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Updated: June 7, 2025
"You're a great one," he said, bowing. "Now listen to me, and do me a great favour. You know Canon Docre?" "I should say!" "Well, what in the world is this man, about whom I hear so much?" "From whom?" "Gévingey and Des Hermies." "Ah, you consult the astrologer!
At one of these evening parties, while La Rousseil, recently converted, howled a hymn, Durtal, sitting in a corner having a quiet smoke, had been struck by the physiognomy and bearing of Des Hermies, who stood out sharply from the motley throng of defrocked priests and grubby poets packed into Chantelouve's library and drawing-room.
"I am glad to see that the method of ruining oneself in the Middle Ages did not differ sensibly from that of our days," said Des Hermies. "However, our ancestors did not have Monte Carlo, the notaries, and the Bourse." "And did have sorcery and alchemy. A memorial addressed to the king by the heirs of Gilles de Rais informs us that this immense fortune was squandered in less than eight years.
"'All my old ties are broken, he said, as he parted from me. He was so sad that I had not the heart to question him further." There was a silence. Carhaix went up to his tower to ring a peal. His wife removed the dessert dishes and the cloth. Des Hermies prepared the coffee. Durtal, pensive, rolled his cigarette.
Above them on a landing they could see feet, whether of a man or of a woman they could not tell. "Ah! it's you, M. des Hermies," and a woman bent over, describing an arc, so that her head was in a stream of light. "Louis will be very glad to see you." "Is he in?" asked Des Hermies, reaching up and shaking hands with the woman. "He is in the tower. Won't you stop and rest a minute?"
Once outside, Durtal took a long breath. Well, well, his unknown was Chantelouve's wife. Impossible! She had never paid the slightest attention to him. She was silent and cold. Impossible! And yet, why had she spoken that way to Des Hermies? But surely if she had wanted to see him she would have come to his apartment, since they were acquaintances.
You needed to escape into another epoch and get your bearings while waiting for a congenial subject to present itself. That explains your spiritual disarray of the last few months and your immediate recovery as soon as you stumbled onto Giles de Rais." Des Hermies had diagnosed him accurately.
"Near Châlons," said Durtal, digging in his memory, "it does seem to me now that Des Hermies, speaking of bewitchment by the blood of white mice, pointed out that village as the habitation of certain diabolic circles." "Yes, that country in all times has been a hotbed of Satanism." "You are mighty well up on these matters. Is it Docre who transmitted this knowledge to you?"
Then John, who has been held in reserve, as the Gospel says, will begin his ministry of love and will live in the souls of the new popes." "I don't understand the utility of a pope when Jesus is to be visible," said Des Hermies. "To tell the truth, there is no use in having one, and the papacy is to exist only during the epoch reserved for the effluence of the divine Paraclete.
"Another who loves this epoch about as well as Des Hermies and I do. But he has the tutelage of his bells, and certainly among his wards he has his favourite. He is not to be pitied. He has his hobby, which renders life possible for him, as hobbies do." "How is Gilles de Rais progressing?"
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