The young abbe took the hands of the older priest and pressed them
cordially.

"Forgive me, monsieur," he said, suddenly making amends with a look in
his beautiful blue eyes which went to the depths of the rector's soul.
"Monseigneur told me to test your patience and your modesty, but I
can't go any further; I see already how much injustice the praises of
the liberals have done you."

Breakfast was ready; fresh eggs, butter, honey, fruits, cream, and
coffee were served by Ursule in the midst of flowers, on a white cloth
laid upon the antique table in that old dining-room. The window which
looked upon the terrace was open; clematis, with its white stars
relieved in the centre by the yellow bunch of their crisped stamens,
clasped the railing. A jasmine ran up one side, nasturtiums clambered
over the other. Above, the reddening foliage of a vine made a rich
border that no sculptor could have rendered, so exquisite was the
tracery of its lace-work against the light.

"Life is here reduced, you see, to its simplest expression," said the
rector, smiling, though his face did not lose the look which the
sadness of his heart conveyed to it. "If we had known of your arrival
(but who could have foreseen your errand?) Ursule would have had some
mountain trout for you; there's a brook in the forest where they are
excellent. I forget, however, that this is August and the Gabou is
dry. My head is confused with all these troubles."

"Then you like your life here?" said the young abbe.

"Yes, monsieur; if God wills, I shall die rector of Montegnac. I could