“Yes, Chiquon.”

“Oh, well, mine uncle; God would be very stupid to leave in the this world, which he has so curiously constructed, an abominable devil whose special business it is to spoil everything for him.  Pish!  I recognise no devil if there be a good God; you may depend upon that.  I should very much like to see the devil.  Ha, ha!  I am not afraid of his claws!”

“And if I were of your opinion I should have no care of my very youthful years in which I held confessions at least ten times a day.”

“Confess again, Mr. Canon.  I assure you that will be a precious merit on high.”

“There, there!  Do you mean it?”

“Yes, Mr. Canon.”

“Thou dost not tremble, Chiquon, to deny the devil?”

“I trouble no more about it than a sheaf of corn.”

“The doctrine will bring misfortune upon you.”

“By no means.  God will defend me from the devil because I believe him more learned and less stupid than the savans make him out.”

Thereupon the two other nephews entered, and perceiving from the voice of the canon that he did not dislike Chiquon very much, and that the jeremiads which he had made concerning him were simple tricks to disguise the affection which he bore him, looked at each other in great astonishment.

Then, seeing their uncle laughing, they said to him—­

“If you will make a will, to whom will you leave the house?

“To Chiquon.”

“And the quit rent of the Rue St. Denys?”

“To Chiquon.”

“And the fief of Ville Parisis?”

“To Chiquon.”

“But,” said the captain, with his big voice, “everything then will be Chiquon’s.”

“No,” replied the canon, smiling, “because I shall have made my will in proper form, the inheritance will be to the sharpest of you three; I am so near to the future, that I can therein see clearly your destinies.”

And the wily canon cast upon Chiquon a glance full of malice, like a decoy bird would have thrown upon a little one to draw him into her net.  The fire of his flaming eye enlightened the shepherd, who from that moment had his understanding and his ears all unfogged, and his brain open, like that of a maiden the day after her marriage.  The procureur and the captain, taking these sayings for gospel prophecies, made their bow and went out from the house, quite perplexed at the absurd designs of the canon.

“What do you think of Chiquon?” said Pille-grue to Mau-cinge.

“I think, I think,” said the soldier, growling, “that I think of hiding myself in the Rue d’Hierusalem, to put his head below his feet; he can pick it up again if he likes.”

“Oh, oh!” said the procureur, “you have a way of wounding that is easily recognised, and people would say ‘It’s Cochegrue.’  As for me, I thought to invite him to dinner, after which, we would play at putting ourselves in a sack in order to see, as they do at Court, who could walk best thus attired.  Then having sewn him up, we could throw him into the Seine, at the same time begging him to swim.”