Not that I am aware," said Monsieur Coque- 
 bert. 
 
 "Learn then that he was very fond of women," 
 said my good master. 
 
 "It is thereby," said the cure, "that the devil 
 takes great advantage of man. But what do you 
 want to arrive at, my son?" 
 
 "You will soon see," said my good master. 
 "Monsieur de la Musardiere gave tryst to a maiden 
 in a stable. She went, and he let her go as she 
 came. Do you know why?"
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 253 
 
 ''I am ignorant," said the cure. "But enough of 
 that." 
 
 "Not so," continued Monsieur Coignard. 
 "Know then that he took care to have no connec- 
 tion with her for fear of engendering a horse, for 
 which he would have been criminally prosecuted." 
 
 u Ah!" said the barber, "he might rather have 
 feared to father a donkey." 
 
 "Without doubt," said the cure, "but that does 
 not help us on our way to Paradise. It befits us to 
 take up the good road again. A short time since 
 you gave us such edifying words." 
 
 Instead of replying my good master began to sing 
 in quite a strong voice : 
 
 To put King Louis in good fettle 
 
 They sent for a dozen lads of mettle, 
 
 Landerinette. 
 
 Who led a jovial life and free, 
 Landeriri. 
 
 "If you want to sing, my son," said Monsieur 
 le cure, "sing rather some beautiful Burgundian 
 carol. You will gladden your soul while you sanc- 
 tify it." 
 
 "Willingly," answered my good master. "There 
 are some by Guy Barozai which I hold, in their 
 apparent rusticity, as finer than the diamond and 
 more precious than gold. This one, for instance: 
 
 Then when the time did befall 
 That Jesus Christ came on to earth, 
 The ox and ass with their breath 
 Kept him warm in the stall. 
 How many an ox and an ass 
 I know in the kingdom of Gaul,
 
 254 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 
 
 How many an ox and an ass 
 
 Would have grudged him that little, alas! 
 
 The surgeon, his wife, and the cure took up 
 together : 
 
 How many an ox and an ass 
 I know in the kingdom of Gaul, 
 How many an ox and an ass 
 Would grudge him that little, alas! 
 
 And my good master went on in more feeble 
 voice : 
 
 But the part of the tale I like best, 
 Is that the ox and the ass 
 Both of them let the night pass 
 Without food or water or rest. 
 How many an ox and an ass 
 In stuff, or in silken vest, 
 How many an ox and an ass 
 Would grudge him that little, alas! 
 
 Then he let his head fall back on the pillow and 
 sang no more. 
 
 "There is good in this Christian," said Monsieur 
 le cure. "Much good, and just now again he edi- 
 fied even me by his beautiful words. But he still 
 causes me anxiety, for all hangs on the end; and one 
 does not know what may remain at the bottom of 
 the basket. God in His goodness wills that a 
 single moment should save us; furthermore, this 
 moment must be the last; so that everything de- 
 pends on a single minute, by the side of which the 
 rest of our life is as nothing. This is what makes 
 me tremble for this sick man for whom the angels 
 and the devils are fighting so furiously. But one 
 must not despair of the divine mercy."
 
 XX 
 
 WO days passed in cruel alternations. 
 Thereafter my good master fell into 
 a state of extreme weakness. 
 
 "There is no longer any hope," 
 Monsieur Coquebert said in a low 
 voice, "look how his head is sunk 
 into the pillow and notice how sharp 
 his nose has become." 
 
 Indeed, my good master's nose, formerly big and 
 red, offered no more than a curved edge as livid as 
 lead. 
 
 "Tournebroche, my son," said he, in a voice 
 which was still full and strong, but with a note in 
 it I had not heard before, "I feel that I have but 
 a short time to live. Go and find that good priest 
 that he may hear my confession." 
 
 Monsieur le cure was in his vineyard, whither 
 I ran. 
 
 "The vintage is done," he told me, "and a more 
 abundant one than I hoped; let us go and assist 
 the poor man." 
 
 I took him back to the bedside of my good master 
 and we left him alone with the dying man. 
 He came out after an hour and said to us : 
 "I can assure you that Monsieur Jerome Coig- 
 nard is dying in admirable sentiments of piety and 
 humility. At his request, and in consideration of 
 his fervour, I am about to give him the holy viati- 
 cum. While I put on my alb and stole have the 
 goodness, Madame Coquebert, to send the child 
 who serves low mass for me every day, to the sac- 
 255
 
 256 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 risty, and prepare the room to receive the blessed 
 sacrament." 
 
