resents. These people
would have it jovial, smart, highly coloured, aiding them, in their base
selfishness, to forget the hag-ridden existences of their brothers.

"Truly, Carhaix and his wife are peculiar. They bow under the paternal
despotism of the priests--and there are moments when that same despotism
must be no joke--and revere them and adore them. But then these two are
simple believers, with humble, unsmirched souls. I don't know the priest
who was there, but he is rotund and rubicund, he shakes in his fat and
seems bursting with joy. Despite the example of Saint Francis of Assisi,
who was gay--spoiling him for me--I have difficulty in persuading myself
that this abbe is an elevated being. It's all right to say that the best
thing for him is to be mediocre; to ask how, if he were otherwise, he
would make his flock understand him; and add that if he really had
superior gifts he would be hated by his colleagues and persecuted by his
bishop."

While conversing thus disjointedly with himself Durtal had reached the
base of the tower. He stopped under the porch. "I intended to stay
longer up there," thought he. "It's only half-past five. I must kill at
least half an hour before dinner."

The weather was almost mild. The clouds had been swept away. He lighted
a cigarette and strolled about the square, musing. Looking up he hunted
for the bell-ringer's window and recognized it. Of the windows which
opened over the portico it alone had a curtain.

"What an abominable construction," he thought, contemplating the church.
"Think. That cube flanked by two towers presumes to invite comparison
with the facade of Notre Dame. What a jumble," he continued, examining
the details. "From the foundation to the first story are Ionic columns
with volutes, then from the base of the tower to the summit are
Corinthian columns with acanthus leaves. What significance can this
salmagundi of pagan orders have on a Christian church? And as a rebuke
to the over-ornamented bell tower there stands the other tower
unfinished, looking like an abandoned grain elevator, but the less
hideous of the two, at that.

"And it took five or six architects to erect this indigent heap of
stones. Yet Servandoni and Oppenord and their ilk were the real major
prophets, the ... zekiels of building. Their work is the work of seers
looking beyond the eighteenth century to the day of transportation by
steam. For Saint Sulpice is not a church, it's a railway stat