odfrey, although a good scholar, could scarcely follow save
for certain holy names, he cursed Madame Riennes in some archaic but
most effective fashion. He consigned, this much Godfrey made out, her
soul to hell and her body to a number of the most uncomfortable
experiences. He trailed her in the dust at the rear of his theological
chariot; he descended from the chariot, so to speak, and jumped upon
her as he had done upon the beetle; he tossed up her mangled remains as
the holy bull, Apis of the Egyptians, might have done with those of a
Greek blasphemer. Then, like a triumphant pugilist, metaphorically he
stood over her and asked her if she wanted any more.

For a little while Madame Riennes was crushed, also very evidently
frightened, for those who deal in the supernatural are afraid of the
supernatural. Indeed, none of us welcome the curse even of a malignant
and disappointed beggar, or of the venomous gipsy angered by this or
that, and much less that of a righteous man inspired by just and holy
indignation. Madame Riennes, an expert in the trade, a dealer in
maledictions, was not exempt from this common prejudice. As she would
have expressed it, she felt that he had the Power on his side.

But Madame was no common charlatan; she had strength of a sort, though
where it came from who could say? Moreover, for all kinds of secret
reasons of her own, she desired to keep in her grip this boy Godfrey,
who had shown himself to be so wonderful a medium or clairvoyant. To
her he meant strength and fortune; also for him she had conceived some
kind of unholy liking in the recesses of her dark soul. Therefore, she
was not prepared to give him up without a struggle.

Presently Madame seemed to cast off the influences with which the
Pasteur had overwhelmed her. While his maledictions were in full flow
she sank in a huddled heap upon the couch. Of a sudden she revived; she
sprang up; notwithstanding her bulk she leapt into the air like a
ballet-dancer. She tore the golden mantilla from her head, letting down
a flood of raven hair, streaked with grey, and waved it round her. She
called upon the names of spirits or demons, long, resounding names with
an Eastern ring about them, to come to her aid. Then she pranced into
the centre of the room, crying:

"Dog of a clergyman, I defy you and will overcome you. That boy's soul
is mine, not yours. I am the greatest mesmerist in the world and he is
in my net. I will show you!"

She tur