 Madame Coquebert swept the chamber, put a 
 white coverlet on the bed, placed at the bed-head 
 a small table which she covered with a cloth, put 
 two candlesticks with lighted candles upon it, and 
 a china bowl where a sprig of box lay steeped in 
 the holy water. 
 
 Soon we heard the bell being rung in the road by 
 the server, and we saw the cross appear, held up by 
 a child, and the priest clad in white and bearing 
 the sacred elements. Jael, Monsieur d'Anquetil, 
 Monsieur and Madame Coquebert, and I, fell on 
 our knees. 
 
 "Pax huic domui" said the priest. 
 
 "Et omnibus habit antibus," answered the server. 
 
 Then Monsieur le cure took the holy water with 
 which he sprinkled the sick man and the bed. 
 
 He remained in meditation for a moment and 
 then said: 
 
 "My son, have you no declaration to make?" 
 
 "Yes, Monsieur," said Abbe Coignard in a firm 
 voice. "I forgive my assassin." 
 
 Then the celebrant, drawing the host from the 
 ciborium, said: 
 
 "Ecce agnus Dei, qui tollit peccata mundi." 
 
 My good master answered, sighing : 
 
 "Shall I speak with My Lord, I who am but dust 
 and ashes? How shall I venture to approach 
 Thee, I who feel that no good exists in me that 
 can give me courage? How can I receive Thee 
 into my house after having so often offended Thine 
 eyes filled with loving-kindness?" 
 
 And Monsieur 1'Abbe Coignard received the holy 
 viaticum in a profound silence, rent by our sobs
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 257 
 
 and by the loud noise made by Madame Coque- 
 bert in blowing her nose. 
 
 After the administration my good master made a 
 sign to me to draw near his bed, and said in a voice 
 weak but distinct: 
 
 "Jacques Tournebroche, my son, reject, along 
 with the example I gave you, the maxims I may 
 .have proposed to you during my period of folly, 
 which alas! has lasted as long as my life. Fear 
 women and books for the enervation and the pride 
 one gains from them. Be humble in heart and mind. 
 God grants a dearer intelligence to the simple- 
 minded than the learned can ever instil. He is the 
 Giver of all knowledge, my son. Do not listen to 
 those who, like myself, subtilise over good and evil. 
 Do not allow yourself to be touched by the beauty 
 and the finesse of their talk. For the kingdom of 
 God lies not in words but in virtue." 
 
 He lay silent, exhausted. I seized his hand lying 
 on the sheet and covered it with my tears and kisses. 
 I told him he was our master, our friend, our fa- 
 ther, and that I should not know how to live with- 
 out him. 
 
 And I remained for a long time sunk in sorrow 
 at the foot of his bed. 
 
 He passed such a peaceful night that I conceived 
 a sort of despairing hope. This condition lasted 
 all through the day that followed. But towards 
 evening he became restless and murmured such in- 
 distinct words that they must forever remain a se- 
 cret between God and himself. 
 
 At midnight he sank once more into deep pros- 
 tration, and we only heard the light sound of his 
 nails plucking at the sheets. He knew us no 
 longer.
 
 258 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 
 
 Towards two o'clock the death-rattle began; the 
 hoarse, hurried breath that issued from his chest 
 was loud enough to be heard far off in the village 
 street, and my ears were so filled with it that I 
 thought I could hear it for days following that 
 wretched night. At dawn he made a sign with his 
 hand which we could not understand, and gave a 
 deep sigh. It was the last. His countenance as- 
 sumed in death a majesty worthy of the genius 
 which had animated it and whose loss will never be 
 repaired.
 
 XXI 
 
 ONSIEUR LE CURfe of Vallars 
 gave Monsieur Jerome Coignard 
 solemn burial. He sang the funeral 
 mass and gave absolution. My 
 good master was borne to the ceme- 
 tery attached to the church. And 
 Monsieur d'Anquetil gave a supper 
 at Gaulard's to all the people who had assisted at 
 the ceremony. They drank new wine and sang 
 songs of Burgundy. 
 
