The Queen Pedauque by Anatole France

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Hardly had my tutor said these last words when a shadow arose
between him and myself. It was that of M. d'Asterac, or rather it
was M. d'Asterac himself, thin and black like a shadow.

It may be that he had not heard that talk, maybe he disdained it,
for certainly he did not show any kind of resentment. On the
contrary, he congratulated M. Jerome Coignard on his zeal and
knowledge, and further said that he relied on his enlightenment for
the achievement of the greatest work that man had ever attempted.
And turning to me he said:

"Be so good as to come for a moment to my study, where I intend to
make known to you a secret of consequence."

I went with him to the same room where he had first received us, my
tutor and myself, on the day we entered his service. I found there,
exactly as on that occasion, ranged along the walls, the ancient
Egyptians with golden faces. A glass globe of the size of a pumpkin
stood on a table. M. d'Asterac sank on a sofa, and signed to me to
take a seat near him, and having twice or thrice passed a hand
covered with jewels and amulets across his forehead said:

"My son, I do not wish to injure you by believing that, after our
conversation on the Isle of Swans, you still doubt of the existence
of Sylphs and Salamanders, who are as real as men and perhaps more
so, if one measures reality by the duration of the appearances by
which it is displayed, their existence being very much longer than
ours. Salamanders range from century to century in unalterable
youth; some of them have seen Noah, Moses and Pythagoras. The wealth
of their recollections and the freshness of their memory render
their conversation attractive to the utmost. It has been pretended
that they gain immortality in the arms of men, and that the hope of
never dying led them into the beds of the philosophers, But those
are fables unfit to seduce a reflecting mind. All union of sexes,
far from ensuring immortality to lovers, is a sign of death, and we
could not know love were we to live indefinitely. It could not be
otherwise with the Salamanders, who look in the arms of the wise for
nothing else but for one single kind of immortality--that is, of the
race. It is also the only one which can be reasonably expected. And,
much as I promise myself to prolong human life in a notable manner--
that is, to extend it over at least five or six centuries--I have
never flattered myself to assure it perpetuity. It would be insane
to want to go against the established rules of nature, Therefore, my
son, reject as a vain fable the idea of immortality to be sucked in
with a kiss. It is to the shame of more than one of the cabalists to
have ever conceived such an idea. But for all that it is quite
evident that Salamanders are inclined to man's love. You'll soon
experience it yourself. I have sufficiently prepared you for a visit
from them, and as, since the night of your initiation, you have not
had any impure intercourse with a woman you will obtain the reward
of your continency."

My natural candidness suffered by receiving praise which I had
merited against my own will, and I wished to confess to M. d'Asterac
my guilty thoughts. But he did not give me time to do so, and
continued with vivacity:

"Nothing now remains for me, my son, but to give you the key which
opens the empire of the genii. That is what I am going to do at
once."

Rising he put a hand on the globe which covered one half of the
table.

"This globe," he said, "is full of a solar powder which escapes
being visible to you by its own purity. It is much too delicate to
be seen by means of the coarse senses of men. So comes it, my son,
that the finest parts of the universe are concealed from our sight
and reveal themselves only to the learned, provided with apparatus
proper for this discovery. The rivers and the aerial landscapes, for
example, remain invisible, even as their aspect is a thousand times
richer and more variegated than the most beautiful terrestrial
landscape.

"Know, then, that in this bowl is a solar powder superlatively
proper to exalt the fire we have within us. The effect of this
exaltation is imminent. It consists of a subtlety of the senses
allowing us to see and touch the aerial figures floating around us.
As soon as you have broken the seal which locks the aperture of this
globe, and inhaled the escaping solar powder, you will in this room
discover one or more creatures resembling women by the system of
curved outlines forming their bodies, but much more beautiful than
was ever any woman, and who are in fact Salamanders. No doubt the
one I saw last year in your father's cookshop will be the first one
to appear here to you, as she has a liking for you, and I strongly
counsel you to hasten to comply with her wishes. And now make
yourself easy in that arm-chair, open the globe, and gently inhale
the contents. Very soon you will see all I have announced to you
realised, point by point. I leave you. Good-bye."

