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Well, the sermon you preached the day before yesterday, which all Paris is talking about, and in which you endeavored to prove the personality of the devil to be a fact, was truer than perhaps you believed when you preached it. Why should not Frontignan have seen the spirit of love when I know and have seen the devil?" "Mon ami, you are insane!" cried Gérard. "Why, the devil does not exist!"
For two days he received no reply to this letter, nor did he happen, in the interval, to meet the Prince in society, although he heard of him from De Frontignan and others; but on the third day the following note was brought to him: "MON CHER AMI: There is no question of triumph, any more than there is of deception. I will call for you this evening at half-past nine.
Noli, Albenga, Oneglia, Monaco, Nice, Antibes, Frejus, Aix, Marseilles, Avignon, Nismes, Montpellier, Frontignan, Sette, Agde, and along the canal of Languedoc, by Beziers, Narbonne, Carcassonne, Castelnaudari, through the Souterrain of St. Feriol, and back by Castelnaudari, to Toulouse; thence to Montauban, and down the Garonne by Langon to Bordeaux.
The biggest are not the best; but, said Panurge, rather would I had here a large butt of that same good Languedoc wine that grows at Mirevaux, Canteperdrix, and Frontignan. I saw a good likely sort of a man there, much resembling Ventrose, tearing and fuming in a grievous fret with a tall burly groom and a pimping little page of his, laying them on, like the devil, with a buskin.
Malmsey, when genuine, is a rich and highly cordial wine. There is a variety of it called green Malmsey, bearing some resemblance to Frontignan.
The markets in Montpellier are well supplied with fish, poultry, butcher's meat, and game, at reasonable rates. The wine of the country is strong and harsh, and never drank, but when mixed with water. Burgundy is dear, and so is the sweet wine of Frontignan, though made in the neighbourhood of Cette.
Near Frontignan the prospect improves, as far merely as concerns its fertility; for it is in the vicinity of this town that the famous Frontignac wine, or to denominate it more correctly, the Muscat de Frontignan, is made.
"Did you not tell me years ago that you thought Home a more serious evil than the typhoid fever?" "Ah, Home the medium!" cried Gérard in great disgust. "I admit you are right. It is not possible, Prince, that you encourage Frontignan in his absurd spiritualism." The Prince smiled gravely. "I do not pretend to encourage any man in anything, mon cher Abbé." "But you cannot believe in it!"
"It is absurd for you to disbelieve, for you know nothing about it, since you have never been willing to attend a séance." "I feel it is absurd, and that is enough." "I myself do not exactly believe in spirits," said Frontignan thoughtfully. "À la bonne heure! Of course not!" cried the Abbé. "You see, Prince, he is not quite mad after all!" The Prince said nothing.
The Duc de Frontignan, with whom he was dining on the evening this story opens, was or rather is in many ways a no less remarkable personage in Paris society. Possessing rank, birth, and a splendid income, he had inherited more than a fair share of the good gifts of Providence, being endowed not only with considerable mental power, but with the tact to use that power to the best advantage.
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