 The following day I went with Monsieur d'An- 
 quetil to thank Monsieur le cure for his pious care. 
 "Ah," said the holy man, "this priest has given 
 us great consolation by his edifying end. I have 
 seen few Christians die in such admirable senti- 
 ments, and the memory of them should be pre- 
 served on his tomb in a fine inscription. You are 
 both of you clever enough to do this successfully, 
 and I will see to it that the epitaph of the defunct 
 is engraved on a large white stone in the fashion 
 and order in which you shall compose it. But bear 
 in mind, in thus making the stone speak, that it pro- 
 claim but the praises of God." 
 
 I begged him to believe that I would bring all 
 my zeal to bear on it, and Monsieur d'Anquetil 
 promised on his part to give it a gallant and grace- 
 ful turn. 
 
 "I will try my hand," said he, "at French verse, 
 modelled on those of Monsieur Chapelle." 
 
 "Well and good," said Monsieur le cure. "But 
 are you not curious to see my wine-press? The 
 259
 
 2 6o AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 wine will be excellent this year and I have gathered 
 enough for my use and for that of my servant. 
 Alas! were it not for the blight we should have 
 had far more." 
 
 After supper Monsieur d'Anquetil asked for the 
 inkstand and began to compose French verses. 
 Then, impatiently, he flung pen, ink, and paper 
 away from him. 
 
 "Tournebroche," said he, "I have only written 
 two lines and I am not certain if even those are 
 good; here they are such as they have come to me: 
 
 "Monsieur Coignard here doth lie, 
 Soon or late we all must die." 
 
 I answered that they had this much good in them 
 that they needed no third. 
 
 And I spent the night in turning a Latin epitaph 
 in the following manner: 
 
 D.O.M. 
 
 HIC JACET 
 
 in spe beatae aeternitatis 
 
 DOMINUS HIERONYMUS COIGNARD 
 
 presbyter 
 
 quondam in Bellovacensi collegio 
 
 eloquentiae magister eloquentissimus 
 
 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. Hi. 
 comitate fuit optima doctissimo convitu
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 261 
 
 ingenio sublimi 
 facetiis jucundus sententiis plenus 
 
 donorum Dei laudator 
 fide devotissima per multas tempestates 
 
 constanter munitus 
 humilitate sanctissima ornatus 
 
 saluti suae magis intentus 
 
 quam vano et fallaci hominum judicio 
 
 sic honoribus mundanis 
 
 nunquam quaesitis 
 
 sibi gloriam sempiternam 
 
 meruit. 
 
 Which means 
 
 HERE LIES 
 
 in hope of blissful eternity 
 MESSIRE JEROME COIGNARD 
 
 priest 
 formerly eloquent professor of eloquence 
 
 in the college of Beauvais 
 most zealous librarian to the bishop 
 
 of Seez 
 author of a fine translation from Zozimus 
 
 the Panipolitan 
 
 which unhappily he left unfinished 
 
 when overtaken by premature death. 
 
 He was struck down on the Lyons road 
 
 in the 52nd year of his age 
 by the scoundrelly hand of a Jew 
 
 and thus perished a victim to a descendant of the execution- 
 ers of Jesus Christ. 
 He was agreeable in intercourse 
 learned in conversation 
 and of a lofty genius 
 flowing with joyful talk and admirable precepts 
 
 and praised God in his works. 
 Through the tempest of life he kept
 
 262 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 
 
 an unshaken faith 
 
 more careful for the salvation of his soul 
 
 than for the empty and deceitful goodwill of mankind 
 
 it was while living without honours 
 
 in this world 
 that he directed his path to eternal glory.
 
 XXII 
 
 HREE days after my good master 
 had rendered up his soul Monsieur 
 d'Anquetil decided to set off once 
 more. The carriage was mended. 
 He gave orders to the postilions to 
 be ready for the following morn- 
 ing. His society had never been 
 pleasing to me. In the sad mood I was in it had 
 become odious. I could not bear the idea of fol- 
 lowing him with Jael. I resolved to seek employ- 
 ment at Tournus or Macon and to live there hidden 
 until the storm having abated, it would be possible 
 for me to return to Paris where I knew my parents 
 would receive me with open arms. I made known 
 this plan to Monsieur d'Anquetil and excused my- 
 self for not accompanying him further. He ex- 
 erted himself at first to keep me with a good grace 
 which he had not led me to expect, then he willingly 
 gave me my leave. Jael was more regretful over 
 it, but being naturally sensible she understood the 
 reasons I had for leaving her. 
 
 The night preceding my departure, while Mon- 
 sieur d'Anquetil drank and played cards with the 
 surgeon-barber, we went out on to the market-place, 
 Jael and I, to breathe the air. It was scented with 
 grasses and filled with the song of crickets. 
 
