llard again, who is the son of a
journeyman baker.

--He has that in common with Pope Benedict XII.

--Yes, but he has that only. Therefore, since it is neither his birth, nor
his genius, nor his virtues which have helped him on, it is then something
else.

--In fact, ecclesiastical history abounds in similar instances. Men,
starting from the most humble condition, have attained the supreme dignity:
Benedict XI had tended sheep, the great Sixtus V was a swineherd, Urban VI
was the son of a cobbler, Alexander V had been a beggar.

--And a host of others of the same feather. Well, that ought to encourage
you who are the son neither of a cobbler, or of a pig-seller.

--Would to heaven that I were a cobbler or a shepherd myself; I could have
married according to my taste and have become the worthy father of a
family, an honest artisan rather than a bad Cure.

--Yes, but Mademoiselle Durand would not have wanted you.

--Oh, uncle, do not speak of that young person with whom you are not
acquainted, and regarding whom you are strangely mistaken, for you see her
through the dirty spectacles of my servant. You want to take me away on her
account, but are there not young persons everywhere? You know, as well as
I, to what dangers young priests are exposed; shall I be safe from those
dangers by going away? No. And since it is agreed between us that, no more
than others, can we avoid certain necessities of nature....

-Alas, alas, human infirmity!

Omnia vincit amor, et nos cadamus amori.

--Then....

--Then, we choose our company; for instance, that pretty girl there.

And Ridoux leant his head out of the door. They had just reached Vic, where
they changed horses.

LXXX.

AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE.

"Methinks Queen Mab upon your cheek
Doth blend the tints of cream and rose.
And lends the pearls which deck her hat
And rubies too from off her gown,
To be your own fit ornament."

E. DARIO (_Strophes_).

Before the _Hotel des Messageries_, a young girl, modestly dressed, was
waiting for the _diligence_, with an old band-box in her hand.

Marcel, who had also put his head out of the coach-door, looked at her with
surprise. He had seen this girl somewhere. Yes, he remembered her. He had
seen that charming countenance, he had already admired that fair hair and
those blue eyes. But the face had grown pale; the cheeks had lost their
freshness with the sun-burn, and the bosom its opulence. Marcel thou