Two grand sources of public revenue were the _Gabelle_ and the _Excise_. The gabelle, or monopoly of salt, pressed upon the peasant in two ways. The father of the family, obliged to pay for salt which he needed a price fifty times its value, was also required, under pain of imprisonment, to purchase a certain amount, determined by the clerks, and fixed according to the presumed consumption of his family. If he failed to purchase the requisite amount, or if he was suspected of being in possession of contraband goods, at any time of the day his house might be invaded by the officers of the Excise, and its contents examined. The feudal rights to grinding the corn, and pressing the grapes and apples, were also grievous restrictions on the liberty of the farmer and peasant. His landlord might imprison him for crushing the wheat he grew in a hand-quern, and for squeezing enough apples to fill a bottle with cider. The _Champart_ was another feudal right. The farmer was bound to yield to his lord not only a share of his harvest, but also he was not permitted to reap and garner his own corn till the portion due to the proprietor had been removed from his field. In addition to all these burdens came the _Tithe_; wheat, barley, rye, and oats were at first alone tithable. But the conversion of arable land into pasture and into fields of lucerne, sanfoin, and clover, to escape this tax, affected the income of the clergy, and they claimed the right of taking the tenth of cattle and of tithing wool. Nobles and roturiers resisted this claim, and numerous law-suits were the result,--suits rendered so expensive by the corruptions existing in courts of justice, that the vast majority of sufferers paid the tenth of their goods to the clergy rather than risk all to the lawyers. Matthias André removed his blue cap to the curés as they approached. He bore them no grudge,--they were fellow-sufferers; but he was wont to grind his teeth as the nobleman or the provost drove by, and he would curse the monk who came to exact the convent dues. ‘Good evening to you, neighbour André,’ said Jean Lebertre; ‘we have brought you your daughter. She is a little upset, frightened by the impertinence of a--well, of a gentleman.’ ‘Of a rascal,’ interrupted Lindet. ‘She shall tell you the story,’ said the priest of La Couture, thrusting the girl forward; ‘she can do so better than I; all I know of it is, that my friend here rescued her from a gentleman who was treating her with insolence.’ ‘How was it, child?’ asked Matthias, casting his fork from him with such violence that it stuck into the soil and remained upright. Gabrielle moved towards the seat. ‘Yes, sit down,’ said Lebertre; ‘poor child, you are greatly overcome.’