 "What a beautiful night," I said to Jael, 
 "the year will bring no more like it, and perhaps 
 in all my life I shall never again see one so 
 sweet." 
 
 263
 
 264 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 Before us the village cemetery, flower-filled, 
 spread its immobile waves of grass, and the moon- 
 light whitened the scattered grave stones on the 
 dark herbage. The thought came to us both at the 
 same time to go and say good-bye to our friend. 
 The spot where he reposed was marked by a cross 
 sprinkled with pictured tears, whose foot sank in 
 the soft earth. The stone on which the epitaph was 
 to be inscribed was not put up yet. We sat down 
 near by, on the grass and there, from unconscious 
 and natural inclination, we fell into one another's 
 arms, without fear of offending with our kisses the 
 memory of a friend whose profound wisdom ren- 
 dered him indulgent to human weaknesses. 
 
 All at once Jael whispered in my ear, where for 
 the moment her lips happened to be: 
 
 "I see Monsieur d'Anquetil on the cemetery wall, 
 and he is looking keenly in our direction." 
 
 "Can he see us in the shadow?" I asked. 
 
 "He can certainly see my white skirts," she re- 
 plied. "It is quite enough to make him want to 
 see more." 
 
 I was already thinking of drawing my sword and 
 I was quite decided to defend two existences which 
 at the moment were indeed all but one. Jael's 
 calm astonished me; nothing in her gestures or her 
 voice betrayed fear. 
 
 "Go," said she, "fly, have no fear for me. It is 
 a surprise which I have more or less desired. He 
 was beginning to tire, and this is excellent for re- 
 awakening his taste and adding a spice to his love. 
 Go, and leave me. The first few moments will be 
 hard to bear for he is of a passionate disposition. 
 He will beat me but I shall only be dearer to him 
 afterwards. Farewell."
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 265 
 
 "Alas," I exclaimed "did you but take me, Jael, 
 to sharpen the desire of a rival?" 
 
 "I am surprised that you too wish to quarrel 
 with me. Go, I tell you." 
 
 "What, and leave you thus?" 
 
 "It must be. Farewell. He must not find you 
 here. I want to make him jealous, but with dis- 
 cretion. Farewell, farewell." 
 
 I had scarcely taken a few steps in the labyrinth 
 of tombs when Monsieur d'Anquetil having come 
 near enough to recognise his mistress cried and 
 swore loud enough to wake all these village dead. 
 I was impatient to free Jael from his wrath. I 
 thought he would kill her. Already I was gliding 
 to her rescue in the shadow of the tombs. But 
 after some minutes, while I watched them carefully, 
 I saw Monsieur d'Anquetil push her out of the 
 cemetery and take her to Gaulard's inn, with the 
 remains of a fury she was well capable of pacifying 
 alone and without help. 
 
 I regained my room when they had gone back to 
 theirs. I did not sleep that night,' and spying on 
 them in the dawn, through the opening in the cur- 
 tains, I saw them cross the courtyard of the inn with 
 great show of friendship. 
 
 Jael's departure increased my sadness. I threw 
 myself full-length in the middle of my room, and, 
 my face in my hands, wept till evening.
 
 XXIII 
 
 T this period my life loses the interest 
 it had borrowed from circumstances, 
 and my destiny, conforming once 
 more with my character, offers 
 nothing but what is commonplace. 
 If I prolonged my memoirs my nar- 
 rative would soon appear insipid. 
 I will bring it to a close in a few words. Monsieur 
 le cure of Vallars gave me a letter of recommenda- 
 tion to a wine merchant in Macon, with whom I 
 found employment for two months, at the end of 
 which my father wrote he had arranged my affairs 
 and that I could return to Paris without any dan- 
 ger. 
 
 I immediately took the coach and made the 
 journey with some recruits. My heart beat as if it 
 would burst when I saw once again the rue St. 
 Jacques, the clock of St. Benoit-le-Betourne, the 
 sign-board of the Trois Pucelles, and the St. Cath- 
 erine of Monsieur Blaizot. 
 
