All four, whose courage and vigor had not diminished, would gladly have ventured boldly into a zigzagging corridor. But they could not evade the fire. Certain areas harbored impressive and highly dangerous flames that Clarence could not control. She kept weaving and weaving. To no avail.

Was it fear they were feeling? Marilyn’s gaze met Henri’s…

— I apologize for everything I may have done or said wrong. Despite free will, it is all the fault of General Rose of the Winds, Marilyn and Henri confessed to one another. They shared a simple, slow, gentle kiss, as though to reconnect.

An ordinary gesture. An astonishing result. The flames seemed to shift, retreat, part, even go out completely and vanish from the accursed place.

Hell burned less and less, until all the flames were extinguished. Its temperature kept dropping until it came to resemble that of paradise.

— Do you know what we believe, Uncle Maxime? the angel interjected happily. Love can completely destroy hell. If it hasn’t already...

— Interesting! But do you see that bend over there, higher up? What am I saying?! That corroded grille. Let’s go and see what lies behind it. Come back to your ceiling, Clarence, concluded Uncle Maxime, opening his flexible mouth, pleased to see the spider finally obey him.

— I don’t know where this may lead us. But let’s go and see before we leave this place, Marilyn ventured bravely. Then she added:

— I don’t see any guards. The whole gang of villains seems to have disappeared. There isn’t even the trace of a branding iron.

With the utmost caution, they approached the iron door. It was as wide and as tall as the gates of paradise. Above it, there was a black-on-gray inscription scrawled like graffiti, as if written with a fork dipped in soot. “One denies only what one truly thinks through!” translated Henri.

After checking and checking again, and noticing that no mischievous Cerberus was lurking nearby, they slowly opened the doors. At last, they could observe what lay beyond, and do so without risk. There were all the damned souls, all the tormented spirits. There too were the elect of paradise, the saints, and the pious beings whom the general of hell had teleported there. All of them transported by Rose from the very beginning of his invasion of paradise, as though he were building an unnecessary monopoly.

All the people before them were walking about naked. Well, almost naked. Each wore a vine leaf prominently placed over the third eye. They moved from one person to another, making requests.

To blend in, the angel and Marilyn also undressed. Henri was already naked. Uncle Maxime noticed piles of vine leaves near the doors. All four placed them on their foreheads.

— I don’t know whether this is the place or the moment, but I find you beautiful, Marilyn!

— Thank you, you know… you have charm. In the end, I think you are beautiful too, despite your small size and your little astonishing thing.

— Hmm… Let’s see whether these people have anything to reveal. Some juicy detail that might prove useful to us, and fatal to Rose...

Suddenly, a man approached Marilyn.

— Are you the one I am looking for, the one I must? said the damned man with lifeless eyes, showing no emotion.

Understanding nothing at all, she simply answered him with a brief, almost pleading no. Not wishing to sound abrupt, she offered no further comment on the strange question or on her short reply.

A woman whom Toutrec associated with European history approached Henri and asked him:

— Are you the one I am looking for, the one I must?

— No, Lucrezia Borgia! I don’t believe I am.

— Why do you answer me that way? asked the sultry Hispano-Italian woman whom Toutrec had recognized. Who is Lucrezia Borgia? And why don’t you simply answer no? Are you the devil?

Thanks to his instinctive understanding of things, Henri could know the identity of his interlocutors.

— No!

As though that brief reply had answered all of Borgia’s questions, she moved on again, farther off, asking the same question of another damned soul among the many. “Are you the one I am looking for, the one I must?” And she received a no from her opposite number with disarming assurance. Then she continued her ordeal of questioning.

Henri and Marilyn, the angel and the guardian of the void, crossed dozens upon dozens of damned souls. Always the same question, the same expression of weariness and mnemonic confusion.

Not the slightest hint of nuance in the words, nor in the uniform intonation. There was only one punishment in hell: to search for one’s soulmate for eternity. The famous half-moon.

— But hell is horrible! Worse than suffering through fire. They are condemned to search for one another for eternity! The flames we saw are only a distraction!

