“I certainly will,” I replied, and I was almost enthusiastic.
Of course, there were a few additional things that I wanted, but I thought it unwise to mention these ambitions at this time. I really was not very well acquainted with the Abbe, and, after all, it is not best to be two precipitous in your confidences.
The Abbe seemed pleased. He insisted! on shaking hands. He even kissed me, on both cheeks, after the French fashion.
I want to say at this place, that though I have performed many brave acts of derring-do in my short life, such as subduing, single-handed, the Yellow Ant of Fargone, eight feet tall and very deadly in its poison, and facing, undaunted, the Mystic Mere Woman of the Western Sea; still, the bravest moment of my life was when I withstood the frog kiss of the Abbe and did not scream; for I wanted to — oh! how I longed to howl out my fear to the listening owls and scorpions — but, of course, such conduct would be unseemly in the future Overlord of Cornwall. So I smiled, and vowed him my vows and told him to be sure not to forget the copy of Elephantis, and would he please refresh me with some more wine before the evening’s performance began.
It was later on, an eternity of waiting as far as I was concerned, but perhaps only an hour or so in actual minutes, and then we foregathered in a lower room of the castle. A light shone in that room, though where it came from was only one more thing for me to worry over. Near one wall was a low stool, and in front of it a low table, and on that table something, tall and round, covered by a square of velvet tapestry.
The Abbe sat on the stool.
I stood behind him, and my right hand thoughtfully fingered the handle of my favorite dagger, the one carved out of ivory into the semblance of a woman — and the naked blade of her had kissed more than one brave man and foul monster to death.
Then from cracks in the walls — yes! perhaps cracks in the floor, or so it seemed to my fancy — the brethren came into being and gathered in a semicircle around the table, and their faces all seemed frog-like and of a peculiar resemblance to the Abbe— and there they stood, and I said to my knees, “Thou art of the offspring of the loins of Christopher;” and I whispered to my jaws, “In silence, remember the bravery of thy grandsire David.” But in spite of these admonitions my knees and my jaws castanetted, to my sore dismay.
From the Abbe came a croak. And in a low chorus came answering croaks from the men who stood before us. I looked into their faces, and in the shifting, shimmering streak of light I saw the same frog-like features that I had been so amazed at seeing in the face of the Abbe.
Before I could properly conceal my astonishment, the Abbe took a chalice from a hole in the wall, and, after doing that which seemed rather indecorous, took it in both hands and gave each of the Brethren a drink from it. What that drink really was I, at that time, could only imagine, but later on, after deep study of Satanism, I frequently shuddered at my narrow escape that night. Fortunately, I was not asked to join with them in the draining of the cup.
Seating himself on the stool back of the table, he bade me take the covering from off the thing that was both tall and round. I did so, and, even as he had told me, there was a large glass bottle with a toad squatting at the bottom. The glass of the vessel was of a wonderful clearness. There was no difficulty in seeing the toad, every part of him, but especially his face and eyes. He faced the Abbe — and the eyes of these two loathsome things, one a demon-frog, and the other a man-frog, — glowed ghoulishly at each other.
Meanwhile, the other Brethren, those from Bohemia, and even as far as Gobi, stood silently, and whether they even breathed or not was hard to say, for all I knew was that none of them should come to the back of the Abbe, and also I knew that what I was seeing was a most interesting sight.
The two animals looked at each other. Between them, separated by a glass wall, divided by thousands of years of different thinking, conflicting ambitions, crossed personalities, waged a conflict of the souls, such as rarely has been fought on this earth or any other so far as I know though, of course, I do not know all that there is to know about the other planets, or this one either, for that matter.
They glared at each other, each striving for supremacy, each trying to destroy the other. I could not see the eyes of the Abbe, but clearly I saw that the eyes of the imprisoned toad were the eyes of confidence, and supreme confidence.
Did the Abbe see in that what I saw?
He must have! For he tried to escape. Three times he endeavored to arise and flee, and each time he was pulled down to the stool and his face and eyes drawn closer to the face peering at him so derisively through the clear glass wall. Then, with a low moan, the poor man slumped silently forward, and even before our eyes he melted, first into a jelly, and then into a pool of evil, odoriferous slime, running here and there over the floor, but mainly absorbed and held together by the clothing of what had once been called the Abbe Rousseau.
And as he died, the frog grew larger and in some ways changed to a more human shape. He swung slowly around in the bottle, and, in the course of the circle that his eyes made he looked long at each of the Brethren, and after that look, they stood still and moved not, though in the face of each came a gleam of despair.
Now the thing in the bottle looked at me. Well, let him look all he wanted to! I was holding fast to the cross in my bosom and I knew the power of the cork to hold him inside his crystal prison. If I found that there was something to his glare, I could shut my eyes. Of course, I knew that I could shut my eyes whenever I wanted to, if the influence was too baleful.
But those eyes did not try to do me harm. Rather –
The thing stood on his hind legs, and with his hand he made a sign
Shocked beyond measure, I recalled that appeal for help, taught me by other Brethren in the desert of Araby. What could such a creature mean by doing thus? Or was it an accident? A coincidence?
Or had this toad also once been in the Holy Presence in Araby?
Of course, I knew what he wanted.
And, answering his sign, I pulled out the cork.
He came out.
I had expected that, but I was surprized to find that after he had passed through the neck of the bottle he was no longer a toad but rather like a man. Even his face did not look like the face of the Abbe, but had a pleasant countenance that in some way warmed my heart and removed at least a part of my apprehension.
He paid no attention to me, but passed slowly in front of the frog-faced men, and as he passed they moaned in anguish and fell on their knees and faces before him and tried to kiss his feet-
But it was this act of adoration that made me look at his feet, and then I saw that they were hoofed and hairy, like those of a goat.
Finally, he passed all the men, and, turning, made a sign, and at that sign they also turned to slime, and their ending was in all respects like the ending of the Abbe, naught being left on the floor save the clothing that they wore and the toad-juice, oozing out of it.