It was, however, indeed a sight to see my uncle when he had a Freemason
to dinner.
On meeting they shook hands in a manner that was irresistibly funny; one
could see that they were going through a series of secret, mysterious
signs.
Then my uncle would take his friend into a corner to tell him something
important, and at dinner they had a peculiar way of looking at each
other, and of drinking to each other, in a manner as if to say: “We know
all about it, don't we?”
And to think that there are millions on the face of the globe who are
amused at such monkey tricks! I would sooner be a Jesuit.
Now, in our town there really was an old Jesuit who was my uncle's
detestation. Every time he met him, or if he only saw him at a distance,
he used to say: “Get away, you toad.” And then, taking my arm, he would
whisper to me:
“See here, that fellow will play me a trick some day or other, I feel
sure of it.”
My uncle spoke quite truly, and this was how it happened, and through my
fault.
It was close on Holy Week, and my uncle made up his mind to give a
dinner on Good Friday, a real dinner, with his favorite chitterlings and
black puddings. I resisted as much as I could, and said:
“I shall eat meat on that day, but at home, quite by myself. Your
manifestation, as you call it, is an idiotic idea. Why should you
manifest? What does it matter to you if people do not eat any meat?”
But my uncle would not be persuaded. He asked three of his friends to
dine with him at one of the best restaurants in the town, and as he
was going to pay the bill I had certainly, after all, no scruples about
manifesting.
At four o'clock we took a conspicuous place in the most frequented
restaurant in the town, and my uncle ordered dinner in a loud voice for
six o'clock.
We sat down punctually, and at ten o'clock we had not yet finished.
Five of us had drunk eighteen bottles of choice, still wine and four of
champagne. Then my uncle proposed what he was in the habit of calling
“the archbishop's circuit.” Each man put six small glasses in front of
him, each of them filled with a different liqueur, and they had all
to be emptied at one gulp, one after another, while one of the waiters
counted twenty. It was very stupid, but my uncle thought it was very
suitable to the occasion.
At eleven o'clock he was as drunk as a fly. So we had to take him home
in a cab and put him to bed, and one could easily foresee that his
anti-clerical demonstration would end in a terrible fit of indigestion.
As I was going back to my lodgings, being rather drunk myself, with a
cheerful drunkenness, a Machiavellian idea struck me which satisfied all
my sceptical instincts.
I arranged my necktie, put on a look of great distress, and went and,
rang loudly at the old Jesuit's door. As he was deaf he made me wait a
longish while, but at length appeared at his window in a cotton nightcap
and asked what I wanted.