 . My mother wept at the sight of me. I wept, we 
 embraced, and we wept anew. My father, coming 
 in all haste from the Petit Bacchus, said, with soft- 
 ened dignity: 
 
 "Jacquot, my son, I will not hide from you that 
 I was very irritated with you when I saw the police 
 enter the Reine Pedauque to take you, or failing 
 you, to take me in your place. They would not 
 listen to anything, affirming that it would be per- 
 266
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 267 
 
 mitted to me to explain myself in prison. They 
 sought you on a complaint lodged by Monsieur de 
 la Gueritaude. I formed a horrible notion of your 
 evil ways in my own mind. But having learnt from 
 your letters that they were but peccadilloes I 
 thought only of seeing you again. I have consulted 
 many a time with the landlord of the Petit Bacchus 
 on the means of hushing up your affair. He always 
 answered me, 'Maitre Leonard, go and find the 
 judge with a big bag of ecus and he will give you 
 back your son as white as snow.' But ecus are rare 
 here, and there is neither chicken, goose nor duck 
 which lays golden eggs in my house. At the most, 
 nowadays, the poultry pays but for the fire in my 
 chimney. By good luck your sainted and worthy 
 mother had the idea of going to find Monsieur 
 d'Anquetil's mother, who we knew was busied in 
 her son's favour, sought for at the same time as 
 you and for the same affair. For I recognise, my 
 Jacquot, that you have played the scoundrel in com- 
 pany with a gentleman, and my heart is too well 
 placed not to feel the honour which is thus reflected 
 over all the family. Your mother then demanded 
 an interview with Madame d'Anquetil in her house 
 in the faubourg St. Antoine. She had dressed her- 
 self neatly as if she were going to mass, and Ma- 
 dame d'Anquetil received her kindly. Your mother 
 is a saintly woman, Jacquot, but she is not very 
 well-bred, and she spoke at first unconventionally 
 and in an unseemly fashion. She said, 'Madame, 
 at our age, nothing is left us after God, but our 
 children.' It was not the thing to say to that great 
 lady who still has her lovers." 
 
 "Be quiet, Leonard," said my mother, "Madame 
 d'Anquetil's behaviour is not known to you, and I
 
 268 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 must have spoken well enough to the lady, for she 
 replied : 
 
 " 'Be at peace, Madame Menetrier, I will act for 
 your son as for my own; count on my zeal.' And 
 you know, Leonard, that before two months had 
 elapsed we received the assurance that our Jacquot 
 could return to Paris without any anxiety." 
 
 We supped with good appetite. My father 
 asked me whether I counted on remaining in Mon- 
 sieur d'Astarac's service. I replied that after the 
 ever-to-be-regretted death of my good master I had 
 no wish to find myself with that cruel Mosaide and 
 with a gentleman who paid his servants only in fine 
 speeches. My father obligingly invited me to turn 
 his spit as before. 
 
 "Latterly I have given the employment to 
 brother Ange, Jacquot," he told me, but he ac- 
 quitted himself less well than Miraut and even than 
 you. Will you not take your place on the stool 
 again in the chimney-corner, my son?" 
 
 My mother who, simple as she was, did not lack 
 judgment, shrugged her shoulders and said: 
 
 "Monsieur Blaizot, who is a bookseller at the 
 sign of St. Catherine, has need of an assistant. 
 That employment, my son, would fit you like a 
 glove. You have gentle ways and good manners. 
 That is what is suitable for the selling of Bibles." 
 
 I went at once and offered myself to Monsieur 
 Blaizot, who took me into his service. 
 
 My misfortunes had rendered me wise. I was 
 not discouraged by the humbleness of my task, and 
 I fulfilled it with exactitude, handling the feather- 
 brush and the broom to my patron's satisfaction. 
 
 My duty was to pay a call on Monsieur d'As- 
 tarac. I presented myself at the great alchemist's
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 269 
 
 the last Sunday in November after the mid-day 
 dinner. The distance is great from the rue St. 
 Jacques to the Cross of Les Sablons, and the al- 
 manack does not lie when it tells us that the days 
 are short in November. When I arrived at La 
 Roule night had fallen, and a dark fog covered the 
 deserted road. I meditated sadly in the gloom. 
 
 "Alas!" I said to myself, "it will soon be a 
 year since for the first time I took the same road 
 in the snow in the company of my good master, 
 who rests now on a vine-covered hill in a village of 
 Burgundy. He fell asleep in the hope of eternal 
 life. And that is a hope it befits us to share with 
 so learned and wise a man. God keep me from 
 ever doubting the immortality of the soul. But 
 one must own to one's self that all that belongs to 
 a future existence and to another world appertains 
 to those imperceptible truths which one believes 
 without being affected by them, and which have 
 neither taste nor savour, in such wise that one swal- 
 lows them without being aware of them. For mv 
 part, I am not consoled by the thought of one day 
 meeting Monsieur 1'Abbe Coignard once more in 
 Paradise. Surely he would not be recognisable, 
 and his speeches would not have the charm they 
 borrowed from circumstances." 
 
