Dismissal.


A confused sentiment as of a dream remained with me after this long
conversation, but the thoughts of Catherine became keener. In
despite of the sublimities I had been listening to, I was overcome
by a powerful desire to see her, although I had not had any supper.
The ideas of philosophy had not sufficiently penetrated me to cause
anything like a disgust at that pretty girl. I was resolved to
follow my good fortune to its end before becoming the prey of one of
those beautiful furies of the air, who do not want any human rival.
My only fear was that Catherine, at so late an hour, had become
tired of waiting for me. So running along the river bank, and
passing the royal bridge at a gallop, I stormed into the Rue du Bac.
Within a single minute I had reached the Rue de Grenelle, where I
heard shouting mixed up with the clashing of swords. The noise came
out of the very house Catherine had described to me. In front of it,
on the pavement, shadows and lanterns were visible, and voices to be
heard.

"Help, Jesus! I'm being murdered!... fall on the Capuchin! Forward!
Spike him!... Jesus, Mary, help me!... Look on the pretty favourite
lover! On him! On him! Spike him, rascals, spike him hard!"

The windows of the adjoining houses were opened, heads in night-caps
appeared.

Suddenly all this noise and bustle passed before me like a hunt in
the forest, and I recognised Friar Ange running away at such a speed
that his sandals hammered on his behind, while three long devils of