chins dropped majestically on a neckband which, maybe by sympathy,
had become as greasy as the throat it enveloped.

My father, courteous by profession, lifted his cap and bowing said:

"If your reverence will be so good as to warm yourself near the
fire, I'll soon serve you with what you desire."

Without any further preamble the priest took a seat near the fire by
the side of the Capuchin friar.

Hearing the good friar reading aloud:

"Pucelle sage, nette et fine,
Aide des femnies en gesine,"

he clapped his hands and said:

"Oh, the rare bird! The unique man! A Capuchin who is able to read!
Eh, little friar, what is your name?"

"Friar Ange, an unworthy Capuchin," replied my teacher.

My mother, hearing the voices from the upper room descended to the
shop, attracted by curiosity.

The priest greeted her with an already familiar politeness and said:

"That is really wonderful, mistress; Friar Ange is a Capuchin and
knows how to read."