breathing the fragrance of the flowers and
looking at the sun. I asked her to sing, and she did so with good grace.
In the mean time I leaned on the window-sill and watched the birds
flitting about the garden. A saying of Montaigne's came into my head: "I
neither love nor esteem sadness, although the world has invested it, at
a given price, with the honor of its particular favor. They dress up in
it wisdom, virtue, conscience. Stupid and absurd adornment."

"What happiness!" I cried, in spite of myself. "What repose! What joy!
What forgetfulness of self!"

The good aunt raised her head and looked at me with an air of
astonishment; Madame Pierson stopped short. I became red as fire when
conscious of my folly, and sat down without a word.

We went out into the garden. The white goat I had seen the evening
before was lying in the grass; it came up to her and followed us about
the garden.

When we reached the end of the garden walk, a large young man with a
pale face, clad in a kind of black cassock, suddenly appeared at the
railing. He entered without knocking and bowed to Madame Pierson; it
seemed to me that his face, which I considered a bad omen, darkened a
little when he saw me. He was a priest I had often seen in the village,
and his name was Mercanson; he came from St. Sulpice and was related to
the cure of the parish.

He was large and at the same time pale, a thing which always displeases
me and which is, in fact, unpleasant; it impresses me as a sort of
diseased healthfulness. Moreover, he had the slow yet jerky way of
speaking that characterizes the pedant. Even his manner of walking,
which was not that of youth and health, repelled me; as for his glance,
it might be said that he had none. I do not know what to think of a man
whose eyes have nothing to say. These are the signs which led me to an
unfavorable opinion of Mercanson, an opinion which was unfortunately
correct.

He sat down on a bench and began to talk about Paris, which he called
the modern Babylon. He had been there, he knew every one; he knew Madame
de B------, who was an angel; he had preached sermons in her salon
and was listened to on bended knee. (The worst of this was that it
was true.) One of his friends, who had introduced him there, had been
expelled from school for having seduced a girl; a terrible thing to
do, very sad. He paid Madame Pierson a thousand compliments for
her charitable deeds throughout the country; he had heard of her