“All that an honest man can have against a monster.  I have read the letter you wrote to Possano, in which I am styled a cheat, a spy, a coiner, and a poisoner.  What does the abbe think of that?”

He sat down to table without a word, and my brother began as follows: 

“When this fine gentleman first came here, my wife and I gave him a most cordial welcome.  I allowed him a nice room, and told him to look upon my house as his own.  Possibly with the idea of interesting us in his favour, he began by saying that you were the greatest rascal in the world.  To prove it he told us how he had carried off a girl from Venice with the idea of marrying her, and went to you at Genoa as he was in great necessity.  He confesses that you rescued him from his misery, but he says that you traitorously took possession of the girl, associating her with two other mistresses you had at that time.  In fine, he says that you lay with her before his eyes, and that you drove him from Marseilles that you might be able to enjoy her with greater freedom.

“He finished his story by saying that as he could not go back to Venice, he needed our help till he could find some means of living on his talents or through his profession as a priest.  I asked him what his talents were, and he said he could teach Italian; but as he speaks it vilely, and doesn’t know a word of French, we laughed at him.  We were therefore reduced to seeing what we could do for him in his character of priest, and the very next day my wife spoke to M. de Sauci, the ecclesiastical commissioner, begging him to give my brother an introduction to the Archbishop of Paris, who might give him something that might lead to his obtaining a good benefice.  He would have to go to our parish church, and I spoke to the rector of St. Sauveur, who promised to let him say mass, for which he would receive the usual sum of twelve sols.  This was a very good beginning, and might have led to something worth having; but when we told the worthy abbe of our success, he got into a rage, saying that he was not the man to say mass for twelve sols, nor to toady the archbishop in the hope of being taken into his service.  No, he was not going to be in anyone’s service.  We concealed our indignation, but for the three weeks he has been here he has turned everything upside down.  My wife’s maid left us yesterday, to our great annoyance, because of him; and the cook says she will go if he remains, as he is always bothering her in the kitchen.  We are therefore resolved that he shall go, for his society is intolerable to us.  I am delighted to have you here, as I think we ought to be able to drive him away between us, and the sooner the better.”

“Nothing easier,” said I; “if he likes to stay in Paris, let him do so.  You can send off his rags to some furnished apartments, and serve him with a police order not to put foot in your house again.  On the other hand if he wants to go away, let him say where, and I will pay his journey-money this evening.”