—­Neither is the Cure made of wood.

—­You make one shiver.  Can my daughter have anything in common with your peasants’ Cure?  I say again that it is purely for diversion that she goes to Mass.  And I understand it.  Where can she show her new dress?  And what place is more favourable for this little display than going into and coming out of church?

—­Then the Church is a spectacle like another.  There are chants, music, tapers, perfumes, flowers, the half-light which comes through the coloured windows.

—­Without speaking of the fellows covered with gold-tinsel who repeat in unknown language the pater-nosters to which no one listens.  It is enough to make one burst with laughing, and, if I had not my cabbages to plant, I would go myself now and again and entertain myself at these masquerades which are as good as the theatres at the fair, and to complete the resemblance, it only costs a couple of sous.

—­But the principal person of the troop attracts the looks, and the danger is there.

—­Your priestling is young then?

—­And vigorous.  Strong appetites.  When I see him rambling in the village, I begin to say:  “Good people, the cock is loose, take care of your hens.”  It is like your Cure of Djidjelly.

—­I am easy on that ground.  The black cock will not come and rub his wings here.  He knows now that he has mistaken the door; they have informed him regarding me, and he will not be so rude as to come again.

But just at that moment the servant came into the room quite scared, and said: 

—­Here is Monsieur le Cure.

—­Who? what? said Durand; and turning towards me, Shall I receive him? 
Well, we shall have a laugh!

He was still undecided, when Marcel glided into the room.

XIX.

HARD WORDS.

  “I will speak, Madame, with the liberty
  of a soldier who knows but ill how to
  varnish the truth.”

  RACINE (Britannicus).

The old soldier, upright, with his hand leaning on the back of his arm-chair, let the priest come forward with all the agreeableness of a mastiff which is making ready to bite.

The latter bowed gravely, and, although he felt himself to be in hostile quarters, took the seat offered him with an easy air.

Meanwhile his bearing and pleasant look produced their usual effect.

Imbued with the theories of the army, which of all surroundings is that in which one judges most by the appearance, where a good carriage is the first condition of success, where in fact they salute the stripes and not the man, the Captain was, in presence of this handsome young fellow, recalled to less aggressive sentiments.

—­Hang it! he said to himself, what a splendid cuirassier this fellow would have made!  What devil of an idea has shoved him into a cassock?