It
is some whimsy. They say that women are more curious about the
devil than about St. Jean Baptiste. Perhaps she got of him a
magic book."
"No, no! If he had the magic Petit Albert, he would have turned
us into dogs long ago. But I do not like him. He is but thirty
years, they say, and yet his hair is white as a pigeon's wing. It
is not natural. Nor did he ever, says Gabord, do aught but laugh at
everything they did to him. The chains they put would not stay,
and when he was set against the wall to be shot, the watches
stopped--the minute of his shooting passed. Then M'sieu' Doltaire
came, and said a man that could do a trick like that should live
to do another. And he did it, for M'sieu' Doltaire is gone to
the Bastile. Voyez, this Englishman is a damned heretic, and has
the wicked arts."
"But see, Bamboir, do you think he can cast spells?"
"What mean those sounds from his room?"
"So, so. But if he be a friend of the devil, La Jongleuse would
not come for him, but--"
Startled and excited, they grasped each other's arms. "But for
us--for us!"
"It would be a work of God to send him to the devil," said Bamboir
in a loud whisper.
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