The priest put down his cup.

'Yes, I must have forgotten, I believe,' he said.

La Teuse stared at him and shrugged her shoulders. She folded up inside
the napkin a slice of stale home-made bread which had also been left
untouched on the table. Then just as the priest was about to go out, she
ran after him and knelt down at his feet, exclaiming: 'Stop, your
shoe-laces are not even fastened. I cannot imagine how your feet can
stand those peasant shoes, you're such a little, tender man and look as
if you had been preciously spoilt! Ah, the bishop must have known a deal
about you, to go and give you the poorest living in the department.'

'But it was I who chose Les Artaud,' said the priest, breaking into
another smile. 'You are very bad-tempered this morning, La Teuse. Are we
not happy here? We have got all we want, and our life is as peaceful as
if in paradise.'

She then restrained herself and laughed in her turn, saying: 'You are a
holy man, Monsieur le Cure. But come and see what a splendid wash I have
got. That will be better than squabbling with one another.'

The priest was obliged to follow, for she might prevent him going out
at all if he did not compliment her on her washing. As he left the
dining-room he stumbled over a heap of rubbish in the passage.

'What is this?' he asked.

Oh, nothing,' said La Teuse in her grimest tone. 'It's only the