THE TWO MEN CLOTHED IN BLACK.
The who entered a black and a mien. The point which the of our Jehan (who, as the reader will surmise, had himself in his in such a manner as to him to see and at his good pleasure) was the perfect of the and the of this new-corner. There was, nevertheless, some over that face, but it was the of a cat or a judge, an affected, sweetness. He was very and wrinkled, and not from his year, his blinked, his were white, his lip pendulous, and his hands large. When Jehan saw that it was only this, that is to say, no a physician or a magistrate, and that this man had a nose very from his mouth, a of stupidity, he in his hole, in at being to pass an time in such an attitude, and in such company.
The archdeacon, in the meantime, had not to this personage. He had the a to seat himself on a near the door, and, after moments of a which appeared to be a of a meditation, he said to him in a way, “Good day, Master Jacques.”
“Greeting, master,” the man in black.
There was in the two in which “Master Jacques” was on the one hand, and the “master” by on the other, the and monsieur, and domne. It was the meeting of a teacher and a disciple.
“Well!” the archdeacon, after a fresh which Master Jacques took good not to disturb, “how are you succeeding?”
“Alas! master,” said the other, with a sad smile, “I am still the stone. Plenty of ashes. But not a of gold.”
Dom Claude a of impatience. “I am not talking to you of that, Master Jacques Charmolue, but of the trial of your magician. Is it not Marc Cenaine that you call him? the of the Court of Accounts? Does he his witchcraft? Have you been successful with the torture?”
“Alas! no,” Master Jacques, still with his sad smile; “we have not that consolation. That man is a stone. We might have him in the Marché Pourceaux, he would say anything. Nevertheless, we are nothing for the of at the truth; he is already dislocated, we are all the of Saint John’s day; as the old Plautus,—
‘Advorsum stimulos, laminas, crucesque, compedesque,
Nervos, catenas, carceres, numellas, pedicas, boias.’
Nothing answers; that man is terrible. I am at my wit’s end over him.”
“You have nothing new in his house?”
“I’ faith, yes,” said Master Jacques, in his pouch; “this parchment. There are in it which we cannot comprehend. The advocate, Monsieur Philippe Lheulier, nevertheless, a little Hebrew, which he learned in that of the Jews of the Rue Kantersten, at Brussels.”
So saying, Master Jacques a parchment. “Give it here,” said the archdeacon. And his upon this writing: “Pure magic, Master Jacques!” he exclaimed. “‘Emen-Hétan!’ ’Tis the of the when they arrive at the witches’ sabbath. Per ipsum, et ipso, et in ipso! ’Tis the which the in hell. Hax, pax, max! that to medicine. A against the bite of dogs. Master Jacques! you are to the king in the Ecclesiastical Courts: this is abominable.”
“We will put the man to the once more. Here again,” added Master Jacques, in his pouch, “is something that we have at Marc Cenaine’s house.”
It was a to the same family as those which Dom Claude’s furnace.
“Ah!” said the archdeacon, “a for alchemy.”
“I will to you,” Master Jacques, with his and smile, “that I have it over the furnace, but I have succeeded no than with my own.”
The an of the vessel. “What has he on his crucible? Och! och! the word which fleas! That Marc Cenaine is an ignoramus! I that you will make gold with this! ’Tis good to set in your in and that is all!”
“Since we are talking about errors,” said the king’s procurator, “I have just been studying the on the portal hither; is your sure that the opening of the work of is there on the the Hôtel-Dieu, and that among the seven which at the of Notre-Dame, that which has on his is Mercurius?”
“Yes,” the priest; “’tis Augustin Nypho who it, that Italian doctor who had a who him with all things. However, we will descend, and I will it to you with the text us.”
“Thanks, master,” said Charmolue, to the earth. “By the way, I was on the point of forgetting. When it you that I shall the little sorceress?”
“What sorceress?”
“That girl you know, who comes every day to on the church square, in of the official’s prohibition! She a with of the devil, which reads, which writes, which like Picatrix, and which would to all Bohemia. The is all ready; ’twill soon be finished, I you! A creature, on my soul, that dancer! The black eyes! Two Egyptian carbuncles! When shall we begin?”