 While making these reflections I saw before me a 
 great light spreading over half the sky; the fog was 
 reddened with it right over my head, and the light 
 palpitated at its source. A heavy smoke mingled 
 with the vapours of the air. I feared at once that 
 it was the chateau d'Astarac on fire. I hastened 
 my steps, and I soon saw that my fears were but 
 too well-founded. I perceived the Calvary of Les 
 Sablons opaquely black against a torrent of flame
 
 270 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 and I saw, nearly at the same time, the chateau 
 whose windows all blazed as if for a sinister revel. 
 The little green door was burst open. Shadows 
 moved in the park and whispered in horror. They 
 were the inhabitants of the town of Neuilly who 
 had hastened thither out of curiosity and to bring 
 help. Some were throwing jets of water from a 
 pump, which fell like glittering rain in the blazing 
 furnace. A thick column of smoke rose above the 
 chateau. A rain of sparks and cinders fell around 
 me, and I soon perceived that my clothes and hands 
 were blackened with them. I thought with despair 
 that this dust which filled the air was the remains 
 of so many beautiful books and precious manu- 
 scripts which had been my master's joy, the re- 
 mains perhaps of Zozimus the Panipolitan, at 
 which we had worked together during the noblest 
 hours of my life. 
 
 I had seen Monsieur 1'Abbe Coignard die. This 
 time it was his very soul, his shining and gentle 
 soul, that I thought I saw reduced to powder with 
 the queen of libraries. I felt that a part of myself 
 was destroyed at the same time. The wind which 
 was rising added strength to the fire, and the flames 
 roared like hungry throats. Seeing a man from 
 Neuilly, blacker than I was myself, and wearing but 
 his waistcoat, I asked him if they had saved Mon- 
 sieur d'Astarac and his people. 
 
 "No one," said he, "has come out of the chateau 
 except an old Jew, who was seen to escape with 
 some bundles towards the marshes. He lived in 
 the keeper's cottage on the river, and was hated for 
 his origin and for the crimes of which he was sus- 
 pected. Some children pursued him, and in flying 
 he fell into the Seine. He was fished out dead,
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 271 
 
 holding to his heart a grammary and six gold cups. 
 You can see him on the bank in his yellow robe. 
 He is awful, with open eyes." 
 
 "Ah,'' I replied, "his end was due to his crimes. 
 But his death will not give me back the best of mas- 
 ters, whom he assassinated. Tell me again, has no 
 one seen Monsieur d'Astarac?" 
 
 At the moment when I asked this question I 
 heard one of the restless shadows near me give a 
 terror-stricken cry: 
 
 "The roof is going to fall in." 
 
 Then I recognised with horror the tall black 
 form of Monsieur d'Astarac running along the gut- 
 ter. The alchemist cried in a ringing voice : 
 
 "I rise on the wings of the flame into the abode 
 of divine life." 
 
 He spoke: all at once the roof gave way with 
 a horrible crash, and flames high as mountains en- 
 veloped the friend of the Salamanders.
 
 XXIV 
 
 HERE is no love can outlast absence. 
 The memory of Jael, cruel at first, 
 softened little by little, and there re- 
 mained to me but a vague restless- 
 ness of which she was not even the 
 unique object. 
 
 Monsieur Blaizot waxed old. 
 He withdrew to Montrouge, to his little house in 
 the fields, and sold me his stock-in-trade in consid- 
 eration of an allowance for life. Becoming, in his 
 place, sworn bookseller at the sign of the Image de 
 Sa'inte Catherine, I made my father and mother re- 
 tire there, for their cook-shop had not smoked for 
 some time past. I had a liking for my modest shop 
 and I was solicitous to deck it. I nailed old Vene- 
 tian maps on the doors, and these ornamented with 
 allegorical engravings, which make an odd and old- 
 world ornamentation no doubt, but pleasant to 
 friends of the classics. My knowledge, on the con- 
 dition that I took care to hide it, did me no harm in 
 my business. It would have stood more in my light 
 had I been, like Marc-Michel Rey, bookseller and 
 publisher, and obliged as he was to earn my living 
 at the expense of public stupidity. 
 
