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If the narrow limits of this history permitted us to report even one of the conversations which often brought a bitter and sarcastic smile to the lips of the Abbe Troubert, it would offer a finished picture of the Boeotian life of the provinces.
Like the seconds or sponsors who in the Middle Age armed the champion, and strengthened his valor by useful counsel until he entered the lists, so the sly old fox had said to the baroness at the last moment: "Don't forget your cue. You are a mediator, and not an interested party. Troubert also is a mediator. Weigh your words; study the inflection of the man's voice.
He has taken all." "You mean Poirel?" "No, Troubert." At last they reached the Alouette, where the priest's friends gave him such tender care that towards evening he grew calmer and was able to give them an account of what had happened during the morning. The phlegmatic old fox asked to see the deed which, on thinking the matter over, seemed to him to contain the solution of the enigma.
When the Abbe Chapeloud died, the old maid, who desired a lodger with quiet ways, naturally thought of the vicar. Before the canon's will was made known she had meditated offering his rooms to the Abbe Troubert, who was not very comfortable on the ground-floor.
"Come!" cried Madame de Listomere, turning to Birotteau, "which do you prefer, to be made a canon, or continue to live with Mademoiselle Gamard?" "To be a canon!" cried the whole company. "Well, then," resumed Madame de Listomere, "you must let the Abbe Troubert and Mademoiselle Gamard have things their own way.
He used the Tourainean word "bourrier" which has no other meaning than a "bit of straw." But there are pretty little straws, yellow, polished, and shining, the delight of children, whereas the bourrier is straw discolored, muddy, sodden in the puddles, whirled by the tempest, crushed under feet of men. "But, madame, I cannot let the Abbe Troubert keep Chapeloud's portrait.
Yet the Abbe Troubert, now fifty years of age, had entirely removed, partly by the circumspection of his conduct and the apparent lack of all ambitions, and partly by his saintly life, the fears which his suspected ability and his powerful presence had roused in the minds of his superiors.
He has taken all." "You mean Poirel?" "No, Troubert." At last they reached the Alouette, where the priest's friends gave him such tender care that towards evening he grew calmer and was able to give them an account of what had happened during the morning. The phlegmatic old fox asked to see the deed which, on thinking the matter over, seemed to him to contain the solution of the enigma.
"Injury to religion, madame!" exclaimed the vicar-general. "Religion is too lofty for the actions of men to injure." "Then, monsieur," she replied, "let us endeavor to bring the judgments of men into harmony with the judgments of God." The Abbe Troubert suddenly changed his tone. "Your nephew has been to Paris, I believe." "Yes, monsieur; thank you for the interest you take in him.
The Abbe Troubert roused, at first sight, an involuntary feeling of fear, while the vicar's presence brought a kindly smile to the lips of all who looked at him.
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