“They would like to, but they don’t know how. They are limited to reproducing, mechanically, the few fluidic and veniniferous operations revealed to them by the three brahmins who visited Paris a few years ago.”
“I am thankful, myself,” said Mme. Carhaix, as she took leave of the company, “that I am not mixed up in any of this frightful business, and that I can pray and live in peace.”
Then while Des Hermies, as usual, prepared the coffee and Durtal brought the liqueur glasses, Gévingey filled his pipe, and when the sound of the bells died away—dispersed and as if absorbed by the pores of the wall—he blew out a great cloud of smoke and said, “I passed some delightful days with the family with whom Dr. Johannès is living. After the shocks which I had received, it was a privilege without equal to complete my convalescence in that sweet atmosphere of Christian Love. And, too, Johannès is of all men I have ever met the most learned in the occult sciences. No one, except his antithesis, the abominable Docre, has penetrated so far into the arcana of Satanism. One may even say that in France these two are the only ones who have crossed the terrestrial threshold and obtained, each in his field, sure results. But in addition to the charm of his conversation and the scope of his knowledge—for even on the subject in which I excel, that of astrology, he surprised me—Johannès delighted me with the beauty of his vision of the future transformation of peoples. He is really, I swear, the prophet whose earthly mission of suffering and glory has been authorized by the Most High.”
“I don’t doubt it,” said Durtal, smiling, “but his theory of the Paraclete is, if I am not mistaken, the very ancient heresy of Montanus which the Church has formally condemned.”
“All depends on the manner in which the coming of the Paraclete is conceived,” interjected the bell-ringer, returning at that moment. “It is also the orthodox doctrine of Saint Irenæus, Saint Justin, Scotus Erigena, Amaury of Chartres, Saint Doucine, and that admirable mystic, Joachim of Floris. This was the belief throughout the Middle Ages, and I admit that it obsesses me and fills me with joy, that it responds to the most ardent of my yearnings. Indeed,” he said, sitting down and crossing his legs, “if the third kingdom is an illusion, what consolation is left for Christians in face of the general disintegration of a world which charity requires us not to hate?”
“I am furthermore obliged to admit,” said Des Hermies, “that in spite of the blood shed on Golgotha, I personally feel as if my ransom had not been quite effected.”
“There are three kingdoms,” the astrologer resumed, pressing down the ashes of his pipe with his finger. “Of the Old Testament, that of the Father, the kingdom of fear. Of the New Testament, that of the Son, the kingdom of expiation. Of the Johannite Gospel, that of the Holy Ghost, the kingdom of redemption and love. They are the past, present and future; winter, spring and summer. The first, says Joachim of Floris, gives us the blade, the second, the leaf, and the third, the ear. Two of the Persons of the Trinity have shown themselves. Logically the Third must appear.”
“Yes, and the Biblical texts abound, conclusive, explicit, irrefutable,” said Carhaix. “All the prophets, Isaiah, Ezekiel, Daniel, Zachariah, Malachi, speak of it. The Acts of the Apostles is very precise on this point. In the first chapter you will read these lines, ‘This same Jesus, which is taken up from you into heaven shall so come in like manner as ye have seen him go into heaven.’ Saint John also announces the tidings in the Apocalypse, which is the gospel of the second coming of Christ, ‘Christ shall come and reign a thousand years.’ Saint Paul is inexhaustible in revelations of this nature. In the epistle to Timothy he invokes the Lord ‘who shall judge the quick and the dead at his appearance and his kingdom.’ In the second epistle to the Thessalonians he writes, ‘And then shall that Wicked be revealed, whom the Lord shall consume with the Spirit of his mouth, and shall destroy with the brightness of his coming.’ Now, he declares that the Antichrist is not yet, so the coming which he prophesies is not that already realized by the birth of the Saviour at Bethlehem. In the Gospel according to Saint Matthew, Jesus responds to Caiaphas, who asks Him if He is the Christ, Son of God, ‘Thou hast said, and nevertheless I say unto you, Hereafter shall ye see the Son of man sitting on the right hand of power and coming in the clouds of heaven.’ And in another verse He says to His apostles, ‘Watch, therefore, for ye know not what hour your Lord doth come.’
“And there are other texts I could put my finger on. No, there is no use in talking, the partisans of the glorious kingdom are supported with certitude by inspired passages, and can, under certain conditions and without fear of heresy, uphold this doctrine, which, Saint Jerome attests, was in the fourth century a dogma of faith recognized by all. But what say we taste a bit of this crême de céléri which Monsieur Durtal praises so highly?”
It was a thick liqueur, syrupy like anisette, but even sweeter and more feminine, only, when one had swallowed this inert semiliquid, there lingered in the roots of the papillæ a faint taste of celery.
“It isn’t bad,” said the astrologer, “but there’s no life to it,” and he poured into his glass a stiff tot of rum.
“Come to think of it,” said Durtal, “the third kingdom is also announced in the words of the Paternoster, ‘Thy kingdom come.’ ”
“Certainly,” said the bell-ringer.
“But you see,” interjected Gévingey, “heresy would gain the upper hand and the whole belief would be turned into nonsense and absurdity if we admitted, as certain Paracletists
