Page:The Revolt of the Angels v2.djvu/60

 Monsieur Sariette sought the lost books and manuscripts in every spot where he had already sought them a hundred times, and where they could not possibly be. He even looked in the and under the leather seat of his  When midday struck he mechanically went downstairs. At the foot of the stairs he met his old pupil Maurice, with whom he exchanged a bow. But he only saw men and things as through a mist.

The curator had already reached the hall when Maurice called him back.

“Monsieur Sariette, while I think of it, do have the books removed that are choking up my

“What books, Maurice?”

“I could not tell you, Monsieur Sariette, but there are some in Hebrew, all with a whole heap of old papers. They are in my way. You can’t turn round in the passage.”

“Who took them there?”

“I’m bothered if I know.”

And the young man rushed off to the the luncheon gong having sounded quite a minute ago.

Monsieur Sariette tore away to the Maurice had spoken the truth. About a hundred volumes were there, on tables, on chairs, even on the floor. When he saw them he was divided betwixt joy and fear, filled with amazement