"And the angel closed the door."

* * * * *

"It was a long pathway covered in red-hot embers. I staggered as if I
had been drinking; I stumbled at every single step; I was covered in
sweat, a drop on every single hair of my body, and I was gasping for
something to drink.... But, thanks to the sandals St. Peter lent me, I
didn't burn my feet.

"After stumbling and limping along for some time, I saw a door on the
left.... No, it was more a gate, an enormous, yawning gate, like a huge
oven door. What a fantastic sight, my children! No one asked my name,
even there at the reception area. I went through the cavernous door in
batches, my brothers, just like you sinners as you go to the cabaret on
Sunday night.

"I was sweating profusely, and yet frozen to the spot, I was trembling
fearfully. My hair stood on end. I smelt burning, roasting flesh,
something like the smell that spread around Cucugnan when Eli, the
marshal, burned the hoof of an old ass while shoeing it. I couldn't
breathe in that foetid, burning air; I heard a frightful clamour. There
was moaning, howling, cursing.

"--You there! Are you coming in, or are you staying outside? scorned a
horned devil, prodding me with his fork.

"--Me? I'm not going in. I am a friend of Almighty God.

"--So, you're a friend of God.... Eh! You damned fool! What are you
doing here?...

"--I have come.... Oh! don't bother me, I can hardly stand up.... I
have come ... I have come from a far away ... to humbly ask ... if ...
if, by any chance, you have someone here from Cucugnan....

"--Oh! God's teeth! you're playing the idiot, you; it's as though you
didn't know that the whole of Cucugnan is here. Well, ugly crow, watch
and you will see how things are here with your precious
Cucugnanians...."

* * * * *

"And I saw, in the middle of a terrible, flaming vortex of flame:

"The lanky Coq-Galine--you all knew him, my brothers--Coq-Galine, who
was regularly drunk, and so often knocked ten bells out of his poor
Clairon.

"I saw Catarinet ... that little vixen ... with her nose in the air ...
who slept _alone_ in the barn.... You remember that, you rascals!...
But let's move on, I've said too much already.

"I saw Pascal Doigt-de-Poix, who made his olive oil--with monsieur
Julien's olives!

"I saw Babet the gleaner, who, as she gleaned, grabbed handfuls from
the stacks to make up her quota!

"I saw Master Grapasi, who oiled