“They do the elegant, easy work, which requires no effort, no charity.  They shrive society women who come to confession in their most stunning gowns; they teach proper little prigs the catechism, and preach, and play the limelight roles in the gala ceremonials which are got up to pander to the tastes of the faithful.  At Paris, not counting the scratch priests, the clergy is divided thus:  Man-of-the-world priests in easy circumstances:  these are placed at la Madeleine and Saint Roch where the congregations are wealthy.  They are wined and dined, they pass their lives in drawing-rooms, and comfort only elegant souls.  Other priests who are good desk clerks, for the most part, but who have neither the education nor the fortune necessary to participate in the inconsequentialities of the idle rich.  They live more in seclusion and visit only among the middle class.  They console themselves for their unfashionableness by playing cards with each other and uttering crude commonplaces at the table.”

“Now, Des Hermies,” said Carhaix, “you are going too far.  I claim to know the clerical world myself, and there are, even in Paris, honest men who do their duty.  They are covered with opprobrium and spat on.  Every Tom, Dick, and Harry accuses them of the foulest vices.  But after all, it must be said that the abbe Boudes and the Canon Docres are exceptions, thank God! and outside of Paris there are veritable saints, especially among the country clergy.”

“It’s a fact that Satanic priests are relatively rare, and the lecheries of the clergy and the knaveries of the episcopate are evidently exaggerated by an ignoble press.  But that isn’t what I have against them.  If only they were gamblers and libertines!  But they’re lukewarm, mediocre, lazy, imbeciles.  That is their sin against the Holy Ghost, the only sin which the All Merciful does not pardon.”

“They are of their time,” said Durtal.  “You wouldn’t expect to find the soul of the Middle Ages inculcated by the milk-and-water seminaries.”

“Then,” Carhaix observed, “our friend forgets that there are impeccable monastic orders, the Carthusians, for instance.”

“Yes, and the Trappists and the Franciscans.  But they are cloistered orders which live in shelter from an infamous century.  Take, on the other hand, the order of Saint Dominic, which exists for the fashionable world.  That is the order which produces jewelled dudes like Monsabre and Didon.  Enough said.”

“They are the hussars of religion, the jaunty lancers, the spick and span and primped-up Zouaves, while the good Capuchins are the humble poilus of the soul,” said Durtal.

“If only they loved bells,” sighed Carhaix, shaking his head.  “Well, pass the Coulommiers,” he said to his wife, who was taking up the salad bowl and the plates.

In silence they ate this Brie-type cheese.  Des Hermies filled the glasses.

“Tell me,” Durtal asked Des Hermies, “do you know whether a woman who receives visits from the incubi necessarily has a cold body?  In other words, is a cold body a presumable symptom of incubacy, as of old the inability to shed tears served the Inquisition as proof positive to convict witches?”