the sepulchral chambers of the
pyramids, of which ancient Herodotus speaks, nor the brick tower of
Babylon, nor the immense white marble sanctuary of the Indian temple of
Eklinga. I, no more than yourself, have seen the Chaldean masonry works
constructed according to the sacred form of the Sikra, nor the temple of
Solomon, which is destroyed, nor the stone doors of the sepulchre of the
kings of Israel, which are broken. We will content ourselves with the
fragments of the book of Hermes which we have here. I will explain to
you the statue of Saint Christopher, the symbol of the sower, and that
of the two angels which are on the front of the Sainte-Chapelle, and one
of which holds in his hands a vase, the other, a cloud--"

Here Jacques Coictier, who had been unhorsed by the archdeacon's
impetuous replies, regained his saddle, and interrupted him with the
triumphant tone of one learned man correcting another,--"_Erras amice
Claudi_. The symbol is not the number. You take Orpheus for Hermes."

"'Tis you who are in error," replied the archdeacon, gravely. "Daedalus
is the base; Orpheus is the wall; Hermes is the edifice,--that is all.
You shall come when you will," he continued, turning to Tourangeau, "I
will show you the little parcels of gold which remained at the bottom of
Nicholas Flamel's alembic, and you shall compare them with the gold of
Guillaume de Paris. I will teach you the secret virtues of the Greek
word, _peristera_. But, first of all, I will make you read, one after
the other, the marble letters of the alphabet, the granite pages of the
book. We shall go to the portal of Bishop Guillaume and of Saint-Jean le
Rond at the Sainte-Chapelle, then to the house of Nicholas Flamel, Rue
Manvault, to his tomb, which is at the Saints-Innocents, to his two
hospitals, Rue de Montmorency. I will make you read the hieroglyphics
which cover the four great iron cramps on the portal of the hospital
Saint-Gervais, and of the Rue de la Ferronnerie. We will
spell out in company, also, the facade of Saint-Come, of
Sainte-Genevieve-des-Ardents, of Saint Martin, of Saint-Jacques
de la Boucherie--."

For a long time, Gossip Tourangeau, intelligent as was his glance, had
appeared not to understand Dom Claude. He interrupted.

"_Pasque-dieu_! what are your books, then?"

"Here is one of them," said the archdeacon.

And opening the window of his cell he pointed out with his finger the
immense church of Notre-Dame, which, outlini