ointments to be
made with his regular councillors, his two grand vicars, the dean of the
chapter, the secretary-general of the palace, and the director of the
great academy. After he had appointed several vicars and priests he made
this suggestion:

"Gentlemen of the council, I have in mind a candidate suitable in all
respects for the parish of X------; but I think it would be well, at
least, to offer that charge and that honor to one of our oldest priests,
the abbe of St. Philemon. He will undoubtedly refuse it, and his modesty,
no less than his age, will be the cause; but we shall have shown, as far
as we could, our appreciation of his virtues."

The five councilors approved unanimously, and that very evening a letter
was sent from the palace, signed by the bishop, and which contained in a
postscript: "Answer at once, my dear abbe; or, better, come to see me,
because I must submit my appointments to the government within three
days."

The letter arrived at St. Philemon the very day the tomtits were hatched.
The postman had difficulty in slipping it into the slit of the box, but it
disappeared inside and lay touching the base of the nest, like a white
pavement at the bottom of the dark chamber.

The time came when the tiny points on the wings of the little tomtits
began to be covered with down. There were fourteen of them, and they
twittered and staggered on their little feet, with their beaks open up to
their eyes, never ceasing, from morning till night, to wait for food, eat
it, digest it, and demand more. That was the first period, when the baby
birds hadn't any sense. But in birds it doesn't last long. Very soon they
quarrelled in the nest, which began to break with the fluttering of their
wings, then they tumbled out of it and walked along the side of the box,
peeped through the slit at the big world outside, and at last they
ventured out.

The abbe of St. Philemon, with a neighboring priest, attended this
pleasant garden party. When the little ones appeared beneath the roof of
the box--two, three--together and took their flight, came back, started
again, like bees at the door of a hive, he said:

"Behold, a babyhood ended and a good work accomplished. They are hardy and
strong, every one."

The next day, during his hour of leisure after dinner, the abbe came to
the box with the key in his hand. "Tap, tap," he went. There was no
answer. "I thought so," said he. Then he opened the box and, mingled with
the