y, and, although he felt himself to be in hostile
quarters, took the seat offered him with an easy air.

Meanwhile his bearing and pleasant look produced their usual effect.

Imbued with the theories of the army, which of all surroundings is that in
which one judges most by the appearance, where a good carriage is the first
condition of success, where in fact they salute the stripes and not the
man, the Captain was, in presence of this handsome young fellow, recalled
to less aggressive sentiments.

--Hang it! he said to himself, what a splendid cuirassier this fellow would
have made! What devil of an idea has shoved him into a cassock?

War being the most sublime of arts, as Maurice de Saxe remarked, there are
few old officers who understand how a man can choose another profession by
inclination.

--I come, Monsieur le Capitaine, said Marcel, to pay you my visit as
pastor, although perhaps a little late. But you are aware doubtless that I
have had the honour of knocking once already at your door.

--You should not have troubled yourself, my dear sir, and you should adhere
to that; I belong so little to the holy flock.

--I owe myself to all, said Marcel smiling, to the bad sheep--I mean to the
wandering sheep, just as to the good ones; to watch over the one, to bring
back and cure the others.

--Oh! Oh! Well, sir shepherd, you are losing your time finely, for I am a
worn-out goat.

--There will be more joys in heaven over one sinner that repenteth....

--That is the story of the 99 just persons that you are going to tell us;
we know it, and, let me tell you, it is not encouraging for the 99 just
persons.

The Cure, seeing himself on dangerous ground, hastened to leap elsewhere.

--This is a charming little house, Captain; it is a sweet retreat after
toilsome and glorious years, for you have had numerous campaigns, have you
not?

--Fifteen years in Africa, thirty-two campaigns, thirty years' service, two
wounds, one of them received at Rome when we fought for that old bully Pius
IX.

Marcel had gone astray again; he quickly seized hold of the wounds.

--Ah! two wounds! And are they still painful?

--Sometimes, when the weather is stormy. And yours?

--Mine, Captain! but I have none. I have not had like you the honour of
shedding any blood for our Holy Father.

--A pretty cuckoo. It doesn't matter, you may have got a wound somewhere
else.

--Where? enquired Marcel simply.

--How do I know? We get