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nothing is to be obtained from them by appealing to their intelligence; one must rouse their interests and their passions.”
Arcade, Istar, Zita, and three or four other angelic conspirators occasionally foregathered in Théophile Belais’ little flat, where Bouchotte gave them tea. Though she did not know that they were rebellious angels, she hated them instinctively, and feared them, for she had had a Christian education, albeit she had sadly failed to keep it up.
Prince Istar alone pleased her; she thought there was something kind-hearted and an air of natural distinction about him. He stove in the sofa, broke down the arm-chairs, and tore corners off sheets of music to make notes, which he thrust into pockets invariably crammed with pamphlets and botties. The musician used to gaze sorrowfully at the manuscript of his operetta, Aline, Queen of Golconda, with its corners all torn off. The prince also had a habit of giving Théophile Belais all sorts of things to take care of—mechanical contrivances, chemicals, bits of old iron, powders, and liquids which gave off noisome smells. Théophile Belats put them cautiously away in the cupboard where he kept his wings, and the responsibility weighed heavily upon him.
Arcade was much pained at the disdain of those of his fellows who had remained faithful. When they met him as they went on their sacred errands
