Besides the bottles lay the men's Skins. Rastignac wondered why they had not crawled to the halltree and hung themselves up.
"What ails them? What is that smell?" said Mapfarity.
"I don't know," replied Archambaud, "but I know the visitor. He is Father Jules, priest of the Guild of Egg-stealers."
Rastignac raised his queer, bracket-shaped eyebrows, picked up a bottle in which there remained a slight residue, and drank.
"Mon Dieu, it is the sacrament wine!" he cried.
Mapfarity said, "Why would they be drinking that?"
"I don't know. Wake Mapfabvisheen up, but let the good father sleep. He seems tired after his spiritual labors and doubtless deserves a rest."
Doused with a bucket of cold water the little Ssassaror staggered to his feet. Seeing Archambaud, he embraced him. "Ah, Archambaud, old baby-abductor, my sweet goose-bagger, my ears tingle to see you again!"
They did. Red and blue sparks flew off his ear-feathers.
"What is the meaning of this?" sternly interrupted Mapfarity. He pointed at the dirt swept into the corners.