—­To me! nothing at all.  I don’t know him.  He is part of the holy priesthood; that is enough for me.  He is a scoundrel like the rest.

—­But it is not enough to call a man scoundrel, you must prove that he is.

—­Don’t trouble me about your proofs.  Do you suppose I am going to rummage into this gentleman’s private life and see what passes in his alcove?  No, indeed, I have no desire to do so, and I leave that care to my cook.

—­Come, Captain, you admit that this is to vilify a man on rather slender grounds.  There are fagots and fagots, and so there are Cures and Cures.  This one, I assure you, is an excellent fellow.

—­It may be so, but as I have no desire to make his acquaintance, I laugh at his good qualities.

—­Everybody is not of your opinion, and it appears that all the women are distracted about him.

—­Another reason why I detest him; women usually place their affections very badly.

—­And he turns the heads of all the girls.

—­That is good!  Oh, the good Cure.  He reminds me of the one at Djidjelly when I was a non-commissioned officer, the greatest girl-hunter that I have ever known.  The Kabyles used to call him Bou-Zeb, which means capable of the thirteenth labour of Hercules, and they held him in high esteem, but when he went near their tents they used to make all the women go inside.  Ah! that was a famous Cure!  I wish that ours resembled him, and that he would get a child out of all the girls, and that he would make cuckolds of all the husbands.

—­Why so?

—­To teach these idiots to let their wives and their daughters be idle and dance attendance at the churches, and relate all the details of their household and their little sins to these bullies, as to their grand-dad.

—­I grant there is some danger when the confidant is a handsome bachelor.

—­There is no need to be handsome, sir.  With the women, the cassock gives charms to the ugliest.  I have known a sweet and lovely creature become mad after one of these rogues who had a head like a pitchfork.  He did with her what he wished.  He made her devout, shrewish, and the worst of whores.  Yes, yes, they say that the red breeches get over the women, but the black gown bewitches them.  Explain that if you can.  They want to know what is underneath that wicked cassock.  Something strange, mysterious, monstrous attracts them.  Women love enormities, and besides it must be said, especially and above all, forbidden fruit.

The Captain had mounted his favourite hobby, I could only let him go on.