And he disappeared in a manner which was strangely sudden. I
remained alone before that glass globe, hesitating to unlock it,
afraid lest some stupefying exhalation should escape from it. I
thought that perhaps M. d'Asterac had put in it, as an artifice,
some of those vapours which benumb those who inhale them and make
them dream of Salamanders. I was still not enough of a philosopher
to be desirous of becoming happy by such means. Possibly, I said to
myself, such vapours predispose to madness; and finally I became
defiant enough to think of going to the library to ask advice of M.
Jerome Coignard. But I soon became aware that such would be a
needless trouble; as soon as I began to speak to him of solar powder
and aerial genii he would start: "Jacques Tournebroche, remember, my
boy, that you must never put faith in absurdities, but bring home to
your reason all matters except those of our holy religion. Stuff and
nonsense all these globes and powders, with all the other follies of
the cabala and the spagyric art."

I imagined I could hear him talk like that in the interval between
two pinches of snuff, and I really did not know what to reply to
such a Christian speech. On the other hand, I thought in advance how
puzzled I should be to reply to M. d'Asterac when he inquired of me
after news of the Salamander. What could I say? How was I to avow my
reserve and my abstention without betraying my defiance and fear?
And after all, without being aware of it, I was curious to try the
adventure. I am not credulous. On the contrary I am marvellously
inclined to doubt, and by this inclination to brave common-sense, as
well as evidence and everything else. Of the strangest things that
may be told me, I say to myself, "Why not?" This "Why not?" wronged
my natural intelligence in sight of that globe. This "Why not?"
pushed me towards credulity, and it may be interesting to remark, on
this occasion, to believe in nothing means to believe in everything,
and that the mind is not to be kept too free and too vacant, for
fear that commodities of extravagant form and weight should enter by
a loophole, commodities of a kind which could not find room in minds
reasonably and tolerably well furnished with belief. And while, with
my hand on the wax seal, I remembered what my mother had narrated to
me of the magic bottle, my "Why not?" whispered to me that perhaps,
after all, aerial fairies may be visible through the dust of the
sun. But as soon as this idea, having entered into my mind, began to
become easy therein, I found it to be odd, absurd and grotesque.
Ideas, when they impose themselves, very soon become impudent. But
few are apt to be better than pleasant passers-by; and, decidedly,
this very one had somehow an air of madness. During the time I asked
myself, "Shall I open it?" "Shall I not?" the seal, which I had held
continuously between my pressing fingers, broke suddenly in my hand,
and the flagon was open.

I waited, I observed, I saw nothing, I felt nothing. And I was
disappointed, so much the hope of stepping out of nature is prone
and ready to glide into our souls! Nothing! Not even a vague or
confused illusion, an uncertain image! What I had foreseen occurred.
What a deception! I felt somewhat vexed. Reclined in my arm-chair I
vowed to myself, before all the black-haired Egyptians surrounding
me, to close my soul better in the future to the lies of the
cabalists; and once more recognised my dear teacher's wisdom and
resolved, like him, to be guided by reason in all matters not
connected with faith, Christian and Catholic. Expecting the visit of
a lady Salamander, what silliness! Is it possible that Salamanders
exist? But what is known about it, and "Why not?"

Since noon the air was heavy, now it became stifling. Rendered
torpid by long days of quietness and seclusion, I felt a weight on
my forehead and eyes. The approach of a thunderstorm lay heavy on
me. I let my arms hang down, and, with head thrown back, and eyes
closed, I glided into a doze full of golden Egyptians and lustful
shadows. In this uncertain state the sense of love alone was alive
in my body, like a fire in the night. How long it had lasted I could
not say, when I was awakened by a sound of light steps and the
rustling of a dress. I opened my eyes and gave a great shout.

A marvellous creature stood before me, clad in black satin, a lace
veil on her head--a dark woman with blue eyes, of resolute features
in a juvenile and pure skin, round cheeks and the mouth animated as
by an invisible kiss. The short skirt let little feet be seen,
dancing, jolly, spirited feet. She held herself upright, but was
round, somewhat thick-set, in her voluptuous perfection. Under the
black velvet ribbon round her throat a little square of her bosom
was visible, brown, but dazzling. She looked on me with an air of
curiosity. I have said already how sleep had rendered me amorous. I
rose quickly, and stepped forward.

"Excuse me," she said, "I am looking for M. d'Asterac."

I said to her:

"Madam, there is no M. d'Asterac. There is you and I. I expected
you. You are a Salamander. I have opened the crystal flagon. You
have come. You are mine."

I took her in my arms and covered with kisses all places my lips
could find uncovered by her dress.

She tore herself away and said:

"You are mad."

