lways remained
serious and respectable, as the particle "de" before their name
exacted a certain amount of ceremonial even with their intimate
friends.

After lunch, they went to visit the farms; and the Parisian stupefied
the respectable peasants by talking to them as if he were a comrade of
theirs.

In the evening, the cure dined at the house--a fat old priest,
wearing his Sunday suit, who had been specially asked that day in
order to meet the newcomer.

When Joseph saw him he made a grimace, then he stared at the priest in
astonishment as if he belonged to some peculiar race of beings, the
like of which he had never seen before at such close quarters. He told
a few smutty stories allowable enough with a friend after dinner, but
apparently somewhat out of place in the presence of an ecclesiastic.
He did not say, "Monsieur l'Abbe," but merely "Monsieur"; and he
embarrassed the priest with philosophical views as to the various
superstitions that prevailed on the surface of the globe.

He remarked:

"Your God, monsieur, is one of those persons whom we must respect, but
also one of those who must be discussed. Mine is called Reason; he has
from time immemorial been the enemy of yours."

The Merouls, greatly put out, attempted to divert his thoughts.

The cure left very early.

Then the husband gently remarked:

"You went a little too far with that priest."

But Joseph immediately replied:

"That's a very good joke, too! Am I to bother my brains about a
devil-dodger? At any rate, do me the favor of not ever again having
such an old fogy to dinner. Curses on his impudence!"

"But, my friend, remember his sacred character."

Joseph Mouradour interrupted him:

"Yes, I know. We must treat them like girls, who get roses for being
well behaved! That's all right, my boy! When these people respect my
convictions, I will respect theirs!"

This was all that happened that day.

Next morning, Madame de Meroul, on entering her drawing-room, saw
lying on the table three newspapers which made her draw back in
horror. "Le Voltaire," "Le Republique Francaise," and "La Justice."

Presently, Joseph Mouradour, still in his blue blouse, appeared on the
threshold, reading "L'Intransigeant" attentively. He exclaimed:

"There is a splendid article by Rochefort. This fellow is marvelous."

He read the article in a loud voice, laying so much stress on its most
striking passages that he did not notice the entrance of his fri