"

"Unhappy child!"

And Abbe Patouille's fat cheeks drooped in token of affliction. But almost
immediately they plumped up again, as a sign of light-heartedness. For in
his heart there was matter for rejoicing. Public opinion was improving.
The Jacobins, the Freemasons, the Coalitionists were everywhere in
disgrace. The Smart Set led the way. The Academie Francaise was of the
right way of thinking. The number of Christian schools was increasing by
leaps and bounds. The young men of the Quartier Latin were submitting to
the Church, and the Ecole Normale exhaled the perfume of the seminary. The
Cross was gaining the day; but money was wanted,--more money, always
money.

After six weeks' rest, Maurice was allowed by his doctor to take a
drive. He wore his arm in a sling. His mistress and his friend went
with him. They drove to the Bois, and took a gentle pleasure in looking
upon the grass and the trees. They smiled on everything and everything
smiled on them. As Arcade had said, their faults had made them better.
By the unlooked-for ways of jealousy and anger, Maurice had attained to
calm and kindliness. He still loved Gilberte and he loved her with an
indulgent love. The angel still desired her as much as ever, but having
once possessed her, his desire had lost the sting of curiosity. Gilberte
forbore trying to please, and thereby pleased the more. They drank milk
at the Cascade, and found it good. They were all three innocent. Arcade
forgot the injustice of the old tyrant of the world. But he was soon to
be reminded of it.

On entering his friend's house, he found Zita awaiting him, looking like
a statue in ivory and gold.

"You excite my pity," she said to him. "The day is at hand the like of
which has never dawned since the beginning of Time, and perhaps will
never dawn again before the Sun enters with all its train into the
constellation of Hercules. We are on the eve of surprising Ialdabaoth in
his palace of porphyry, and you, who are burning to deliver the heavens,
who were so eager to enter in triumph into your emancipated
country,--you suddenly forget your noble purpose and fall asleep in the
arms of the daughters of men. What pleasure can you find in intercourse
with these unclean little animals, composed, as they are, of elements so
unstable that they may be said to be in a state of constant evanescence?
O Arcade! I was indeed right to distrust you. You are but an
intellectual; you do but feel idle curios