nothing vulgar nor idle in this light talk, which I would compare, for
its effect on the soul, to Rossini's music.

"The Abbe Gaudron was, as M. de Grandville said, a Saint Peter rather
than a Saint Paul, a peasant full of faith, as square on his feet as
he was tall, a sacerdotal of whose ignorance in matters of the world
and of literature enlivened the conversation by guileless amazement
and unexpected questions. They came to talking of one of the plague
spots of social life, of which we were just now speaking--adultery. My
uncle remarked on the contradiction which the legislators of the Code,
still feeling the blows of the revolutionary storm, had established
between civil and religious law, and which he said was at the root of
all the mischief.

"'In the eyes of the Church,' said he, 'adultery is a crime; in those
of your tribunals it is a misdemeanor. Adultery drives to the police
court in a carriage instead of standing at the bar to be tried.
Napoleon's Council of State, touched with tenderness towards erring
women, was quite inefficient. Ought they not in this case to have
harmonized the civil and the religious law, and have sent the guilty
wife to a convent, as of old?'

"'To a convent!' said M. de Serizy. 'They must first have created
convents, and in those days monasteries were being turned into
barracks. Besides, think of what you say, M. l'Abbe--give to God what
society would have none of?'

"'Oh!' said the Comte de Grandville, 'you do not know France. They
were obliged to leave the husband free to take proceedings: well,
there are not ten cases of adultery brought up in a year.'