) had been to the abbe nothing less than a
passion, a passion full of obstacles, and, like more guilty passions,
full of hopes, pleasures, and remorse.

The interior arrangements of the house did not allow Mademoiselle Gamard
to take more than two lodgers. Now, for about twelve years before the
day when Birotteau went to live with her she had undertaken to keep in
health and contentment two priests; namely, Monsieur l'Abbe Troubert
and Monsieur l'Abbe Chapeloud. The Abbe Troubert still lived. The Abbe
Chapeloud was dead; and Birotteau had stepped into his place.

The late Abbe Chapeloud, in life a canon of Saint-Gatien, had been an
intimate friend of the Abbe Birotteau. Every time that the latter paid
a visit to the canon he had constantly admired the apartment, the
furniture and the library. Out of this admiration grew the desire to
possess these beautiful things. It had been impossible for the Abbe
Birotteau to stifle this desire; though it often made him suffer
terribly when he reflected that the death of his best friend could alone
satisfy his secret covetousness, which increased as time went on. The
Abbe Chapeloud and his friend Birotteau were not rich. Both were sons of
peasants; and their slender savings had been spent in the mere costs
of living during the disastrous years of the Revolution. When Napoleon
restored the Catholic worship the Abbe Chapeloud was appointed canon of
the cathedral and Birotteau was made vicar of it. Chapeloud then went to
board with Mademoiselle Gamard. When Birotteau first came to visit
his friend, he thought the arrangement of the rooms excellent, but he
noticed nothing more. The outset of this concupiscence of chattels was
very like that of a true passion, which often begins, in a young man,
with cold admiration for a woman whom he ends in loving forever.

The apartment, reached by a stone staircase, was on the side of the
house that faced south. The Abbe Troubert occupied the ground-floor, and
Mademoiselle Gamard the first floor of the main building, looking on the
street. When Chapeloud took possession of his rooms they were bare
of furniture, and the ceilings were blackened with smoke. The stone
mantelpieces, which were very badly cut, had never been painted. At
first, the only furniture the poor canon could put in was a bed, a
table, a few chairs, and the books he possessed. The apartment was like
a beautiful woman in rags. But two or three years later, an old lady
having left