Your sort, Father
Gregory, are somewhat unpleasant in that particular--if I may judge by
their Legate here. Well, try small talk. They would fall desperately in
love with polecats and skunks if endowed with small talk. Why, they have
become enamoured of monks before now! If skunks, why not monks? And
again--'
'Five!'
Having solemnly bellowed this tremendous number, the holy man lifted his
arms to begin the combat.
Farina felt his nerves prick with admiration of the ghostly warrior
daring the Second Power of Creation on that lonely mountain-top. He
expected, and shuddered at thought of the most awful fight ever yet
chronicled of those that have taken place between heroes and the hounds
of evil: but his astonishment was great to hear the Demon, while Bell was
in air and Book aloft, retreat, shouting, 'Hold!'
'I surrender,' said he sullenly. 'What terms?'
'Instantaneous riddance of thee from face of earth.'
'Good!--Now,' said the Demon, 'did you suppose I was to be trapped into a
fight? No doubt you wish to become a saint, and have everybody talking
of my last defeat . . . . Pictures, poems, processions, with the
Devil downmost! No. You're more than a match for me.'
'Silence, Darkness!' thundered the Monk, 'and think not to vanquish thy
victor by flatteries. Begone!'
And again he towered in his wrath.
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