Rising And Waning

Gaius licks the tip of the Virgin's blue light bulb pencil.

He writes a short note on the back of his hand, about the knees of Timarcha tenebricosa.

T.t knees obs. bleeding. Research nec.

He supposes he should now return the pencil.

You may keep it, says the Virgin.

I wouldn't think of it, says Gaius.

You licked it, says the Virgin.

To Gaius this seems like a non sequitur.

Would now be a good time to bring up the passport?

Jeanne Jugan enters.

Hello Jeanne, says the Virgin. Lost your halo?

Phoo! says Jeanne. Better off without it these days. I've been volunteering.

Nice one, says the Virgin. Wish I could get out more. Got a tissue?

What for? Oh you've got blood on your foot, dear! Here. Let me.

She wipes the beetle blood off with a tissue.

May I keep that tissue? says Gaius.

Certainly, says Jeanne. You are a very thorough scientist. Have you asked the Virgin about the passport?

What's this? says the Virgin.

Oh, he needs a passport for Saint Roley. They're off to the Gold Coast, on another mission. This one's to save the habitat of the Far Eastern Curlew.

Gaius thinks: Thank you Jeanne.

Oh yes? says the Virgin. He imagines I have a passport? I never go ANYWHERE!

Not you, Butterball, says Jeanne. He must have one. He went to the Arctic Circle.

He did have one, says the Virgin. I got it made. It had his photograph on it.

Gaius would like to borrow it. He'd get it altered of course.

That is illegal, says the Virgin. But I can give you the address in Cancale of the man who did Butterball's. Got any paper?

No one has. Jeanne returns to the back room, to ask Méen.

Saint Roley is there, having left the oyster picnic.

You're getting a passport, Saint Roley, says Jeanne.

Am I? says Saint Roley. Does that mean I don't have to fly all the way to Queensland?

It does, says Jeanne Jugan.

What a relief, says Saint Roley.

Jeanne goes back into the chapel with a scrap of paper, and Saint Roley.

Saint Roley! cries Terence. Look what happened to my beetle!

Saint Roley looks at the beetle. It is immobile. Some of its legs are detached.

Up to now, he has had mixed feelings about the beetle.

But he is getting a passport! His star is on the rise, and the beetle's is waning.

He decides to be helpful, and come up with a useful suggestion. Perhaps a sticking plaster. Someone must have one.

I have an idea how to fix him, says Saint Roley.

My clever parrot! says Terence. I love you!

A tender smile from the Virgin.

A demonic snort from the broken Crache-Sang Scarabée.