"Don't speak like that, my good sir; in the name of all the saints
of my order, do not speak like that! And do not forget that the
Salamander is naught but the devil, who assumes, as everyone knows,
the most divergent forms, pleasant now and then when he succeeds in
disguising his natural ugliness, hideous sometimes when he shows his
true constitution."

"Take care on your part, Friar Ange," replied the philosopher, "and
as you're afraid of the devil, don't offend him too much and do not
excite him against you by inconsiderate tittle-tattle. You know that
this old Adversary, this powerful Contradictor, has kept, in the
spiritual world, such a power, that God Almighty Himself reckons
with him. I'll say more, God, who was in fear of him, made him His
business man. Be on your guard, little friar, the two understand one
another."

In listening to this speech, the poor Capuchin thought he heard and
saw the devil himself, whom the stranger resembled, pretty near, by
his fiery eyes, his hooked nose, his black complexion and his long
and thin body. His soul, already astonished, became engulfed in a
kind of holy terror, feeling on him the claws of the Malignant, he
began to tremble in all his limbs, hastily put in his wide pockets
all the decent eatables he could get hold of, rose gently and
reached the door by backward steps, muttering exorcisms all the
while.

The philosopher did not take any notice of this. He took from his
pocket a little book covered with horny parchment, which he opened
and presented to my dear teacher and myself. It contained an old