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He had done a pretty stroke of work, nom de Dieu, idiot! He paced up and down, trying to think of some stratagem, some explanations, some cunning trick, and from time to time he rinsed his mouth with a swallow of "fil en dix" to give him courage. But no ideas came to him, not one. Towards midnight his watch dog, a kind of cross wolf called "Devorant," began to howl frantically.
"Devorant" gave a bound, then stopped short, his hair bristling, his legs rigid, his muzzle in the air, his nose pointed towards the manure heap. Saint Anthony, trembling from head to foot, faltered: "What's the matter with you, you dirty hound?" and he walked a few steps forward, gazing at the indistinct outlines, the sombre shadow of the courtyard.
He is only great, sublime, penetrating, when he is a theologian; in other words, when he is announcing positive and everlasting dogmas, free from all quibble, and which are so clearly marked with the eastern cast, that not to perceive it one must never have had a glimpse of Asia.... There was in him a sophist and a theologian, or, if you choose, a Greek and a Chaldean. The Athenians could never pardon one of their great leaders, all of whom fell victims in one shape or another to a temper frivolous as that of a child, ferocious as that of men, 'espèce de moutons enragés, toujours menés par la nature, et toujours par nature dévorant leurs bergers. As for their oratory, 'the tribune of Athens would have been the disgrace of mankind if Phocion and men like him, by occasionally ascending it before drinking the hemlock or setting out for their place of exile, had not in some sort balanced such a mass of loquacity, extravagance, and cruelty.
He had done a pretty stroke of work, nom de Dieu, idiot! He paced up and down, trying to think of some stratagem, some explanations, some cunning trick, and from time to time he rinsed his mouth with a swallow of "fil en dix" to give him courage. But no ideas came to him, not one. Towards midnight his watch dog, a kind of cross wolf called "Devorant," began to howl frantically.
Now, then, who are the Devorants? "Devorant" is the name of one of those tribes of "Companions" that issued in ancient times from the great mystical association formed among the workers of Christianity to rebuild the temple at Jerusalem.
Sous son mantelet elle cache une aile, Son bonnet charmant est a peine eclos. J'errais avec toi, pressant ton bras souple. Les passants crovaient que l'amour charme Avait marie, dans notre heureux couple, Le doux mois d'avril au beau mois de mai. Nous vivions caches, contents, porte close, Devorant l'amour, bon fruit defendu, Ma bouche n'avait pas dit une chose Que deja ton coeur avait repondu.
Happily for our present public safety, when a Devorant is ambitious, he builds houses, lays by his money, and leaves the Order. But such details would be out of place here.
Father Anthony shuddered to the marrow of his bones, and each time the beast began his long and lugubrious wail the old man's skin turned to goose flesh. He had sunk into a chair, his legs weak, stupefied, done up, waiting anxiously for "Devorant" to set up another howl, and starting convulsively from nervousness caused by terror. The clock downstairs struck five. The dog was still howling.
"Devorant" gave a bound, then stopped short, his hair bristling, his legs rigid, his muzzle in the air, his nose pointed towards the manure heap. Saint Anthony, trembling from head to foot, faltered: "What's the matter with you, you dirty hound?" and he walked a few steps forward, gazing at the indistinct outlines, the sombre shadow of the courtyard.
Fortunately, however, for peace and public order; if a Devorant is ambitious, he takes to building houses, makes a fortune, and leaves the guild.
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