As the sound of the bells died away, the last drop of water fell from
the clepsydra and marked the hour of midnight. Then the furnace opened
and showed the glowing crucible, which burst with a terrible noise, and
threw out a gigantic flame that reached the sky through the torn roof.
Sylvestre Ker, enveloped by the fire, fell prostrate on the ground,
suffocated in the burning smoke.
The silence of death followed. Suddenly an awful voice said to him:
"Arise." And he arose.
On the spot where had stood the furnace, of which not a vestige
remained, was standing a man, or rather a colossus; and Sylvestre Ker
needed but a glance to recognize in him the demon. His body appeared to
be of iron, red-hot and transparent; for in his veins could be seen the
liquid gold, flowing into, and then retreating from, his heart, black as
an extinguished coal.
The creature, who was both fearful and beautiful to behold, extended his
hand towards the side of the tower nearest the sea, and in the thick
wall a large breach was made.
"Look!" said Satan.
Sylvestre Ker obeyed. He saw, as though distance were annihilated, the
interior of the humble church of Plouharnel where the faithful We
assembled. The officiating priest had just ascended the altar, brilliant
with the Christmas candles, and there was great pomp and splendor; for
the many monks of Gildas the Wise were assisting the poor clergy of the
parish.
In a corner, under the shadow of a column knelt Dame Josserande in
fervent prayer, but often did the dear woman turn towards the door to
watch for the coming of her son.
Not far from her was Matheline du Coat-Dor, bravely attired and very
beautiful, but lavishing the pearls of her smiles upon all who sought
them, forgetting no one but God; and, close to Matheline, Pol Bihan
squared his broad shoulders. Then, even as Satan had given to Sylvestre
Ker's sight the power of piercing the walls, so did he permit him to
look into the depth of hearts. In his mother's heart he saw himself as
in a mirror. It was full of him. Good Josserande prayed for him; she
prayed to Jesus, whose feast is Christmas, in the pious prayer which
fell from her lips; and ever and ever said her heart to God: "My son, my
son, my son!"
In the heart of Pol, Sylvestre Ker saw pride of strength and gross
cupidity; in the spot where should have been the heart of Matheline, he
saw Matheline, and nothing but Matheline, in adoration before Matheline.
"I have seen enough," said Sylvestre Ker.
"Then," replied Satan, "listen!" And immediately the sacred music
resounded in the ears of the young tenant of the tower as plainly as
though he was in the church of Plouharnel. They were singing the
Sanctus: "Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of Hosts! The heavens and the earth
are full of Thy glory. Hosanna in the highest! Blessed is He that cometh
in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest!"
Dame Josserande repeated the words with the others, but the refrain of
her heart continued: "O Jesus, Infinite Goodness! may he be happy.
Deliver him from all evil, from all sin. I have only him to love....
Holy, holy, holy, give me all the suffering and keep for him all the
happiness!"
Can you believe it? Even while piously inhaling the perfume of this
celestial hymn, the young tenant wished to know what Matheline was
saying to God. Everything speaks to God,--the wild beasts in the forest,
the birds in the air, even the plants, whose roots are in the ground.
But miserable girls who sell the pearls of their smiles are lower than
the animals and vegetables. Nothing is beneath them,--Pol Bihan
excepted. Instead of speaking to God, Pol Bihan and Matheline whispered
together, and Sylvestre Ker heard them as distinctly as if he had been
between them.
"How much will the fool give?" asked Matheline.
"The idiot will give you all," replied Pol.
"And must I really squint with that one-eyed creature, and limp with the
lame wretch?"
Sylvestre Ker felt his heart die away within him.
Meanwhile, Josserande prayed earnestly for Sylvestre Ker.
"Never mind," continued Bihan; "it is worth while limping and squinting
for a time to win all the money in the world."
"That is true; but for how long?"
Sylvestre Ker held his breath to hear the better.
"As long as you please," answered Pol Bihan.
There was a pause, after which the gay Matheline resumed in a lower
tone,--
"But ... they say after a murder one can never laugh, and I wish to
laugh always...."
"Will I not be there?" replied Bihan. "Some time or other the idiot will
certainly seek a quarrel with me, and I will crack his bones by only
squeezing him in my arms; you can count upon my strength."
"I have heard enough," said Sylvestre Ker to Satan.
"And do you still love this Bihan?"
"No: I despise him."
"And Matheline,--do you love her yet?"
"Yes, oh! yes!... but ... I hate her!"
"I see," said Satan, "that you are a coward, and wicked like all men.
Since you have heard and seen enough at a distance, listen, and look at
your feet...."
The wall closed with a loud crash of the stones as they came together,
and Sylvestre Ker saw that he was surrounded by an enormous heap of
gold-pieces, as high as his waist, which gently floated, singing the
symphony of riches. All around him was gold, and through the gap in the
roof the shower of gold fell, and fell, and fell.
"Am I the master of all this?" asked Sylvestre Ker.
"Yes," replied Satan; "you have compelled me, who am gold, to come forth
from my caverns; you are therefore the master of gold, provided you
purchase it at the price of your soul. You cannot have both God and
gold. You must choose one or the other."
"I have chosen," said Sylvestre Ker. "I keep my soul."
"You have firmly decided?"
"Irrevocably."
"Once, twice, ... reflect! You have just acknowledged that you still love
the laughing Matheline."
"And that I hate her.... Yes, ... it is so.... But in eternity I wish
to be with my dear mother, Josserande."
"Were there no mothers," growled Satan, "I could play my game much
better in the world!"