“I was thinking of something, myself,” said Carhaix, who had been reflecting and not listening to this discussion of hypnotism.  “Of the Inquisition.  It certainly had its reason for being.  It is the only agent that could deal with this fallen priest whom the Church has swept out.”

“And remember,” said Des Hermies, with his crooked smile playing around the corner of his mouth, “that the ferocity of the Inquisition has been greatly exaggerated.  No doubt the benevolent Bodin speaks of driving long needles between the nails and the flesh of the sorcerers’ fingers.  ‘An excellent gehenna,’ says he.  He eulogizes equally the torture by fire, which he characterizes as ‘an exquisite death.’  But he wishes only to turn the magicians away from their detestable practises and save their souls.  Then Del Rio declares that ‘the question’ must not be applied to demoniacs after they have eaten, for fear they will vomit.  He worried about their stomachs, this worthy man.  Wasn’t it also he who decreed that the torture must not be repeated twice in the same day, so as to give fear and pain a chance to calm down?  Admit that the good Jesuit was not devoid of delicacy!”

“Docre,” Gevingey went on, not paying any attention to the words of Des Hermies, “is the only individual who has rediscovered the ancient secrets and who obtains results in practise.  He is rather more powerful, I would have you believe, than all those fools and quacks of whom we have been speaking.  And they know the terrible canon, for he has sent many of them serious attacks of ophthalmia which the oculists cannot cure.  So they tremble when the name Docre is pronounced in their presence.”

“But how did a priest fall so low?”

“I can’t say.  If you wish ampler information about him,” said Gevingey, addressing Des Hermies, “question your friend Chantelouve.”

“Chantelouve!” cried Durtal.

“Yes, he and his wife used to be quite intimate with Canon Docre, but I hope for their sakes that they have long since ceased to have dealings with the monster.”

Durtal listened no more.  Mme. Chantelouve knew Canon Docre!  Ah, was she Satanic, too?  No, she certainly did not act like a possessed.  “Surely this astrologer is cracked,” he thought.  She!  And he called her image before him, and thought that tomorrow night she would probably give herself to him.  Ah, those strange eyes of hers, those dark clouds suddenly cloven by radiant light!

She came now and took complete possession of him, as before he had ascended to the tower.  “But if I didn’t love you would I have come to you?” That sentence which she had spoken, with a caressing inflection of the voice, he heard again, and again he saw her mocking and tender face.

“Ah, you are dreaming,” said Des Hermies, tapping him on the shoulder.  “We have to go.  It’s striking ten.”

When they were in the street they said good night to Gevingey, who lived on the other side of the river.  Then they walked along a little way.