Foucault's pendulum - Umberto Eco [132]
“You probably rubbed the soles of your slippers on the carpet. ‘‘
“Yes, yes, then why were the bibelots flying? Why did one of my alembiques strike my head, and my plaster Baphomet, it falls to the floor, and that a memento of my late father, and on the wall three writings appear in red, ordures I cannot repeat, hein? You know well that no more than a year ago the late Monsieur Gros accused that abbe1 there of making the cataplasms with fecal matter, forgive the expression, and the abbe condemned him to death, and two weeks later the poor Monsieur Gros, he dies mysteriously. This Boutroux handles poisons, the jury d’honneur summoned by the Martinists of Lyon said so...”
“Slander,” Bramanti growled.
“Ah, that then! A trial in matters of this sort is always circumstantial...”
“Yes, but nobody at the trial mentioned the fact that Monsieur Gros was an alcoholic in the last stages of cirrhosis.”
“Do not be enfantine! Sorcelery proceeds by natural ways; if one has a cirrhosis, they strike one in the cirrhosis. That is the ABC of black magic...”
“Then all those who die of cirrhosis have the good Boutroux to blame. Don’t make me laugh!”
“Then tell me, please, what passed in Lyon in those two weeks...Deconsecrated chapel, host with Tetragramma-ton, your Boutroux with a great red robe with the cross upside down, and Madame Olcott, his personal voyante, among other things, with the trident that appears on her brow and the empty chalices that fill with blood by themselves, and the abbe who crached in the mouth of the faithful...Is that true or is it not?”
“You’ve been reading too much Huysmans, my friend!” Bramanti laughed. “It was a cultural event, a pageant, like the celebrations of the school of Wicca and the Druid colleges!”
“Ouais, the carnival of Venise...”
We heard a scuffle, as if Bramanti was attempting to strike his adversary and Aglie was restraining him. “You see? You see?” the Frenchman said in a falsetto. “But guard yourself, Bramanti, and ask your friend Boutroux what happened to himl You don’t know yet, but he’s in the hospital. Ask him who broke his figure! Even if I do not practice that goety of yours, I know a little of it myself, and when I realized that my house was inhabited, I drew on the parquet the circle of defense, and since I do not believe, but your diablotines do, I removed the Carmelite scapular and made the contresign, the envoutement retourne, ah oui. Your abb6 passed a mauvais moment!”
“You see? You see?” Bramanti was panting. “He’s the one casting spells!”
“Gentlemen, that’s enough,” Aglie said politely but firmly. “Now listen to me. You know how highly I value, on a cognitive level, these reexaminations of obsolete rituals, and for me the Luciferine Church and the Order of Satan are equally to be respected above and beyond their demonological differences. You know my skepticism in this matter. But, in the end, we all belong to the same spiritual knighthood, and I urge you to show a minimum of solidarity. After all, gentlemen, to involve the Prince of Darkness in a personal spat! How very childish! Come, come, these are occultists’ tales. You are behaving like vulgar Freemasons. To be frank, yes, Boutroux is a dissident, and perhaps, my dear Bramanti, you might suggest to him that he sell to some junk dealer all that paraphernalia of his, like the props for a production of Boito’s Mefistofele...”
“Ha, c’est bien dit, ca,” the Frenchman snickered. “C’est de la brocanterie...”
“Let’s try to see this in perspective. There has been a debate on what we will call liturgical formalisms, tempers have flared, but we mustn’t make mountains out of molehills. Mind you, my dear Pierre, I am not for one moment denying the presence in your house