caused me. Give me another
one."

Arcade objected that it was difficult for him to satisfy such a demand.
That having quarrelled with the sovereign dispenser of guardian
Spirits, he could obtain nothing from that quarter.

"My dear Maurice," he added, smiling, "ask for one yourself from
Ialdabaoth."

"No,--no,--no," exclaimed Maurice. "You have taken away my guardian
angel,--give him back to me."

"Alas! I cannot."

"Is it, Arcade, because you are a revolutionary that you cannot?"

"Yes."

"An enemy of God?"

"Yes."

"A Satanic spirit?"

"Yes."

"Well, then," exclaimed young Maurice, "I will be your guardian
angel,--I will not leave you."

And Maurice d'Esparvieu took Arcade to have some oysters at P----'s.

CHAPTER XXVI

THE CONCLAVE

That day, convoked by Arcade and Zita, the rebellious angels met
together on the banks of the Seine at La Jonchere, in a deserted and
tumble-down entertainment-hall that Prince Istar had hired from a
pot-house keeper called Barattan. Three hundred angels crowded together
in the stalls and boxes. A table, an arm-chair, and a collection of
small chairs were arranged on the stage, where hung the tattered
remnants of a piece of rustic scenery. The walls, coloured in distemper
with flowers and fruit, were cracked and stained with damp, and were
crumbling away in flakes. The vulgar and poverty-stricken appearance of
the place rendered the grandeur of the passions exhibited therein all
the more striking.

When Prince Istar asked the assembly to form its Committee, and first of
all to elect a President, the name that was renowned throughout the
world entered the minds of all present, but a religious respect sealed
their lips; and after a moment's silence, the absent Nectaire was
elected by acclamation. Having been invited to take the chair between
Zita and an angel of Japan, Arcade immediately began as follows:

"Sons of Heaven! My comrades! You have freed yourselves from the bonds
of celestial servitude--you have shaken off the thrall of him called
Iahveh, but to whom we should here accord his veritable name of
Ialdabaoth, for he is not the creator of the worlds, but merely an
ignorant and barbarous demiurge, who having obtained possession of a
minute portion of the Universe has therein sown suffering and death.
Sons of Heaven, tell me, I charge you, whether you will combat and
destroy Ialdabaoth?"

All with one voice made answer:

"We will!"

And man