Love stories; Nobility -- Great Britain -- Fiction; Switzerland -- Fiction
“Say, my Godfrey,” she exclaimed in a rather doubtful voice,
“what is this that you have brought with you? Is it a scarecrow from
the fields? Or is it a speerit of your own? If so, I should have
thought that a young man would have liked better the lovely Eleanor
than this old devil.”
“Yes, Madame Jezebel,” said the Pasteur striding forward, speaking
in a loud, high voice and waving a large umbrella, which had come partly
unfolded in his hurried walk. “It is a scarecrow—one that scares
the crows of hell who seek to pick out the souls of the innocent, like
_you_, Madame Jezebel.”
Madame uttered a voluminous oath in some strange tongue, and sprang to
her feet with an agility surprising in one so stout.
“Say, who are you?” she ejaculated in French, confronting him.
“I am the Pasteur Boiset who accompany my ward to pay this little
call, Madame.”
“Oh! indeed. That thief of a clergyman, who got his finger into the
pie of dead Mademoiselle, eh? Well, there are no more pickings here,
Pasteur, but perhaps you come to have your fortune told. Shall I look
in the crystal for you and tell you nice things about—what shall we
say? About the past of that handsome Madame of yours, for instance? Oh!
I will do it for love, yes, for love. Or shall I make that mummy speak
for you? I can, for once I lived in that body of hers—it was a gay
life,” and she stopped, gasping.
“Hearken, woman,” said the Pasteur, “and do not think to
frighten me. I know all about my wife, and, if once she was foolish,
what of it in a world where none are altogether wise? If you do not
wish to visit the police cell, you will do well to leave her alone. As
for your tricks of chicanery, I want none of them. What I want is that
you take off the spell which you have laid upon this poor boy, as Satan
your master has given you the power to do. Now, obey me—or——”
“Or? Or what, you old paid advocate of God?”
“That is a good term. If I am an advocate, I know my Employer’s
mind, I, who have taken His fee, and am therefore in honour bound to
serve Him faithfully. Now I will tell you His mind about you. It is
that unless you change your ways and repent, soon you will go to hell.
Yes, quite soon, I think, for one so fat cannot be very strong in the
heart. Do what I bid you, Madame, or I, the advocate of God, having His
authority, will curse you in the Name of God, and in the ancient form
of which you may have heard.”
“Bah! would you frighten me, the great Madame Riennes who have spirits
at my command and who, as you admit, can lay on spells and take them
off. A flea for you and your God!”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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