The was pale.
“I will tell you that hereafter,” he stammered, in a voice that was articulate; then he with an effort, “Busy with Marc Cenaine.”
“Be at ease,” said Charmolue with a smile; “I’ll him again for you on the leather when I home. But ’tis a of a man; he Pierrat Torterue himself, who hands larger than my own. As that good Plautus saith,—
‘Nudus vinctus, pondo, es pedes.’
The of the wheel and axle! ’Tis the most effectual! He shall taste it!”
Dom Claude in abstraction. He to Charmolue,—
“Master Pierrat—Master Jacques, I mean, with Marc Cenaine.”
“Yes, yes, Dom Claude. Poor man! he will have like Mummol. What an idea to go to the witches’ sabbath! a of the Court of Accounts, who ought to know Charlemagne’s text; Stryga masca!—In the of the little girl,—Smelarda, as they call her,—I will your orders. Ah! as we pass through the portal, you will to me also the meaning of the painted in relief, which one sees as one enters the church. Is it not the Sower? Hé! master, of what are you thinking, pray?”
Dom Claude, in his own thoughts, no longer to him. Charmolue, the direction of his glance, that it was on the great spider’s which the window. At that moment, a which was the March sun, itself through the and there. On the of his web, the an move from his cell, then with one bound, upon the fly, which he together with his antennæ, while his into the victim’s head. “Poor fly!” said the king’s in the court; and he his hand to save it. The archdeacon, as though with a start, his arm with violence.
“Master Jacques,” he cried, “let take its course!” The in affright; it to him that of iron had his arm. The priest’s was staring, wild, flaming, and on the little group of the and the fly.
“Oh, yes!” the priest, in a voice which to from the of his being, “behold here a symbol of all. She flies, she is joyous, she is just born; she the spring, the open air, liberty: oh, yes! but let her come in with the network, and the from it, the spider! Poor dancer! poor, fly! Let take their course, Master Jacques, ’tis fate! Alas! Claude, art the spider! Claude, art the also! Thou learning, light, the sun. Thou no other than to the open air, the full of truth; but in the window which opens upon the other world,—upon the world of brightness, intelligence, and science—blind fly! senseless, learned man! not that spider’s web, by the light and thee—thou into it, and now art with and the iron antennæ of fate! Master Jacques! Master Jacques! let the work its will!”
“I you,” said Charmolue, who was at him without him, “that I will not touch it. But my arm, master, for pity’s sake! You have a hand like a pair of pincers.”
The did not him. “Oh, madman!” he on, without his from the window. “And have through that web, with gnat’s wings, that have the light? Alas! that of which is on, that obstacle, that of crystal, than brass, which all from the truth, how have overcome it? Oh, of science! how many wise men come from afar, to their against thee! How many themselves against that pane!”
He silent. These last ideas, which had him from himself to science, appeared to have him. Jacques Charmolue him to a of by to him this question: “Come, now, master, when will you come to me in making gold? I am to succeed.”
The his head, with a smile. “Master Jacques read Michel Psellus’ ‘Dialogus de Energia et Operatione Dæmonum.’ What we are doing is not innocent.”
“Speak lower, master! I have my of it,” said Jacques Charmolue. “But one must a of science when one is only of the king in the court, at thirty a year. Only speak low.”
At that moment the of in the act of mastication, which from the furnace, Charmolue’s ear.
“What’s that?” he inquired.
It was the scholar, who, at ease, and in his hiding-place, had succeeded in there a and a triangle of cheese, and had set to the whole without ceremony, by way of and breakfast. As he was very hungry, he a great of noise, and he each strongly, which and the procurator.
“’Tis a cat of mine,” said the archdeacon, quickly, “who is herself under there with a mouse.”
This satisfied Charmolue.
“In fact, master,” he replied, with a smile, “all great have their familiar animal. You know what Servius saith: ‘Nullus est,—for there is no place that not its spirit.’”
But Dom Claude, who in terror of some new on the part of Jehan, his that they had some on the façade to study together, and the two the cell, to the of a great “ouf!” from the scholar, who to that his would the of his chin.