"That is quite natural," I replied. "Who in my place could remain
sane?"

She lowered her eyes, blushed, and smiled. I fell at her feet.

"As M. d'Asterac is not here," she said, "I had better retire."

"Remain!" I cried, and bolted the door.

"Do you know if he will soon be back?"

"No, madam! He will not return for a long time. He left me alone
with the Salamanders. But I want one only, and that one is you."

I lifted her in my arms, carried her to the sofa, fell down on it
with her, and smothered her with kisses. I was out of my senses. She
screamed, I did not hear her; she pushed me back with outstretched
hands; her fingernails scratched me all over, and her vain defence
only excited my frenzy. I pressed, enlaced her, she fell back worn
out. Her mollified body gave way, she closed her eyes and soon, in
my triumph, her beautiful arms, reconciled, pressed me on her bosom.

Released, alas! from that delicious embrace, we looked at one
another with surprise. Occupied to get up again decently she put her
dress in order and remained silent.

"I love you," I said. "What is your name?"

I did not think her to be a Salamander, and to say the truth never
did think so.

"My name is Jahel," she said.

"What! you're the niece of Mosaide?"

"Yes; but keep quiet. If he should know--"

"What would he do?"

"Oh! nothing to me--nothing. But to you the worst. He dislikes
Christians."

"And you?"

"Oh! I? I dislike the Jews."

"Jahel, do you love me a little?"

"It seems to me, sir, that after what we have just now said to one
another, your question is an offence."

"True, mademoiselle, but I try to obtain forgiveness for a vivacity,
an ardour, which did not take the leisure to consult your
sentiments."

"Oh! monsieur, do not make yourself out to be more guilty than you
really are. All your violence, and all your passion, would not have
served you at all, had I not found you lovable. When I saw you
sleeping in that arm-chair, I liked your looks, waited for your
awakening--the rest you know."

As reply I gave her a kiss, she gave it me back, what a kiss! I
fancied fresh-gathered strawberries melting in my mouth. My desire
revived and passionately I pressed her on my heart.

"This time," she said, "be less hasty, and do not think only of
yourself. You must not be selfish in love. Young men do not
sufficiently know that. But we teach them."

And we immersed ourselves in an unfathomable depth of deliciousness.

After that the divine Jahel asked of me:

"Have you a comb? I look like a witch."

"Jahel," I answered, "I have no comb. I had expected a Salamander. I
adore you."

"Adore me, dearest, but remain secret. You do not know Mosaide."

"What, Jahel. Is he still so terrible as that, at the age of one
hundred and thirty years, of which he has lived sixty-five inside a
pyramid?"

"I see, my friend, that stories of my uncle have been told you and
that you were simple enough to believe them. Nobody knows his age; I
myself am ignorant of it, but I have always known him as an old man.
I know only that he is robust and of uncommon strength. He has been
a banker at Lisbon, where he killed a Christian he surprised in the
arms of my Aunt Myriam. He took to flight, and carried me with him.
Since then he loves me with the tenderness of a mother. He tells me
things that are told to little children only, and he cries when he
sees me asleep."

"Do you live with him?"

"Yes, in the keeper's lodge, at the other end of the park."

"I know; you reach it by the lane where mandrakes are to be found.
How is it that I did not meet you before? By what sinister destiny,
living so near you, have I lived without seeing you? But what do I
say, lived? Is it to live without knowing you? Are you shut up in
yonder lodge?"

"It is true I am somewhat of a recluse, and cannot go for walks as I
wish, to the shops, to theatres. Mosaide's tenderness does not leave
me any liberty. He guards me jealously, and, besides six small gold
cups he brought with him from Lisbon, he loves but me on earth. As
he is much more attached to me than he was to my Aunt Myriam, he
would kill you, dear, with a better heart than he killed the
Portuguese. I warn you so, to impress the necessity of discretion on
you, and because it is not a consideration which could stop a brave
gentleman. Are you of a good family, my friend?"

"Alas! no; my father applies himself to a mechanic art, and has a
sort of trade."

"And he is not of any of the professions? Does not belong to the
banking world? No? It is a pity. Well. you're to be loved for
yourself. But speak the truth. Is M. d'Asterac to be back shortly?"

At this name and question a terrible doubt came in my mind. I
suspected the enchanting Jahel to have been sent by the cabalist to
play the part of a Salamander with me. I went so far as to excuse
her in my mind of being the nymph of that old fool. To obtain an
immediate explanation I bluntly and coarsely asked her if she was in
the habit of acting the Salamander in the castle.