 I stock, as they say, the classic authors, and it is 
 a commodity which has its price in this learned rue 
 St. Jacques, whose antiquities and illustrious occu- 
 pants it would give me pleasure one day to write of. 
 The first Parisian printer set up his venerable 
 272
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 273 
 
 presses here. The Cramoisys,* whom Guy Patin 
 calls the kings of the rue St. Jacques, sent forth 
 from here the collected works of our historians. 
 Before the College of France rose up, the king's 
 readers Pierre Danes, t Frangois Votable, and 
 Ramus,| g av e their lessons in a shed where re- 
 sounded the quarrels of porters and washerwomen. 
 And how can we forget Jean de Meung, who, in a 
 little house in this street, composed the Romaunt 
 of the Rose? 
 
 I have the run of all the house, which is old, and 
 dates at least from the Gothic period, as appears 
 in the beams of wood which cross on the narrow 
 fagade, in the two projecting storeys, and in the 
 overhanging roof laden with moss-grown tiles. It 
 has but one window on each floor. The one on the 
 first floor is full of flowers in all seasons and fur- 
 nished with strings on which convolvulus and nas- 
 turtium climb in the spring-time. My good mother 
 plants and waters them. 
 
 It is the window of her room. One can see her 
 from the street, reading her prayers from a book 
 printed in large type, above the sign of Sainte Cath- 
 erine. Years, devotion, and maternal pride have 
 given her an air of dignity, and to see her waxen 
 
 Les Cramoisy. Family of printers living in Paris, lyth century. 
 
 f Danes, Pierre. Hellenist, b. Paris 1497. 
 
 %Ramus. Pierre La Raraee, known as Ramus. Philosopher and 
 grammarian. He was the precursor of Descartes. Killed at the 
 Massacre of St. Bartholomew, 1515-1572. 
 
 Jacques Tournebroche was unaware that Francois Villon lived 
 in the rue St. Jacques, at the house in the cloister of St. Benoit, 
 called the house of the green door. Monsieur Jerome Coignard's 
 pupil would no doubt have taken pleasure in recalling the memory 
 of this old poet who, like him, had known divers kinds of people. 
 [A. France.]
 
 274 AT THE SIGN OF 
 
 face under the high white coif one would swear it 
 was that of a rich bourgeoise. 
 
 My father, with advancing years, has also ac- 
 quired a certain dignity. As he likes fresh air and 
 movement I occupy him in carrying the books to 
 town. At first I had employed brother Ange, but 
 he asked for alms of my clients, made them kiss 
 relics, stole their wine, caressed their maid-servants, 
 and left half my books in all the gutters of the 
 neighbourhood, I withdrew his appointment as soon 
 as possible. But my good mother, whom he makes 
 believe he possesses secrets wherewith to gain 
 heaven, gives him soup and wine. He is not a bad 
 man and he has ended by inspiring me with a sort 
 of attachment. 
 
 Many savants and some of our wits frequent my 
 shop. And it is the great advantage of my position 
 to be put in daily intercourse with people of worth. 
 Among those who come oftenest to turn over the 
 leaves of the new books and converse familiarly 
 with one another, are historians as learned as Tille- 
 mont, ecclesiastical orators who equal Bossuet and 
 even Bourdaloue in eloquence; poets, comic and 
 tragic; theologians in whom pureness of morals is 
 joined to solidity of doctrine; esteemed authors of 
 Spanish romances; geometricians and philosophers 
 capable, like Monsieur Descartes, of measuring and 
 weighing universes. I admire them, I relish their 
 lightest words. But none, to my thinking, equals in 
 genius the good master I had the misfortune to lose 
 on the Lyons road; none recalls that incomparable 
 elegance of thought, the sweet sublimity, that amaz- 
 ing richness of a soul always overflowing and pour^ 
 ing forth like the urns of those personified rivers
 
 THE REINE PEDAUQUE 275 
 
 one sees in marble in the gardens; none offers me 
 that inexhaustible wellspring of knowledge and 
 morals where I had the happiness to slake the thirst 
 of my youth; none gives me even the shadow of 
 that grace, that wisdom, that vigour of thought 
 which shone in Monsieur Jerome Coignard. Him 
 I hold for the kindliest soul that ever blossomed on 
 this earth.
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL UBRAfl