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Updated: June 28, 2025
And we heard that the Church was about to excommunicate, or had already excommunicated Vergniaud, though I suppose Cardinal Bonpre had nothing to do with that?" "Not he!" said Patoux firmly, "He would never excommunicate or do any unkind thing to a living soul that I am pretty sure of.
For that most eminent Cardinal stayed at my inn in Rouen before coming on here!" "So!" And Cousin Pierre looked rather surprised. "Without offence to thee, Jean, it was a poor place for a Cardinal, was it not?" "Poor, truly, but sufficient for a man of his mind!" replied Patoux tranquilly, "For look you, he is trying to live as Christ lived, and Christ cared naught for luxury."
They were very humble folk who kept the Hotel Poitiers, the host, Jean Patoux, was a small market-gardener who owned a plot of land outside Rouen, which he chiefly devoted to the easy growing of potatoes and celery his wife had her hands full with the domestic business of the hotel and the cares of her two children, Henri and Babette, the most incorrigible imps of mischief that ever lived in Rouen or out of it.
And Jean Patoux and his wife, reposing on their virtuous marital couch, conversed a long time about the unexpected and unwelcome visit of Claude Cazeau, and the mission he had declared himself entrusted with from the Vatican, "And you may depend upon it," said Madame sententiously, "that he will get his way by fair means or foul!
"Rats are nice," declared Babette, for she remembered having once had a tame white rat which sat on her knee and took food from her hand, "Monsieur Cazeau is a man; and men are not nice." Patoux burst into a loud laugh. "Men are not nice!" he echoed "What dost thou know about it, thou little droll one?"
Sitting quietly in her tidy kitchen near the open window, after the Cardinal's departure, Madame Patoux knitted busily, her thoughts flying faster than her glittering needles.
"No doubt no doubt!" said Patoux, nodding gravely "There was something about him that seemed a sort of shield against evil or at least, so said my wife, and so say my children.
"And there is no person living who has the right to claim you?" "None!" "And is it not strange, Monseigneur," murmured Madame Patoux at this juncture "The little lad does not speak as if he were ignorant! It is as though he had been well taught and carefully nurtured." Manuel's deep eyes dwelt upon her with a meditative sweetness.
"It is very dark," agreed Monseigneur, stumbling as he spoke, and feeling rather inclined to indulge in very uncanonical language. "It is altogether a miserable hole, mon Patoux!" "It is for poor people only," returned Jean calmly "And poverty is not a crime, Monseigneur."
He was a very little, very cheery, round man, was Papa Patoux; he had no ideas at all in his bullet head save that he judged everything to be very well managed in the Universe, and that he, considered simply as Patoux, was lucky in his life and labours, also that it was an easy thing to grow celery, provided God's blessing was on the soil.
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