“You speak in riddles,” said the Great High Priest, and his tone was irritable.
“I mean to say God helped her to escape twice before—nay, three times. You are brave, to say nothing more of it, to put another spoke in the wheel.”
“By God do I understand you to mean the Serpent?”
“As you will. To my certain knowledge she has kissed the Serpent. The sensation must have been a new one, almost a dangerous one. After ages spent hearing the dull praise of men coming from lips all stereotyped, one soft kiss would have its—er—its value.”
The Great High Priest looked at him sternly, as became his office.
“The Serpent is above such petty considerations,” said he. “You speak with too much levity of sacred things.”
“A fault of my education. Forgive me for it. And the summons is to be issued on New Year’s Day?”
“Or on the eve.”
“I understand you. God and his counterfeit will help or hinder you. Good-night!”
Next morning, walking in the Park, he came on Rosalie walking with the frog. Quite unconscious of the impending trial, she stopped on meeting him.