de it laugh.

Rosalie, who was beginning to find the priest's address rather tedious,
turned her head to smile at the child. But, when she saw it kicking
about on the chair, she grew alarmed, and cast an angry look at
Catherine.

'Oh! you can look at me as much as you like,' said Catherine. 'I'm not
going to take it any more. It would only begin to cry again.'

And she turned aside to ferret in an ant-hole at a corner of one of the
stone flags under the gallery.

'Monsieur Caffin didn't talk so long,' now remarked La Rousse. 'When he
married Miette, he just gave her two taps on the cheek and told her to
be good.'

My dear brother,' resumed Abbe Mouret, turning towards big Fortune, 'it
is God who, to-day, gives you a companion, for He does not wish that man
should live alone. But, if He ordains that she shall be your servant,
He demands from you that you shall be to her a master full of gentleness
and love. You will love her, because she is part of your own flesh, of
your own blood, and your own bone. You will protect her, because God has
given you strong arms only that you may stretch them over her head in
the hour of danger. Remember that she is entrusted to you, and that
you cannot abuse her submission and weakness without sin. Oh! my dear
brother, what proud happiness should be yours! Henceforth, you will no
longer live in the selfish egotism of solitude. At all hours you will
have a lovable duty before you. There is nothing better than to love,
unless it be to protect those whom we love. Your heart will expand;
your manly strength will increase a hundredfold. Oh! to be a support and
stay, to have a love given into your keeping, to see a being sink her
existence in yours and say, "Take me and do with me what you will! I
trust myself wholly to you!" And may you be accursed if you ever abandon
her! It would be a cowardly desertion which God would assuredly punish.
From the moment she gives herself to you, she becomes yours for ever.
Carry her rather in your arms, and set her not upon the ground until it
be certain that she will be there in safety. Give up everything, my dear
brother--'

But here the Abbe's voice faltered, and only an indistinct murmur came
from his lips. He had quite closed his eyes, his face was deathly white,
and his voice betokened such deep distress that big Fortune himself shed
tears without knowing why.

'He hasn't recovered yet,' said Lisa. 'It is wrong of him to fatigue
himself. See, t