rabbit, goose, or a tender poulet or a capon. He is a drunkard and
evil liver!"

"Don't doubt about that," said the priest.

"But if ever he dares to come over my threshold again, I'll drive
him out with a broomstick."

"And you'll do well by it," said the priest; "that Capuchin is an
ass, and he taught your son rather to bray than to talk. You'll act
wisely by throwing into the fire that 'Life of St Catherine,' that
prayer for the cure of chilblains and that history of the bugbear,
with which that monk poisoned your son's mind. For the same price
you paid for Friar Ange's lessons, I'll give him my own; I'll teach
him Latin and Greek, and French also, that language which Voiture
and Balzac have brought to perfection. And in such way, by a luck
doubly singular and favourable, this Jacquot Tournebroche will
become learned and I shall eat every day,"

"Agreed!" said my father. "Barbara, bring two goblets. No business
is concluded without the contracting parties having a drink together
as a token of agreement. We will drink here. I'll never in my life
put my legs into the _Little Bacchus_ again, so repugnant have
that cutler and that monk become to me."

The priest rose and, putting his hands on the back of his chair,
said in a slow and serious manner:

"Before all, I thank God, the Creator and Conserver of all things,
for having guided me into this hospitable house. It is He alone who