"I don't understand you," she replied, looking at me with eyes full
of innocent surprise. "You speak like M. d'Asterac himself, and I
could believe you to be attacked by his mania also, if I had not
proved that you do not share the aversion to women that he has. He
cannot stand any female, and it is a real annoyance to me to see and
speak with him. Nevertheless I was looking for him when I found
you."

The pleasure of being reassured made me again smother her with
kisses.

She managed to let me see that she had black stockings which, over
the knees, were held up by garters ornamented with diamond buckles
and that sight brought back my mind to ideas pleasant to her.
Besides she entreated me on the welcome subject with much ability
and fervour, and I was aware that she became excited over the game
at the very moment I began to get fatigued from it, However I did my
best, and was fortunate enough to spare the beautiful girl a
disgrace which she did not deserve in the least. It seemed to me
that she was not discontented with me. She rose, very quietly, and
said:

"Do you really not know if M. d'Asterac will soon be back? I confess
to you that I came to ask him for a small amount of that pension he
owes to my uncle, a trifle only. I very badly want it just now."

I took my purse out and handed her, with due excuses, the three
crowns it contained. It was all that remained of the too rare
liberalities of the cabalist who, professing to dislike money,
unluckily forgot to pay me my salary.

I asked Mademoiselle Jahel if I should not have the pleasure of
seeing her again.

"You will," she replied.

And we agreed that she should ascend at night-time to my room
whenever she could escape from the lodge, where she was pretty
nearly a prisoner.

"Take care to remember," I told her, "that my room is the fourth on
the right of the corridor and Abbe Coignard's the fifth. The others
give access to the lofts, where two or three scullions lodge, and
hundreds of rats."

She assured me that she would be very careful not to make a mistake,
and would scratch on my door and not on any other.

"Besides," she continued, "your Abbe Coignard seems to be a very
good man, and I am pretty sure that we have in no way to be afraid
of him. I looked at him, through a peephole, on the day he came with
you to visit my uncle! I thought him amiable, though I could not
hear what he said. Principally his nose I thought to be really
ingenious and capable. A man with such a nose ought to be full of
expedients and I very much wish to become acquainted with him. One
can but better one's mind by having intercourse with people of high
spirit. I am only sorry that my uncle was not pleased with his words
and scoffing humour. Mosaide hates him, and of his capacity for hate
no Christian can form an idea."

"Mademoiselle," I replied, "Monsieur l'Abbe Jerome Coignard is a
very learned man, and he has in addition philosophy and kindness. He
knows the world, and you are quite right in believing him to be a
good counsellor. I regulate myself fully after his advice. But, tell
me, did you see me also, on yonder day, at the lodge, through the
peephole you spoke of?"

"I saw you," she said to me, "and I will not hide from you that I
was pleased. But I must return to my uncle. Good-bye."

The same evening, after supper, M. d'Asterac did not fail to ask me
for news of the Salamander. His curiosity troubled me somewhat. My
answer was that the meeting had surpassed all my expectations, but
that I thought it my duty to confine myself to a discretion due to
such kind of adventures.

"That discretion, my son," he said, "is not of so much use in your
case as you represent. Salamanders do not want their amours to be
kept secret, they are not ashamed of them. One of those nymphs who
loves me does not know of a sweeter pastime than to engrave my
initials enlaced with hers on the bark of trees, as you can see for
yourself by examining the stems of five or six Scotch firs, the
exquisite tops of which you can see from yonder windows. But have
you not, my son, learned that that kind of amour, truly sublime, far
from leaving any fatigue behind, lends to the heart a new vigour? I
am sure that after what passed to-day you'll employ your night in
translating at least sixty pages of Zosimus the Panopolitan."

I confessed that on the contrary I felt very sleepy, which he
explained by reason of the astonishment produced by such a first
meeting. And so the great man remained convinced that I had had
intercourse with a Salamander. I felt some scruples at deceiving
him, but I was compelled to do it and, besides, he deceived himself
to such a degree that it was hardly possible to add anything to his
illusions. So I ascended peacefully to my room, went to bed, and
blew the candle out at the end of the most glorious day of my life.

CHAPTER XVI

Jahel comes to my Room--What the Abbe saw on the Stairs--His
Encounter with Mosaide.

