reflections.

"Oh, you wouldn't if you had to live here," said the good wife. "We have
plenty of room, too much room, because there are a couple of bedchambers
as big as this, besides plenty of closet space, but it's so
inconvenient--and so cold! And no kitchen--" and she pointed to a
landing where, blocking the stairway, the cook stove had had to be
installed. "And there are so many, many steps to go up when you come
back from market. I am getting old, and I have a twinge of the
rheumatics whenever I think about making the climb."

"You can't even drive a nail into this rock wall and have a peg to hang
things on," said Carhaix. "But I like this place. I was made for it. Now
my wife dreams constantly of spending her last days in Landévennec."

Des Hermies rose. All shook hands, and monsieur and madame made Durtal
swear that he would come again.

"What refreshing people!" exclaimed Durtal as he and Des Hermies crossed
the square.

"And Carhaix is a mine of information."

"But tell me, what the devil is an educated man, of no ordinary
intelligence, doing, working as a--as a day labourer?"

"If Carhaix could hear you! But, my friend, in the Middle Ages
bell-ringers were high officials. True, the craft has declined
considerably in modern times. I couldn't tell you myself how Carhaix
became hipped on the subject of bells. All I know is that he studied at