the externals of greatness, nor for displaying that majesty so prized
by the ancients but so often lacking to the administrators of modern
power.

By one of those strange freaks of circumstance which are never
accounted for, the other vicar-general, the Abbe de Grancour, a stout
little man with a rosy complexion and blue eyes, whose opinions were
diametrically opposed to those of the Abbe Dutheil, liked to be in the
latter's company, although he never testified this liking enough to
put himself out of the good graces of the bishop, to whom he would
have sacrificed everything. The Abbe de Grancour believed in the merit
of his colleague, recognized his talents, secretly accepted his
doctrines, and condemned them openly; for the little priest was one of
those men whom superiority attracts and intimidates,--who dislike it
and yet cultivate it. "He would embrace me and condemn me," the Abbe
Dutheil said of him. The Abbe de Grancour had neither friends nor
enemies; he was therefore likely to live and die a vicar-general. He
said he was drawn to visit Madame Graslin by the desire of counselling
so religious and benevolent a person; and the bishop approved of his
doing so,--Monsieur de Grancour's real object being to spend a few
evenings with the Abbe Dutheil in Veronique's salon.

The two priests now came pretty regularly to see Madame Graslin, and
make her a sort of report about her poor and discuss the best means of
succoring and improving them. But Monsieur Graslin had now begun to
tighten his purse-strings, having made the discovery, in spite of the
innocent deceptions of his wife and her maid, that the money he paid
did not go solely for household expenses and for dress. He was angry
when he found out how much money his wife's charities cost him; he
called the cook to account, inquired into all the details of the