The old man huddled up at the end of the seat--no other than the
treasure-seeking grandfather whom we saw the day of our
arrival--came nearer and lifted his finger. "When I was a young
man, I was thought a lot of by women," he asserted, shaking his
head. "I have led young ladies astray!"

"Ah!" said we, heedless, our attention taken away from his senile
prattle by the timely noise of a cart that was passing, laden and
laboring.

"Nowadays," the old man went on, "I only think about money."

"Ah, oui, the treasure you're looking for, papa."

"That's it," said the old rustic, though he felt the skepticism
around him. He tapped his cranium with his forefinger, which he then
extended towards the house. "Take that insect there," he said,
indicating a little beast that ran along the plaster. "What does it
say? It says, 'I am the spider that spins the Virgin's thread.'" And
the archaic simpleton added, "One must never judge what people do,
for one can never tell what may happen."

"That's true," replied Paradis politely. "He's funny," said Mesnil
Andre, between his teeth, while he sought the mirror in his
pocket to look at the facial benefit of fine weather. "He's crazy,"
murmured Barque in his ecstasy.

"I leave you," said the old man, yielding in annoyance.