the Abbe Chapeloud two thousand francs, he spent that sum on
the purchase of an oak bookcase, the relic of a chateau pulled down by
the Bande Noire, the carving of which deserved the admiration of all
artists. The abbe made the purchase less because it was very cheap than
because the dimensions of the bookcase exactly fitted the space it was
to fill in his gallery. His savings enabled him to renovate the whole
gallery, which up to this time had been neglected and shabby. The floor
was carefully waxed, the ceiling whitened, the wood-work painted to
resemble the grain and knots of oak. A long table in ebony and two
cabinets by Boulle completed the decoration, and gave to this gallery a
certain air that was full of character. In the course of two years the
liberality of devout persons, and legacies, though small ones, from
pious penitents, filled the shelves of the bookcase, till then half
empty. Moreover, Chapeloud's uncle, an old Oratorian, had left him his
collection in folio of the Fathers of the Church, and several other
important works that were precious to a priest.

Birotteau, more and more surprised by the successive improvements of
the gallery, once so bare, came by degrees to a condition of involuntary
envy. He wished he could possess that apartment, so thoroughly in
keeping with the gravity of ecclestiastical life. The passion increased
from day to day. Working, sometimes for days together, in this retreat,
the vicar could appreciate the silence and the peace that reigned there.
During the following year the Abbe Chapeloud turned a small room into
an oratory, which his pious friends took pleasure in beautifying. Still
later, another lady gave the canon a set of furniture for his bedroom,
the covering of which she had embroidered under the eyes of the worthy
man without his ever suspecting its destination. The bedroom then had
the same effect upon the vicar that the gallery had long had; it dazzled
him. Lastly, about three years before the Abbe Chapeloud's death, he
completed the comfort of his apartment by decorating the salon. Though
the furniture was plainly covered in red Utrecht velvet, it fascinated
Birotteau. From the day when the canon's friend first laid eyes on the
red damask curtains, the mahogany furniture, the Aubusson carpet which
adorned the vast room, then lately painted, his envy of Chapeloud's
apartment became a monomania hidden within his breast. To live there, to
sleep in that bed with the sil