"You are not very complimentary," rejoined the other smiling gravely; "for you know that so far as believing in spirits I am as bad if not worse than he is."
"Ah, but you are jesting."
"On my honor as a gentleman, I am not jesting. See here." As he spoke Pomerantseff seized the Abbé's hand. "You heard me tell the Duke just now that I believed he had seen the spirit of love. Well, the sermon you preached the day before yesterday, which all Paris is talking about, and in which you endeavored to prove the personality of the devil to be a fact, was truer than perhaps you believed when you preached it. Why should not Frontignan have seen the spirit of love when I know and have seen the devil?"
"Mon ami, you are insane!" cried Gérard. "Why, the devil does not exist!"
"I tell you I have seen him—the God of all Evil, the Prince of Desolation!" cried the other in an excited voice. "And what is more, I will show him to you!"
"Show the devil to me!" exclaimed the Abbé, half terrified, half amused. "Why, you are out of your mind!"
The Prince laid his other hand upon the arm of the Abbé, who could feel he was trembling with excitement.
"You know my address," he said in a quick, passionate voice. "When you feel—as I tell you you surely will—desirous of investigating this further, send for me, and I promise, on my honor as a gentleman, to show you the devil, so that you cannot doubt. I will do this on one condition."
The Abbé felt almost faint; for apart from the wildness of the words thus abruptly and unexpectedly addressed to him, the hand of the Prince which lay upon his own, as if to keep him still, seemed to be pouring fire and madness into him. He tried to withdraw it, but the other grasped the fingers tight.
"On one condition," repeated Pomerantseff in a lower tone.