the strong women of the scripture. She is a godly wife."

"Thank God!" said my mother, "I have never been a traitor to the
faithfulness I owe unto Leonard Menetrier, my husband, and I reckon
well, now that the most difficult part is passed, not to fail him
till my last hour is come. I wish he would keep his faith to me as I
keep mine to him."

"Madam, when first I looked on you I could see you to be an honest
woman," replied the priest, "because I have experienced near you a
quietude more connected with heaven than with this world."

My mother, who was simple-minded, but not stupid, understood very
well what he wanted to say, and replied that if he had known her
twenty years ago, he would have found her to be quite another than
she had become in this cookshop, where her good looks had vanished
with the fire of the spit and the fumes of the dishes. And as she
was touched she mentioned that the baker at Auneau had found her to
be so much to his liking that he had offered her cakes every time
she passed his shop. "Besides," she added angrily, "there is neither
girl nor woman ugly enough to be incapable of doing wrong if she had
a fancy to do it."

"This good woman is right," said my father. "I remember when I was a
prentice at the cookshop of the _Royal Goose_ near the Gate of
St Denis, my master, who was then the banner-bearer of the guild, as
I myself am to-day, said to me: 'I'll never be a cuckold, my wife is
too ugly.' This saying gave me the idea to attempt what he thought
to be impossible. I succeeded at my first attempt, one morning when
he went to La Vallee. He spoke the truth, his wife was very ugly,