“A thousand thanks,” replied the Abbe Pernot, making a slight grimace; “I am not much of a reader, and my little stock is sufficient for my needs.  You remember what is said in the Imitation:  ’Si scires totam Bibliam exterius et omnium philosophorum dicta, quid totum prodesset sine caritate Dei et gratia?’ Besides, it gives me a headache to read too steadily.  I require exercise in the open air.  Do you hunt or fish, Monsieur de Buxieres?”

“Neither the one nor the other.”

“So much the worse for you.  You will find the time hang very heavily on your hands in this country, where there are so few sources of amusement.  But never fear!  You can not be always reading, and when the fine weather comes you will yield to the temptation; all the more likely because you have Claudet Sejournant with you.  A jolly fellow he is; there is not one like him for killing a snipe or sticking a trout!  Our trout here on the Aubette, Monsieur de Buxieres, are excellent—­of the salmon kind, and very meaty.”

Then came an interval of silence.  The Abbe began to suspect that this conversation was not one of profound interest to his visitor, and he resumed: 

“Speaking of Claudet, Monsieur, allow me to offer you my congratulations.  You have acted in a most Christian-like and equitable manner, in making amends for the inconceivable negligence of the deceased Claude de Buxieres.  Then, on the other hand, Claudet deserves what you have done for him.  He is a good fellow, a little too quick-tempered and violent perhaps, but he has a heart of gold.  Ah! it would have been no use for the deceased to deny it—­the blood of de Buxieres runs in his veins!”

“If public rumor is to be believed,” said Julien timidly, rising to go, “my deceased cousin Claude was very much addicted to profane pleasures.”

“Yes, yes, indeed!” sighed the Abbe, “he was a devil incarnate—­but what a magnificent man!  What a wonderful huntsman!  Notwithstanding his backslidings, there was a great deal of good in him, and I am fain to believe that God has taken him under His protecting mercy.”

Julien took his leave, and returned to the chateau, very much discouraged.  “This priest,” thought he to himself, “is a man of expediency.  He allows himself certain indulgences which are to be regretted, and his mind is becoming clogged by continual association with carnal-minded men.  His thoughts are too much given to earthly things, and I have no more faith in him than in the rest of them.”

So he shut himself up again in his solitude, with one more illusion destroyed.  He asked himself, and his heart became heavy at the thought, whether, in course of time, he also would undergo this stultification, this moral depression, which ends by lowering us to the level of the low-minded people among whom we live.