'The _bon Dieu!_' cried Jacques. 'Why doesn't He clear the way for himself? Look here. I do not care one farthing for your _bon Dieu_. Here is mine; I carry him about with me.' And he took a piece of a hundred sous out of his pocket (how had it got there?) '_Vive l'argent_' he said. 'You know it yourself, though you will not say so. There is no _bon Dieu_ but money. With money you can do anything. _L'argent c'est le bon Dieu_.' 'Be silent,' I cried, 'thou profane one!' And the women were still more indignant than I. 'We shall see, we shall see; when he is ill and would give his soul for something to wet his lips, his _bon Dieu_ will not do much for him,' cried one; and another said, clasping her hands with a shrill cry, 'It is enough to make the dead rise out of their graves!' 'The dead rise out of their graves!' These words, though one has heard them before, took possession of my imagination. I saw the rude fellow go along the street as I went on, tossing the coin in his hand. One time it fell to the ground and rang upon the pavement, and he laughed more loudly as he picked it up. He was walking towards the sunset, and I too, at a distance after. The sky was full of rose-tinted clouds floating across the blue, floating high over the grey pinnacles of the Cathedral, and filling the long open line of the Rue St. Etienne down which he was going. As I crossed to my own house I caught him full against the light, in his blue blouse, tossing the big silver piece in the air, and heard him laugh and shout _'Vive l'argent!_ This is the only _bon Dieu_.' Though there are many people who live as if this were their sentiment, there are few who give it such brutal expression; but some of the people at the corner of the street laughed too. 'Bravo, Jacques!' they cried; and one said, 'You are right, _mon ami_, the only god to trust in nowadays.' 'It is a short _credo_, M. le Maire,' said another, who caught my eye. He saw I was displeased, this one, and his countenance changed at once. 'Yes, Jean Pierre,' I said, 'it is worse than short--it is brutal. I hope no man who respects himself will ever countenance it. It is against the dignity of human nature, if nothing more.' 'Ah, M. le Maire!' cried a poor woman, one of the good ladies of the market, with entrenchments of baskets all round her, who had been walking my way; 'ah, M. le Maire! did not I say true? it is enough to bring the dead out of their graves.' 'That would be something to see,' said Jean Pierre, with a laugh; 'and I hope, _ma bonne femme_, that if you have any interest with them, you will entreat these gentlemen to appear before I go away.' 'I do not like such jesting,' said I. 'The dead are very dead and will not disturb anybody, but even the prejudices of respectable persons ought to be respected. A ribald like Jacques counts for nothing, but I did not expect this from you.'