ity. You are incapable of
action."

"You misjudge me, Zita," replied the angel. "It is the nature of the
sons of heaven to love the daughters of men. Corruptible though it be,
the material part of women and of flowers charms the senses none the
less. But not one of these little animals can make me forget my hatred
and my love, and I am ready to rise up against Ialdabaoth."

Zita expressed her satisfaction at seeing him in this resolute mood. She
urged him to pursue the accomplishment of this vast undertaking with
undiminished ardour. Nothing must be hurried or deferred.

"A great action, Arcade, is made up of a multitude of small ones; the
most majestic whole is composed of a thousand minute details. Let us
neglect nothing."

She had come to take him to a meeting where his presence was required.
They were to take a census of the revolutionaries.

She added but one word:

"Nectaire will be there."

When Maurice saw Zita, he deemed her lacking in attraction. She failed
to please him because she was perfectly beautiful and because true
beauty always caused him painful surprise. Zita inspired him with
antipathy when he learned that she was an angel in revolt and that she
had come to seek Arcade to take him away among the conspirators.

The poor child tried to retain his companion by all the means that his
wit and the circumstances afforded him. If his guardian angel would only
remain with him, he would take him to a magnificent boxing-match, to a
"revue" where he would witness the apotheosis of Poincare, or, lastly,
to a certain house he knew of where he would behold women remarkable for
their beauty, talents, vices, or deformities. But the angel would not
allow himself to be tempted, and said he was going with Zita.

"What for?"

"To plot the conquest of the skies."

"Still the same nonsense! The conquest of---- but there, I proved to you
that it was neither possible nor desirable."

"Good night, Maurice."

"You are going? Well, I will accompany you."

And Maurice, his arm in a sling, went with Arcade and Zita all the way
to Clodomir's restaurant at Montmartre, where the tables were laid in an
arbour in the garden.

Prince Istar and Theophile were already there, with a little creature
who looked like a child, and was, in fact, a Japanese angel.

"We are only waiting for Nectaire," said Zita.

And at that moment the old gardener noiselessly appeared. He took his
seat, and his dog lay down at his feet.