The Rebel Angels

Hollier and I caught the infection and we were laughing loudly when the undertaker's man stuck his head into the chancel from the little room where he was lurking, and coughed. I knew the signal; Parlabane must be whisked off to the crematory before lunch.

"Let us pray," said I.

"Yes," said Hollier; "and afterwards – the cleansing flames." More laughter. The undertaker's man, though he had probably seen some queer funerals, looked scandalized. I have never laughed my way through the Committal before, but I did so now. We met outside after I had seen the coffin on its way. There was no need for me to return for the burning.

"I can't think when I've enjoyed a funeral so much," said Hollier.

"I feel a sense of relief," said Maria. "I suppose I ought to be ashamed of it – but no, I don't really suppose anything of the kind. I'm just relieved. He was getting to be an awful burden, and now it's gone."

"What about lunch?" said I. "Please let me take you. It was good of you to come."

"Couldn't think of it," said Hollier. "After all, you made the arrangements and actually read the service. You've done enough."

"I won't go unless you let me pay," said Maria. "If you want a reason, let's say it's because I'm happier than either of you that he's gone. Gone forever."

So we agreed, and Maria, paid, and lunch stretched out until after three, and we all enjoyed ourselves immensely at what we called Parlabane's Wake. Driving to the University, where none of us had been earlier in the day, we noticed that the flag on the main campus was at half-staff. We did not bother to wonder why; a big university is always regretting the death of one of its worthies.

Second Paradise VI

1

February: Unquestionably crisis month in the University, and probably everywhere else in our Canadian winter. Crisis was raging all about me in Mamusia's sitting-room where, for at least an hour, Hollier had been circling his obsession with Urquhart McVarish and the Gryphius MS without ever coming to grips with the realities of the matter. The room seemed darker even than five o'clock in February could explain. I kept my head low and watched, and watched, and feared, and feared.

"Why don't you say what you want, Hollier? Why don't you speak what is in your mind? Do you think you can fool me? You talk and talk, but what you want shouts louder than what you say. Look here – you want to buy a curse from me. That's what you want. No?"

"It is difficult to explain, Madame Laoutaro."

"But not hard to understand. You want these letters, this book, whatever it is. This other fellow has it and he teases you because you can't get it. You hate him. You want him out of your way. You want that book. You want him punished."

"There are considerations of scholarship –"

"You've told me that. You think you can do whatever can be done with this book better than he can. But most of all, you want to be first with whatever that is. No?"

"Very bluntly put, I suppose that's it."

"Why not bluntly? Look: you come and you flatter me and tell me I'm a phuri dai, and you tell me this long story about this enemy who is making your life a hell, and you think I don't know what you want? You talk about me becoming your colleague in a fascinating experiment. You mean you want me to be your cohani, who casts the evil spell. You talk about the Dark World and the – what's the word – Chthonic Powers and all this professor-talk, but what you mean is Magic, isn't it? Because you're in a situation that can't be dealt with in nice, fancy professor terms and you think maybe the black old stuff might serve you. But you're scared to come right out and ask. Am I right?"