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He desired his secretary to go to the devil, but, thinking better of it, he recalled him as he reached the door. His cherished vanity craved expression. "Wait!" said he. "There is a letter must be written. The King's business may not suffer postponement not for all the dowagers in France. Sit down." Babylas obeyed him. Tressan stood with his back to the open door.
The lofty car, that transported the relics of Babylas, was followed, and accompanied, and received, by an innumerable multitude; who chanted, with thundering acclamations, the Psalms of David the most expressive of their contempt for idols and idolaters.
Madame de Chavoncourt asked Monsieur de Soulas. "In the first place, madame, I live in the Rue Neuve, at the corner of the Rue du Perron; I look out on the house where this mysterious personage lodges; then, of course, there are communications between my tiger and Jerome." "And you gossip with Babylas?" "What would you have me do out riding?"
He passed as a well-informed traveler, and could say, "In England, where I went..." The dowagers of the town would say to him, "You, who have been in England..." He had been as far as Lombardy, and seen the shores of the Italian lakes. He read new books. Finally, when he was cleaning his gloves, the tiger Babylas replied to callers, "Monsieur is very busy."
The secretary's horror grew by leaps and bounds. Surely the storm would burst at last about this audacious woman's head. But the Lord Seneschal usually so fiery and tempestuous did no more than make her another of his absurd bows. "You anticipate, madame, the very words I was about to utter. Babylas, vanish!" And he waved the scribbler doorwards with a contemptuous hand.
He donned his wig, awry in his haste, and lurched forward towards Anselme, his fat fingers straining at his open doublet and drawing it together. "Madame la Douairiere here?" he cried. "Make fast these buttons, rascal! Quick! Am I to receive a lady thus? Am I ? Babylas," he snapped, interrupting himself and turning aside even as Anselme put forth hands to do his bidding. "A mirror, from my closet!
Asia Minor, Syria, and Egypt had already afforded victims to the persecution, and cried aloud to all Christians for their most earnest prayers and for repeated Masses in behalf of those who remained under the trial. Babylas, Bishop of Antioch, the third see in Christendom, was already martyred in that city.
"Oh, as for that, I am no bigot. The priesthood is a professional matter, and the name of Apollo is as good as any other. How many altars do you think there have been in this grove?" "I do not know." "Just four-and-twenty, including that of the martyr Babylas, whose ruined chapel you see just beyond us. I have had something to do with most of them in my time. They are transitory.
Babylas held the mirror, and Anselme adjusted the Seneschal's wig, whilst Tressan himself twisted his black mustachios how they kept their colour was a mystery to his acquaintance and combed the tuft of beard that sprouted from one of his several chins. He took a last look at his reflection, rehearsed a smile, and bade Anselme introduce his visitor.
Babylas to their former habitation within the walls of Antioch. The modest behavior which might have assuaged the jealousy of a hostile government was neglected, on this occasion, by the zeal of the Christians.
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