VII.
As the sound of the bells died away, the last drop of water fell from the clepsydra and marked the hour of midnight. Then the furnace opened and showed the glowing crucible, which burst with a terrible noise, and threw out a gigantic flame that reached the sky through the torn roof. Sylvestre Ker, enveloped by the fire, fell prostrate on the ground, suffocated in the burning smoke.
The silence of death followed. Suddenly an awful voice said to him: "Arise." And he arose.
On the spot where had stood the furnace, of which not a vestige remained, was standing a man, or rather a colossus; and Sylvestre Ker needed but a glance to recognize in him the demon. His body appeared to be of iron, red-hot and transparent; for in his veins could be seen the liquid gold, flowing into, and then retreating from, his heart, black as an extinguished coal.
The creature, who was both fearful and beautiful to behold, extended his hand towards the side of the tower nearest the sea, and in the thick wall a large breach was made.
"Look!" said Satan.
Sylvestre Ker obeyed. He saw, as though distance were annihilated, the interior of the humble church of Plouharnel where the faithful We assembled. The officiating priest had just ascended the altar, brilliant with the Christmas candles, and there was great pomp and splendor; for the many monks of Gildas the Wise were assisting the poor clergy of the parish.
In a corner, under the shadow of a column knelt Dame Josserande in fervent prayer, but often did the dear woman turn towards the door to watch for the coming of her son.
Not far from her was Matheline du Coat-Dor, bravely attired and very beautiful, but lavishing the pearls of her smiles upon all who sought them, forgetting no one but God; and, close to Matheline, Pol Bihan squared his broad shoulders. Then, even as Satan had given to Sylvestre Ker's sight the power of piercing the walls, so did he permit him to look into the depth of hearts. In his mother's heart he saw himself as in a mirror. It was full of him. Good Josserande prayed for him; she prayed to Jesus, whose feast is Christmas, in the pious prayer which fell from her lips; and ever and ever said her heart to God: "My son, my son, my son!"
In the heart of Pol, Sylvestre Ker saw pride of strength and gross cupidity; in the spot where should have been the heart of Matheline, he saw Matheline, and nothing but Matheline, in adoration before Matheline.
"I have seen enough," said Sylvestre Ker.
"Then," replied Satan, "listen!" And immediately the sacred music resounded in the ears of the young tenant of the tower as plainly as though he was in the church of Plouharnel. They were singing the Sanctus: "Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of Hosts! The heavens and the earth are full of Thy glory. Hosanna in the highest! Blessed is He that cometh in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest!"
Dame Josserande repeated the words with the others, but the refrain of her heart continued: "O Jesus, Infinite Goodness! may he be happy. Deliver him from all evil, from all sin. I have only him to love.... Holy, holy, holy, give me all the suffering and keep for him all the happiness!"
Can you believe it? Even while piously inhaling the perfume of this celestial hymn, the young tenant wished to know what Matheline was saying to God. Everything speaks to God,—the wild beasts in the forest, the birds in the air, even the plants, whose roots are in the ground.
But miserable girls who sell the pearls of their smiles are lower than the animals and vegetables. Nothing is beneath them,—Pol Bihan excepted. Instead of speaking to God, Pol Bihan and Matheline whispered together, and Sylvestre Ker heard them as distinctly as if he had been between them.
"How much will the fool give?" asked Matheline.
"The idiot will give you all," replied Pol.
"And must I really squint with that one-eyed creature, and limp with the lame wretch?"
Sylvestre Ker felt his heart die away within him.
Meanwhile, Josserande prayed earnestly for Sylvestre Ker.
"Never mind," continued Bihan; "it is worth while limping and squinting for a time to win all the money in the world."
"That is true; but for how long?"
Sylvestre Ker held his breath to hear the better.
"As long as you please," answered Pol Bihan.
There was a pause, after which the gay Matheline resumed in a lower tone,—
"But ... they say after a murder one can never laugh, and I wish to laugh always...."
"Will I not be there?" replied Bihan. "Some time or other the idiot will certainly seek a quarrel with me, and I will crack his bones by only squeezing him in my arms; you can count upon my strength."
"I have heard enough," said Sylvestre Ker to Satan.
"And do you still love this Bihan?"
"No: I despise him."
"And Matheline,—do you love her yet?"
"Yes, oh! yes!... but ... I hate her!"
"I see," said Satan, "that you are a coward, and wicked like all men. Since you have heard and seen enough at a distance, listen, and look at your feet...."
The wall closed with a loud crash of the stones as they came together, and Sylvestre Ker saw that he was surrounded by an enormous heap of gold-pieces, as high as his waist, which gently floated, singing the symphony of riches. All around him was gold, and through the gap in the roof the shower of gold fell, and fell, and fell.
"Am I the master of all this?" asked Sylvestre Ker.
"Yes," replied Satan; "you have compelled me, who am gold, to come forth from my caverns; you are therefore the master of gold, provided you purchase it at the price of your soul. You cannot have both God and gold. You must choose one or the other."
"I have chosen," said Sylvestre Ker. "I keep my soul."
"You have firmly decided?"
"Irrevocably."
"Once, twice, ... reflect! You have just acknowledged that you still love the laughing Matheline."
"And that I hate her.... Yes, ... it is so.... But in eternity I wish to be with my dear mother, Josserande."
"Were there no mothers," growled Satan, "I could play my game much better in the world!"
And he added,—
"For the third time, ... adjudged!"
The heap of gold became as turbulent as the water of a cascade, and leaped and sang; the millions of little sonorous coins clashed against each other, and then all was silent and they vanished.
The room appeared as black as a place where there had been a fire; nothing could be seen but the lurid gleam of Satan's iron body. Then said Sylvestre Ker,—
"Since all is ended, retire!"