ty. He confesses that you rescued him from his misery, but he says
that you traitorously took possession of the girl, associating her with
two other mistresses you had at that time. In fine, he says that you lay
with her before his eyes, and that you drove him from Marseilles that you
might be able to enjoy her with greater freedom.

"He finished his story by saying that as he could not go back to Venice,
he needed our help till he could find some means of living on his talents
or through his profession as a priest. I asked him what his talents were,
and he said he could teach Italian; but as he speaks it vilely, and
doesn't know a word of French, we laughed at him. We were therefore
reduced to seeing what we could do for him in his character of priest,
and the very next day my wife spoke to M. de Sauci, the ecclesiastical
commissioner, begging him to give my brother an introduction to the
Archbishop of Paris, who might give him something that might lead to his
obtaining a good benefice. He would have to go to our parish church, and
I spoke to the rector of St. Sauveur, who promised to let him say mass,
for which he would receive the usual sum of twelve sols. This was a very
good beginning, and might have led to something worth having; but when we
told the worthy abbe of our success, he got into a rage, saying that he
was not the man to say mass for twelve sols, nor to toady the archbishop
in the hope of being taken into his service. No, he was not going to be
in anyone's service. We concealed our indignation, but for the three
weeks he has been here he has turned everything upside down. My wife's
maid left us yesterday, to our great annoyance, because of him; and the
cook says she will go if he remains, as he is always bothering her in the
kitchen. We are therefore resolved that he shall go, for his society is
intolerable to us. I am delighted to have you here, as I think we ought
to be able to drive him away between us, and the sooner the better."

"Nothing easier," said I; "if he likes to stay in Paris, let him do so.
You can send off his rags to some furnished apartments, and serve him
with a police order not to put foot in your house again. On the other
hand if he wants to go away, let him say where, and I will pay his
journey-money this evening."

"Nothing could be more generous. What do you say, abbe?"

"I say that this is the way in which he drove me from Marseilles. What
intolerable violence!"

"Give God th