At Marilyn’s words, a flash of genius passed through the eyes of the four adventurers. Without saying a word, they began carefully removing the vine leaves from a few nearby souls.

As soon as a vine leaf was taken away, awareness of the self, of the individual and exceptional being, returned clearly to the soul. Thus, when Henri removed Bonnie’s leaf, instead of hearing, “Are you the one I am looking for, the one I must?...” he heard... “Where is Clyde? I must find him. I regret the harm I have done, and I love him.”

— Wait! You will find him, but not now. We need your help, Bonnie. If you want to find Clyde, remove every vine leaf you can. Do it until the task is finished. Do it while repeating exactly what I have just asked you, and do not stop to ask questions. Then come back to Tonton Maxime, the being with the platypus beak, as quickly as possible. Go and multiply! he said, without realizing the strangeness of the phrase.

Thus, exponentially, all those beings emerged from their innocent lethargy. Some couples were fortunate enough to find one another again at once. Their Lulums found them.

— Eternity may be absolute, but not the number of the unfortunate souls in hell and paradise! Marilyn pointed out.

When all had been freed, the sound of myriad laughs echoed through hell. They were the laughs of freedom. This accursed place had never known such happiness, except for that of Rose of the Winds and his wicked accomplices.

— We love you! You have saved us from torment! We must leave this place!

Then a soul approached Marilyn and Henri. A deep anxiety was visible on the face.

— Here, I and the other souls did exactly as you wished.

Then the person fell silent, frowned, and continued…

— But something is wrong.

— What is the problem? asked Marilyn, Henri, and Potato Peels, who had just rejoined them.

— There is one soul from whom we removed the vine leaf, yet she still keeps asking the question you know.

— Where is she? asked Henri and the angel.

— Surely not far from here. I had to answer no to her a moment ago. Ah! There, look. She is putting the question to Napoleon, who is with Josephine.

Before the famous military leader stood a woman of extraordinary beauty. A being whose fine and delicate features might have made her a legend on Earth, had she been a queen.

Had she ever been?

Henri was fascinated by the woman’s face and magnificent body. The skin of her soul... if one may dare speak of it so... was perfect.

Marilyn too was looking, though with a certain apprehension. A trace of jealousy, perhaps...?

Toutrec’s obvious swoon and Marilyn’s anxiety were interrupted by the angel. As for Uncle Maxime, he was warming up his mouth for a very specific purpose.

— Let us not get entangled in her troubles for now. When the time comes, we shall find someone capable of completing her, said the angel, rubbing his hands together.

Restoring serenity to paradise—that is what matters, the angel added.

Then Henri, who was still holding the voodoo doll, handed it to the beautiful Numidian woman. She did not refuse it and stopped asking questions, focusing instead on the evil object as though it were a mere toy.

Potato Peels, Marilyn, and Henri turned toward Uncle Maxime:

— It is time to open wide! Very wide! Before Rose of the Winds returns.

— I have no fear that I may fail to gather them all into the void. There is room for everyone, and infinitely more besides, he said, widening his mouth more than necessary so that everyone could enter without causing a traffic jam.

— Rose of the Winds has proved himself highly skilled, the villain! Too powerful for the four of us! But not powerful enough for all of us, Henri exclaimed loudly, raising one arm, hand open, as though signaling to the calm souls to prepare themselves.

— I am going to transport all of you to paradise with my zirgouille! Uncle Maxime exclaimed.

— What did you say? asked Henri.

— Yes! What is that? cried some of the more inquisitive souls.

— The zirgouille is the name I have given to the movement by which I pass from the void to another world, or the reverse, by swallowing or regurgitating myself. If I were a cook, I would have given that name to a mold. What am I saying?! I always say it! To a dish.

Everyone boarded the void through Uncle’s zirgouille. At first, no one believed in it. Some were afraid. Only as the multitude of survivors began to enter did they grasp the possibility of travelling that way. It was only to be expected: the absolute void is vast, and unsettling.