This mistake, which no sixth-form boy would make, gave rise to bursts of laughter in the church; and Daniel Douin, the provost’s assessor, was constrained to say aloud— “There’s a devil for you, who does not know much about transitive verbs.” Barre perceiving the bad impression that the superior’s nominative had made, hastened to ask her— “Quis est iste quem adoras?” (Who is it whom thou dost adore?) His hope was that she would again reply “Jesus Christus,” but he was disappointed. “Jesu Christe,” was her answer. Renewed shouts of laughter greeted this infraction of one of the most elementary rules of syntax, and several of those present exclaimed: “Oh, your reverence, what very poor Latin!” Barre pretended not to hear, and next asked what was the name of the demon who had taken possession of her. The poor superior, who was greatly confused by the unexpected effect of her last two answers, could not speak for a long time; but at length with great trouble she brought out the name Asmodee, without daring to latinise it. The exorcist then inquired how many devils the superior had in her body, and to this question she replied quite fluently: “Sex” (Six). The bailiff upon this requested Barre to ask the chief devil how many evil spirits he had with him. But the need for this answer had been foreseen, and the nun unhesitatingly returned— “Quinque” (Five). This answer raised Asmodee somewhat in the opinion of those present; but when the bailiff adjured the superior to repeat in Greek what she had just said in Latin she made no reply, and on the adjuration being renewed she immediately recovered her senses. The examination of the superior being thus cut short, a little nun who appeared for the first time in public was brought forward. She began by twice pronouncing the name of Grandier with a loud laugh; then turning to the bystanders, called out— “For all your number, you can do nothing worth while.” As it was easy to see that nothing of importance was to be expected from this new patient, she was soon suppressed, and her place taken by the lay sister Claire who had already made her debut in the mother superior’s room. Hardly had she entered the choir than she uttered a groan, but as soon as they placed her on the little bed on which the other nuns had lain, she gave way to uncontrollable laughter, and cried out between the paroxysms— “Grandier, Grandier, you must buy some at the market.” Barre at once declared that these wild and whirling words were a proof of possession, and approached to exorcise the demon; but Sister Claire resisted, and pretending to spit in the face of the exorcist, put out her tongue at him, making indecent gestures, using a word in harmony with her actions. This word being in the vernacular was understood by everyone and required no interpretation. The exorcist then conjured her to give the name of the demon who was in her, and she replied— “Grandier.”