"Do you know the name, my father?" asked Madame de Lamotte eagerly.

"Edouard had already told me," said the monk, approaching Derues.

"You live in the, rue Beaubourg, and you are Monsieur Derues, formerly a
retail grocer?"

"The same, my brother."

"Should you require a reference, I can give it. Chance, madame, has made
you acquainted with a man whose, reputation for piety and honour is well
established; he will permit me to add my praises to yours."

"Indeed, I do not know how I deserve so much honour."

"I am, Brother Marchois, of the Camaldulian order. You see that I know
you well."

The monk then proceeded to explain that his community had confided their
affairs to Derues' honesty, he undertaking to dispose of the articles
manufactured by the monks in their retreat. He then recounted a number
of good actions and of marks of piety, which were heard with pleasure and
admiration by those present. Derues received this cloud of incense with
an appearance of sincere modesty and humility, which would have deceived
the most skilful physiognomist.

When the eulogistic warmth of the good brother began to slacken it was
already nearly dark, and the two priests had barely time to regain the
presbytery without incurring the risk of breaking their necks in the
rough road which led to it. They departed at once, and a room was got