catches everywhere as one
comes and goes. Figure my astonishment when I heard from the lips of my
good mother the same words with which that good-for-nothing Jacques
Richard had made the profession of his brutal faith. 'Go!' she cried, in
anger; 'you are all the same. Money is your god. _De grosses pieces_,
that is all you think of in these days.'

'_Eh, bien,_ madame,' said the peasant; 'and if so, what then? Don't you
others, gentlemen and ladies, do just the same? What is there in the
world but money to think of? If it is a question of marriage, you demand
what is the _dot_; if it is a question of office, you ask, Monsieur
Untel, is he rich? And it is perfectly just. We know what money can do;
but as for _le bon Dieu_, whom our grandmothers used to talk about--'

And lo! our _gros paysan_ made exactly the same gesture as Jean Pierre.
He put up his shoulders to his ears, and spread out the palms of his
hands, as who should say, There is nothing further to be said.

Then there occurred a still more remarkable repetition. My mother, as
may be supposed, being a very respectable person, and more or less
_devote_, grew red with indignation and horror.

'Oh, these poor grandmothers!' she cried; 'God give them rest! It is
enough to make the dead rise out of their graves.'

'Oh, I will answer for _les morts_! they will give nobody any trouble,'
he said with a laugh. I went in and reproved the man severely, finding
that, as I supposed, he had attempted to cheat my good mother in the
price of the wood. Fortunately she had been quite as clever as he was.
She went upstairs shaking her head, while I gave the man to understand
that no one should speak to her but with the profoundest respect in my
house. 'She has her opinions, like all respectable ladies,' I said,
'but under this roof these opinions shall always be sacred.' And, to do
him justice, I will add that when it was put to him in this way
Gros-Jean was ashamed of himself.

When I talked over these incidents with my wife, as we gave each other
the narrative of our day's experiences, she was greatly distressed, as
may be supposed. 'I try to hope they are not so bad as Bonne Maman
thinks. But oh, _mon ami!_' she said, 'what will the world come to if
this is what they really believe?'

'Take courage,' I said; 'the world will never come to anything much
different from what it is. So long as there are _des anges_ like thee to
pray for us, the scale will not go down to the