there in saying sharp words to one who can't feel them? The doctor and
the priest had far too much taste and had seen too much of good
society not to practice its precepts; they were thus well-fitted for
the little warfare so essential to conversation. They hated each
other's opinions, but they valued each other's character. If such
conflicts and such sympathies are not true elements of intimacy we
must surely despair of society, which, especially in France, requires
some form of antagonism. It is from the shock of characters, and not
from the struggle of opinions, that antipathies are generated.

The Abbe Chaperon became, therefore, the doctor's chief friend. This
excellent ecclesiastic, then sixty years of age, had been curate of
Nemours ever since the re-establishment of Catholic worship. Out of
attachment to his flock he had refused the vicariat of the diocese. If
those who were indifferent to religion thought well of him for so
doing, the faithful loved him the more for it. So, revered by his
sheep, respected by the inhabitants at large, the abbe did good
without inquiring into the religious opinions of those he benefited.
His parsonage, with scarcely furniture enough for the common needs of
life, was cold and shabby, like the lodging of a miser. Charity and
avarice manifest themselves in the same way; charity lays up a
treasure in heaven which avarice lays up on earth. The Abbe Chaperon
argued with his servant over expenses even more sharply than Gobseck
with his--if indeed that famous Jew kept a servant at all. The good
priest often sold the buckles off his shoes and his breeches to give
their value to some poor person who appealed to him at a moment when
he had not a penny. When he was seen coming out of church with the
straps of his breeches tied into the button-holes, devout women would
redeem the buckles from the clock-maker and jeweler of the town and
return them to their pastor with a lecture. He never bought himself