celebrant, completely given over to the demon of gluttony, fastens
upon the missal and devours its pages with the eagerness of his
over-excited appetite. Frantically he bows down, rises up, merely
indicates the sign of the cross and the genuflexions, and curtails all
his gestures in order to get sooner finished. Scarcely has he
stretched out his arms at the gospel, before he is striking his breast
at the _Confiteor_. It is a contest between himself and the clerk as
to who shall mumble the faster. Versicles and responses are hurried
over and run one into another. The words, half pronounced, without
opening the mouth, which would take up too much time, terminate in
unmeaning murmurs.

"_Oremus ps ... ps ... ps...._"

"_Mea culpa ... pa ... pa...._"

Like vintagers in a hurry pressing grapes in the vat, these two paddle
in the mass Latin, sending splashes in every direction.

"_Dom ... scum!..._" says Balaguere.

"_... Stutuo!..._" replies Garrigou; and all the time the cursed
little bell is tinkling there in their ears, like the jingles they put
on post-horses to make them gallop fast. You may imagine at that speed
a low mass is quickly disposed of.

"That makes two," says the chaplain quite panting; then without taking
time to breathe, red and perspiring, he descends the altar steps
and...

"Ting-a-ring!... Ting-a-ring!..."

Now the third mass is beginning. There are but a few more steps to be
taken to reach the dining-hall; but, alas! the nearer the midnight
repast approaches the more does the unfortunate Balaguere feel himself
possessed by mad impatience and gluttony. The vision becomes more
distinct; the golden carps, the roasted turkeys are there, there!...
He touches them, ... he ... oh heavens! The dishes are smoking, the
wines perfume the air; and with furiously agitated clapper, the little
bell is crying out to him:

"Quick, quick, quicker yet!"

But how could he go quicker? His lips scarcely move. He no longer
pronounces the words; ... unless he were to impose upon Heaven
outright and trick it out of its mass.... And that is precisely what
he does, the unfortunate man!... From temptation to temptation; he
begins by skipping a verse, then two. Then the epistle is too long--he
does not finish it, skims over the gospel, passes before the _Credo_
without going into it, skips the _Pater_, salutes the _Preface_ from a
distance, and by leaps and bounds thus hurls himself into eternal
damnation, constantl