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Once below, after Carhaix had closed the door of his tower, they hastened their steps, for the north wind swept the square. "After all," said Des Hermies, "Satanism aside and yet Satanism also is a phase of religion admit that, for two miscreants of our sort, we hold singularly pious conversations. I hope they will be counted in our favour up above."
He gave the bell stirrup a last yank with his foot and with a heave of his loins regained his equilibrium. He mopped his brow and smiled down at Des Hermies. "Well! well!" he said, "you here." He descended, and when he learned Durtal's name his face brightened and the two shook hands cordially. "We have been expecting you a long time, monsieur.
"If he is not sent to jail, there will be one more priest for Paris," said Des Hermies. "How's that?" "Why, all the ecclesiastics who get in bad in the provinces, or who have a serious falling out with the bishop, are sent here where they will be less in view, lost in the crowd, as it were. They form a part of that corporation known as 'scratch priests." "What are they?"
They sort of belong to the family, and they will certainly be glad to intercede for people who revere them and their emblems." "It would take a stunning miracle to convince Durtal," said Des Hermies. "Bells have been known to perform them," said the astrologer. "I remember to have read, though I forget where, that angels tolled the knell when Saint Isidro of Madrid was dying."
"Well, pass the Coulommiers," he said to his wife, who was taking up the salad bowl and the plates. In silence they ate this Brie-type cheese. Des Hermies filled the glasses. "Tell me," Durtal asked Des Hermies, "do you know whether a woman who receives visits from the incubi necessarily has a cold body?
As his cult grew he began to celebrate travestied offices in which he distributed to his congregation aphrodisiac pills presenting this peculiarity, that after having swallowed them the men believed themselves changed into women and the women into men. "The recipe for these hippomanes is lost," continued Des Hermies with almost a sad smile.
We might drag out our relation, but it would finally terminate in recrimination and bitterness. Oh, and then after what happened this evening, no! Understand me? No!" And he gave the cabman his address and huddled himself into the furthest corner of the fiacre. "He doesn't lead a humdrum life, that canon!" said Des Hermies, when Durtal had related to him the details of the Black Mass.
It's merely by chance that Mme. Chantelouve spoke of my books to Des Hermies, and I mustn't jump to the conclusion that she is smitten with me and that she has been writing me these hot letters. It isn't she, but who on earth is it?" He continued to revolve the question, without coming any nearer a solution.
His beard, which had not been shaved for several days, grew in grey clumps on his hollow cheeks, but his poor features were radiant with an affectionate, affable smile. To Durtal's questions he replied, "It is nothing. Des Hermies gives me permission to get up tomorrow. But what a frightful medicine!" and he showed Durtal a potion of which he had to take a teaspoonful every hour.
He let out the fact that he was to witness the ceremony and, confronted by Des Hermies's stare of stupefaction, he added that he had promised secrecy and that he could not, for the present, tell him more. "You're the lucky one!" said Des Hermies. "Is it too much to ask you the name of the abbé who is to officiate?" "Not at all. Canon Docre." "Ah!" and the other was silent.
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