old house. From this moment, my father became
more ill than ever, he took fever and was confined to
his bed, and in his delirium he repeated without end:
"Put the horses to, Felix, put the horses to, for I
want to go to Alenc,on to get some news of Jean!"
He imagined himself starting out on the road. "Gid
up, gid up, Bichette, gid up, come on! . . . We are
going to have some news of Jean this evening. . . .
Gid up, gid up, come on! . . And my poor father
gently breathed his last in the arms of the cure
Blanchetiere, surrounded by Felix and Marie who were sobbing! . . . After a six months' stay at the Priory, now sadder than ever, I was weary to death. . . Old Marie, accustomed to manage the house according
to her own notions, was unbearable to me; in spite of
her devotion, her whims exasperated me, and there
always were long altercations in which I never had
the last word. For my only company I had the good
cure to whom nothing appealed as much as the profession of a notary. From morning till night he used to lecture to me thus:
"Your grandfather was a notary, so was your father, your uncles, your cousins, in fact your whole family. . . . You owe it to yourself, my dear child, not to desert your post. You shall be Mayor of Saint-Michel, you may even hope to replace your poor father at the general council, in a few years. . . . Why man alive, that's something! And then take my word for it times are going to be pretty hard for decent people who love the good Lord. . . . You see that rascal Lebecq, he is municipal counsellor. All he thinks of is how to rob and kill people, that brigand there. . . . We need at the head of our country a right-minded man to uphold religion and defend the principles of righteousness. . . . Paris, Paris! . . . Oh! these silly heads, those youngsters! . . . But will you
