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Updated: June 7, 2025
And in answer he cited himself the melancholy glose of Canon Maximianus, who, in his Distinction 81, sighs, "It is commonly said that none ought to be deposed from his charge for fornication, in view of the fact that few can be found exempt from this vice." "Why! You here?" said Des Hermies, entering. "What are you reading? The anatomy of the mass? Oh, it's a poor thing, for Protestants.
"What do you think of him?" Des Hermies asked Durtal in a very low voice, and pointed at the astrologer, now lost in a cloud of pipe smoke. "In repose he looks like an old owl, and when he speaks he makes me think of a melancholy and discursive schoolmaster." "Only one," said Des Hermies to Carhaix, who was holding a lump of sugar over Des Hermies's coffee cup.
When they had left Gévingey, Des Hermies, after walking in silence for some time, said, "You are not astonished that all the events spoken of tonight happened at Lyons." And as Durtal looked at him inquiringly, he continued, "You see I am well acquainted with Lyons. People's brains there are as foggy as the streets when the morning mists roll up from the Rhone.
The tanks went away through the breach they had made, with the infantry swarming round them, and captured Havrincourt, Hermies, Ribecourt, Gouzeaucourt, Masnieres, and Marcoing, and a wide stretch of country forming a cup or amphitheater below a series of low ridges south of Bourlon Wood, where the ground rose again.
Astonished at once by Durtal's languor and the ascetic tone of his remarks, Des Hermies exclaimed, "Ah, we had a gay old time last night?" With the most decisive bad grace Durtal shook his head. "Then," replied Des Hermies, "you are superior and inhuman. To love without hope, immaculately, would be perfect if it did not induct such brainstorms.
The bell-ringer lighted a little briar pipe, while Des Hermies and Durtal each rolled a cigarette. "Pretty comfortable place," remarked Durtal, just to be saying something. It was a vast room, vaulted, with walls of rough stone, and lighted by a semi-circular window just under the ceiling.
And again, as so often when he had found himself before this unbridgeable gulf between reason and belief, he recoiled from the leap. Well, his thoughts had strayed far from the subject of that naturalism so reviled by Des Hermies. He returned to Grünewald and said to himself that the great Crucifixion was the masterpiece of an art driven out of bounds.
Ah, monsieur!" and there was fire in Carhaix's mild eyes, "that is the skull of an old, old bell whose like is not cast these days. The ring of that bell, monsieur, was like a voice from heaven." And suddenly he exploded, "Bells have had their day! As I suppose Des Hermies has told you. Bell ringing is a lost art. And why wouldn't it be? Look at the men who are doing it nowadays.
"The Bishop and Vice Inquisitor declare him in contempt and pronounce against him the sentence of excommunication, which is soon made public. They decide in addition that the hearing shall be continued next day " A ring of the doorbell interrupted Durtal's perusal of his notes. Des Hermies entered. "I have just seen Carhaix. He is ill," he said. "That so? What seems to be the matter?"
Lastly, I am afraid of being wearied by solitude; I am not much amused here as it is, but at La Trappe I shall no longer have those vacillations at every minute, those constant fears; I shall at least have the advantage of having my time to myself; and then ... and then ... how well I know solitude. Have I not lived apart since the deaths of des Hermies and Carhaix? Indeed, whom do I see?
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