fix the epoch of my marriage, and the various
phases of my existence; some I found in a country cabin, where they were
forgotten; some I brought from Stockholm, where I had been to see my
bishop and an old friend. All therefore recall to me kind teachers,
skillful guides, and are the memorials of different events, which are the
great items of my life. Gradually I have collected around me those books
which interest me the most. When I am here in my woodland home they are
company to me, and the most instructive friends man can meet with. Here
I have the philosophers, who aid me in the examination of the mysteries
of the soul; the historians, who record the revolutions of nations; the
geologists and natural philosophers, who expound to me the organic laws
of nature; the poets, who sing the joyous or sad emotions of the heart.
Whatever may be my moral disposition, I need only to reach my hand toward
one of them to seize on some brilliant intellect, to enlighten,
strengthen, and console me."

"How that delights me!" said Ebba, in a low tone.

"Listen," said M. de Vermondans, with emphasis, and with an intonation of
grief entirely contradicted by his face, "see, this woman has been
bewitched: the poison of your pernicious doctrines has reached the very
interior of my house. I fancied I would be able to educate my daughter in
the love of good principles, but I have warmed a very serpent at my
heart. Luckily, I see my faithful Alete attending only to the positive
and who now says that dinner is ready or Christmas-day. Christmas comes
but once a year."

The dinner was in truth solemn and splendid, the whole table being loaded
with enormous dishes.

"What a luxuriance of richness!" said M. de Vermondans. "Thank God, a
love of books does not make us forget material things."

Ireneus said, "This is in truth a banquet, with which, in France, a
candidate for the Chamber might win over many electors."

"Luckily," said the old priest, "we have no electors here to lead astray.
When, though, we leave the table, my farmer-boys will make merry over
what we have not eaten, and with them many poor people who on Christmas
are in the habit of coming to the parsonage. You do not to-day dine with
me, but with my people. On Christmas, in Sweden, we make presents to each
other as in France is done on New-Year's day. This game, these fish, have
been brought to me by the huntsmen and fishermen of my people. A peasant
gave me a quarter of veal,