The Queen Pedauque Part 11

"Such was their lot, and such could still be ours. Why was it that the parents of the human species, fatigued by celestial luxury, should try to find criminal enjoyments with one another?

"But what could you expect, my son? Kneaded of clay they had a taste for mud. Alas! they became acquainted with one another in the same way as they had known the genii.

"And that was what the demiurge had expressly forbidden them. Afraid, and with reason, that they would produce between them children as clumsy as themselves, terrestrial and heavy, he forbade them, under severest penalties, to approach each other. Such is the sense of Eve's words: 'But of the fruit of the tree which is in the midst of the garden, G.o.d hath said, Ye shall not eat of it, neither shall ye touch it lest ye die.' For you well understand, my son, that the apple which tempted wretched Eve was not the fruit of an apple-tree; that was an allegory the sense of which I have explained to you. Although imperfect, and sometimes violent and capricious, Jehovah was too intelligent a demiurge to be offended about an apple or a pomegranate. One has to be a bishop or a Capuchin to support such extravagant imaginations. And the proof that the apple was what I said, is that Eve was stricken by a punishment suitable to her fault. She had not been told 'You will digest laboriously,' but it was said to her 'You'll give birth in pain'; for logic sake what connection can be established, I beg of you, between an apple and difficult confinement? On the other hand, the suffering is correctly applied if the fault has been such as I showed you.

"That is, my son, the truthful explanation of original sin. It will teach you your duty, which is, to keep away from women. To follow this bent is fatal. All children born by those means are imbecile and miserable."

I was stupefied, and exclaimed:

"But, sir, could children be born in another way?"

"Happily, some are born in another way," was his reply; "a considerable number by the union of men with genii of the air. And such are intelligent and beautiful. By such means were born the giants of whom Hesiod and Moses speak. Thus also Pythagoras was born, to whose bodily formation his mother, a Salamander, had contributed a thigh of pure gold. Such also Alexander the Great, said to have been the son of Olympias and a serpent; Scipio Africa.n.u.s, Aristomenes of Messina, Julius Caesar, Porphyry, the Emperor Julian, who re-established the oath of fire abolished by Constantine the Apostate, Merlin the enchanter, child of a Sylph and a nun daughter of Charlemagne; Saint Thomas Aquinas, Paracelsus and, but recently, M. Van Helmont."

I promised M. d'Asterac, as such were the facts, that I would be willing to lend myself to the friendship of a Salamander, if one were to be found obliging enough to wish for me. He a.s.sured me that I should meet not one but a score or more, between whom I should have my free choice.

And less by longing for the adventure than to give him pleasure, I asked the philosopher how it is possible to enter into communication with these aerial persons.

"Nothing easier," he replied. "All that's wanted is a gla.s.s ball, the use of which I'll explain to you. I have always at home a pretty good number of such b.a.l.l.s, and in my study I'll very soon give you all necessary enlightenment. But, for to-day, my son, enough is said of it."

He rose, and walked in the direction of the ferry, where the ferryman waited for us, lying outstretched on his back and snoring at the moon.

As soon as we had reached the opposite sh.o.r.e he quickly went on, and was soon lost in the darkness.

CHAPTER XIV

Visit to Mademoiselle Catherine--The Row in the Street and my Dismissal.

A confused sentiment as of a dream remained with me after this long conversation, but the thoughts of Catherine became keener. In despite of the sublimities I had been listening to, I was overcome by a powerful desire to see her, although I had not had any supper. The ideas of philosophy had not sufficiently penetrated me to cause anything like a disgust at that pretty girl. I was resolved to follow my good fortune to its end before becoming the prey of one of those beautiful furies of the air, who do not want any human rival. My only fear was that Catherine, at so late an hour, had become tired of waiting for me. So running along the river bank, and pa.s.sing the royal bridge at a gallop, I stormed into the Rue du Bac. Within a single minute I had reached the Rue de Grenelle, where I heard shouting mixed up with the clashing of swords.

The noise came out of the very house Catherine had described to me. In front of it, on the pavement, shadows and lanterns were visible, and voices to be heard.

"Help, Jesus! I'm being murdered!... fall on the Capuchin! Forward!

Spike him!... Jesus, Mary, help me!... Look on the pretty favourite lover! On him! On him! Spike him, rascals, spike him hard!"

The windows of the adjoining houses were opened, heads in night-caps appeared.

Suddenly all this noise and bustle pa.s.sed before me like a hunt in the forest, and I recognised Friar Ange running away at such a speed that his sandals hammered on his behind, while three long devils of lackeys, armed like Swiss guards, followed him closely, larding him with the points of their javelins. Their master, a young gentleman, thick-set and ruddy-faced, continued to encourage them by voice and gesture, just as he would have done with dogs:

"Fall on! Fall on! Spike! The beast is tough!"

As he came close to me, I said:

"Oh! sir, have you no pity?"

"Sir," he replied, "it's easily seen that yonder Capuchin has not caressed your mistress, and you have not surprised madam, whom you see here, in the arms of this stinking beast. One cannot say anything about her financier, because one has manners. But a Capuchin cannot be borne.

Burn the brazen-faced hussy!"

And he showed me Catherine under the doorway, clad in nothing but a chemise, her eyes glistening with tears, wringing her hands, more beautiful than ever, and murmuring in a dying voice, which cut deep into my soul:

"Don't kill him! It's Friar Ange, the little friar!"

The rascally lackeys returned, announcing that they had given up the pursuit at the appearance of the watch, but not without driving half a finger deep their pikes in the holy man's behind. The night-caps vanished from the windows, which were closed again, and whilst the young n.o.bleman talked to his followers, I went up to Catherine, whose tears began to dry in the pretty folds of her smile. She said to me:

"The poor friar is safe, but I trembled for him. Men are terrible. When they love you they will not listen to anything."

"Catherine," I said, with no slight grudge, "did you make me come here for no other purpose than to listen to the quarrels of your friends?

Alas! I have no right to take part in them."

"You would have had, M. Jacques," she said, "you should have had, if you had wanted."

"But," I continued, "you are the most courted lady in Paris. You never mentioned yonder young gentleman."

"I had no occasion to think of him. He came quite unexpectedly."

"And he surprised you with Friar Ange?"

"He fancied he saw things which did not occur. He is hot-headed and does not want to listen to any reason."

The half-opened chemise disclosed under transparent laces a breast swollen like a beautiful fruit and adorned like a budding rose. I took her in my arms and covered her bosom with kisses.

"Heavens!" she exclaimed, "in the street! Before M. d' Anquetil, who sees us."

"Who is M. d'Anquetil?"

"Pardi! he is the murderer of Friar Ange. Who else do you fancy he may be?"

"True, Catherine, no others are wanted. Your friends surround you in sufficient numbers."

"M. Jacques, do not insult me, if you please."

"I do not insult you, Catherine. I acknowledge your charms, to which I should like to render the same homage that others do."

"M. Jacques, what you have now said smells odiously of the cookshop, of that old codger who is your father."

"Not so very long ago, Mam'selle Catherine, you were mighty glad to smell its cooking-stove."

"Fie! the villain! the mean rascal! He outrages a woman!"

And now she began to squeak and squeal, and M d'Anquetil left his servants, came up to us, and pushed her into the house, calling her a cheat and a rake, went into the pa.s.sage behind her, and slammed the door in my face.

CHAPTER XV

In the Library with M. Jerome Coignard--A Conversation on Morals--Taken to M. d'Asterac's Study--Salamanders again--The Solar Powder--A Visit and its Consequences.