dining-hall in the château, full of decanters that sparkle with wine of
every color. And the silver dishes, above all the ornamented ones; the
flowers; the candlesticks! I never saw anything to equal it. Monsieur
the Marquis has invited all the nobility of the neighborhood. You will
be at least forty at table, without counting either the bailiff or the
notary. Ah! it will make you very happy to be there, reverend Father.
Why, only to smell the delicious turkeys--the odor of truffles pursues
me even yet. Muh!"

"Come, come, Garrigou, you must guard against the sin of greediness, and
especially on the night of the Nativity. Quickly, now, light the candles
and sound the first bell for Mass; midnight is very near, and we must
not be late."

This conversation was held on Christmas night, in the year of grace
sixteen hundred and sixteen, between the reverend Dom Balaguère,
formerly prior of Barnabites, now chaplain in the service of the Sires
de Trinquelague, and his clerk Garrigou; or at least what he supposed
was his clerk Garrigou, because you will learn that the devil had that
night taken on the round face and wavering traits of the young
sacristan, the better to tempt the reverend Father to commit the
dreadful sin of gluttony. Now, while the supposed Garrigou (hum! hum!)
rung, with all his might, the bells of the seignorial chapel, the
reverend Father put on his chasuble in the little sacristy of the
château; and, his mind already becoming troubled by the gastronomic
descriptions he had heard, he repeated to himself:

"Roasted turkeys; golden carp; trout as large as that!"

Outside, the night wind blew, scattering the music of the bells, and one