wrong side.'

I said this, of course, to please my Agnes, who is the best of wives;
but on thinking it over after, I could not but be struck with the
extreme justice (not to speak of the beauty of the sentiment) of this
thought. The _bon Dieu_--if, indeed, that great Being is as represented
to us by the Church--must naturally care as much for one-half of His
creatures as for the other, though they have not the same weight in the
world; and consequently the faith of the women must hold the balance
straight, especially if, as is said, they exceed us in point of numbers.
This leaves a little margin for those of them who profess the same
freedom of thought as is generally accorded to men--a class, I must add,
which I abominate from the bottom of my heart.

I need not dwell upon other little scenes which impressed the same idea
still more upon my mind. Semur, I need not say, is not the centre of the
world, and might, therefore, be supposed likely to escape the full
current of worldliness. We amuse ourselves little, and we have not any
opportunity of rising to the heights of ambition; for our town is not
even the _chef-lieu_ of the department,--though this is a subject upon
which I cannot trust myself to speak. Figure to yourself that La
Rochette--a place of yesterday, without either the beauty or the
antiquity of Semur--has been chosen as the centre of affairs, the
residence of M. le Prefet! But I will not enter upon this question. What
I was saying was, that, notwithstanding the fact that we amuse ourselves
but little, that there is no theatre to speak of, little society, few
distractions, and none of those inducements to strive for gain and to
indulge the senses, which exist, for instance, in Paris--that capital of
the world--yet, nevertheless, the thirst for money and for pleasure has
increased among us to an extent which I cannot but consider alarming.
Gros-Jean, our peasant, toils for money, and hoards; Jacques, who is a
cooper and maker of wine casks, gains and drinks; Jean Pierre snatches
at every sous that comes in his way, and spends it in yet worse
dissipations. He is one who quails when he meets my eye; he sins _en
cachette_; but Jacques is bold, and defies opinion; and Gros-Jean is
firm in the belief that to hoard money is the highest of mortal
occupations. These three are types of what the population is at Semur.
The men would all sell their souls for a _grosse piece_ of fifty
sous--indeed, they would laugh, a