Jahel kept her word. On the second day after, she scratched at my
door. We were a great deal more comfortable in my room than we had
been in M. d'Asterac's study, and what had taken place at our first
meeting was but child's play in comparison to what love inspired us
at our second opportunity. She tore herself out of my arms at the
dawn with a thousand oaths to join me again very soon, calling me
her soul, her life, her dearest sweetheart.

That day I rose very late. When I reached the library, my master was
already sitting over the papyrus of Zosimus, his pen in one hand,
his magnifying-glass in the other, and worthy of the admiration of
anyone having due consideration for good literature.

"Jacques Tournebroche," he said to me, "the principal difficulty of
this reading consists in not a few of the letters being easily
confounded with others, and it is important for the success of the
deciphering to make a list of the characters lending themselves to
similar mistakes, because by not taking such precautions we are
running the risk of employing the wrong terminations, to our eternal
shame and just vituperation. I have to-day already committed some
ridiculous blunders. It must have been because, since daybreak, my
mind has been troubled by what I saw last night, and of which I will
give you an account.

"I woke up in the morning twilight, and I felt a longing for a glass
of that light white wine about which I made yesterday my compliments
to M. d'Asterac, if you remember. For there exists, my son, between
white wine and the crowing of the cock a sympathy, doubtless dating
from Noah's time, and I am certain that if Saint Peter, in that
sacred night he passed in the yard of the great high priest, had had
just a mouthful of Moselle claret or only wine of Orleans, he never
would have disowned Jesus Christ before the cock crowed a second
time. But in no sense, my boy, have we to regret that bad action; it
was of the utmost importance that the prophecies were fulfilled, and
if Peter, or Cephas, had not committed on that very night the worst
of infamies, he would not now be the greatest saint in heaven, and
the corner-stone of our holy Church, to the confusion of honest men
according to the world, who have to see the keys of their eternal
bliss held by a dastardly knave. O salutary example, which, drawing
man out of the fallacious inspirations of human honour, leads him on
the road of salvation! O masterly disposition of religion! O divine
wisdom, exalting the meek and wretched to the humiliation of the
haughty! O marvel! O mystery! To the eternal shame of the Pharisees
and lawyers, a common mariner of the Lake of Tiberias, who by his
gross cowardice had become the laughing-stock of the kitchen wenches
who warmed themselves with him in the courtyard of the high priest,
a churl and a dastard, who denied his master and his faith before
slatterns certainly not so pretty by far as the chamber-maid of the
bailiff's wife at Seez, wears the triple crown, the pontifical ring
on his finger and rules over princes and bishops, over kings and
emperors, is invested with the right to bind and loose; the most
respectable of men, the most honest dame, cannot enter heaven unless
he gives them admission.

"But tell me, Tournebroche, my boy, at what part of my narrative had
I arrived when I got muddled over that great Saint Peter, the prince
of apostles? If I remember well I spoke to you of a glass of white
wine I drank at daybreak. I came down to the pantry in my shirt, and
took out of a certain cupboard, the key of which I had prudently
kept by me the day before, a bottle, the contents of which I emptied
with no little pleasure. Afterwards reascending the stairs I met,
between the second and third flights, a tiny damsel clad as a
pierrot, who descended the steps. She seemed to be mightily afraid,
and fled into the farthest corner of the passage. I followed her,
caught her, took her in my arms, and kissed her in a sudden and
irresistible outbreak of sympathy. Don't blame me, my boy; in my
place you would have done as much, perhaps more. It was a pretty
girl, reminding me of the serving-maid of the bailiff's wife, but
with more vivacity in her looks. She did not dare to scream. She
whispered breathless in my ear: 'Leave me, leave me; you're mad!'
Look here, Tournebroche, I still have the marks of her finger nails
on my wrist. O that I could keep as vivid on my lips the impression
of the kiss she gave me!"

"What, Monsieur Abbe," I exclaimed, "she gave you a kiss?"

"Be sure, my boy, that in my place you would have had one too--that
is to say, if you, as I did, seized the opportunity. I believe I
told you that I held the damsel in close embrace. She tried to fly
from me, she suppressed her screams, she murmured groans. 'For
heaven's sake, leave me! It begins to be light, a moment more and I
am lost.' Her fears, her fright, her danger--who could be barbarous
enough not to be affected by them? I am not inhuman. I gave her
freedom at the price of a kiss, which she gave me quickly. On my
word, I never enjoyed a more delicious one."

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