When he reached the end, he sat down on a bench. A gentleman happened to be there with his hands crossed over his cane and his chin resting on his hands, in an attitude of profound meditation. But Patissot belonged to the race of those who cannot pass three seconds at the side of a fellow-being without speaking to him. He first looked at his neighbor, hemmed, then suddenly said:
“Could you tell me, Monsieur, the name of the village that I see down there?”
The gentleman raised his head and in a sad voice replied:
“It is Sartrouville.”
Then he was silent. Patissot, contemplating the immense perspective of the terrace, shaded with trees a century old, feeling in his lungs the great breath of the forest which rustled behind him, rejoiced by the springtime odors of the woods and great fields, gave an abrupt little laugh and, with a keen eye, remarked:
“There are some fine nooks for lovers here.”
His neighbor turned toward him with a disconsolate air, and replied:
“If I were in love, Monsieur, I would throw myself into the river.”
Patissot not being of the same mind, protested.
“Hey! hey! you speak of it with great unconcern; and why so?”
“Because it has already cost me too dear for me to wish to begin it again.”
Patissot gave a grin of joy as he replied:
“Well, if you have been guilty of follies, they always cost dear.”
But the other sighed in a melancholy way, and said sadly:
“No, Monsieur, I have not perpetrated any follies; I have been betrayed by events, that is all.”
Patissot, who scented a good story, continued:
“For all that, we cannot dislike the curés; it is not in nature.”
Then the man lifted his eyes sorrowfully to heaven.
“That is true, Monsieur, but if the priests were men like others, my misfortune would not have happened. I am an enemy to ecclesiastical celibacy, Monsieur, and I have my reasons for it.”
“Would it be indiscreet to ask you?”
“Not at all. This is my story: I am a Norman, Monsieur. My father was a miller at Darnétal, near Rouen; and when he died we were left mere children, my brother and I, in the charge of our uncle, a good stout curé of Caux.
“He brought us up, gave us our education; and then sent us both to Paris to find suitable situations.
“My brother was twenty-one years old and I was twenty-two.
“We lodged together from economy, and we were living quietly when the adventure occurred which I am going to tell you.
“One evening as I was going home, I happened to meet on the sidewalk a young lady who pleased me very much. She answered to all my tastes; she was rather tall, Monsieur, and had a pleasant air. I dared not speak to her, of course, but I gave her a penetrating glance. The next morning I found her at the same place; then, as I was timid, I only bowed. She replied with a little smile, and the day after I approached her and spoke to her.
“Her name was Victorine, and she worked at sewing in a dressmaker’s establishment. I felt very soon that my heart was taken.
“I said to her: ‘Mademoiselle, it seems to me that I cannot live away from you.’ She lowered her eyes without answering. Then I seized her hand and I felt her press mine in return. I was captured, Monsieur: but I did not know what to do on account of my brother. My faith! I was just deciding to tell him everything when he opened his mouth first: He also was in love. Then it was agreed that we should take another lodging, but that we should not breathe a word of it to our good uncle, who should keep on addressing his letters in care of my domestic. So it was done; and a week later Victorine joined me in my home. We gave a little dinner, to which my brother brought his sweetheart, and in the evening, when everything was put in order, we definitely took possession of our lodging.
“We had been asleep for an hour, perhaps, when a violent ringing of the bell awaked me. I looked at the clock, it was three in the morning. I slipped on my trousers and hurried toward the door, saying to myself, ‘it is some misfortune, surely—’
“It was my uncle, Monsieur, he had on his traveling coat, and carried his valise in his hand.
“ ‘Yes, it is I, my boy, I have come to surprise you, and to spend several days in Paris. Monseigneur has given me leave of absence.’
“He kissed me on both cheeks, entered, and shut the door. I was more dead than alive, Monsieur. But as he was about to penetrate into my bedroom, I almost grasped him by the collar.
“ ‘No, not that way, uncle, this way, this way.’
“And I made him go into the dining room. You see my situation—what was I to do? He said to me:
“ ‘And your brother, is he asleep? Go and wake him up.’
“I stammered:
“ ‘No, uncle, he has been obliged to pass the night at the office for an urgent order.’
“My uncle rubbed his hands.
“ ‘Business is all right, then?’
“An idea occurred to me.
“ ‘You must be hungry, uncle, after your journey.’
“ ‘My faith! that’s true, I could nibble a little crust.’
“I rushed to the cupboard, where I had put the remains of the dinner. He was a great eater, my uncle, a true Norman curé, capable of eating twelve hours at a sitting. I brought out a bit of beef, to make the time longer, for I knew that he did not care for it; then after he had eaten enough of it, I presented the remnant of a chicken,
