"What an error!" replied the man in black. "Salamanders resemble
women, or, to speak precisely, nymphs, and they are perfectly
beautiful! But I feel myself rather a simpleton to ask you if you're
able to see this one. One has to be a philosopher to see a
Salamander, and I do not think philosophers could be found in this
kitchen."

"You may be mistaken, sir," said the Abbe Coignard. "I am a Doctor
of Divinity and Master of Arts. I have also studied the Greek and
Latin moralists, whose maxims have strengthened my soul in the
vicissitudes of my life, and I have particularly applied Boethius as
an antidote for the evils of existence. And here near me is Jacobus
Tournebroche, my disciple, who knows the sentences of Publius Syrus
by heart."

The stranger turned his yellow eyes on the priest, eyes strangely
marked over a nose like the beak of an eagle, and excused himself
with more courtesy than his fierce mien led one to expect, for not
having at once recognised a person of merit, and further he said:

"It is very likely that this Salamander has come for you or your
pupil. I saw it very distinctly in passing along the street before
this cookshop. She would appear better if the fire were fiercer; for
this reason it is necessary to stir the fire vigorously when you
believe A Salamander to be in it."

At the first movement the stranger made to rummage again in the
fire, Friar Ange anxiously covered the soup-tureen with a flap of
his frock and shut his eyes.