‘Ah! there you have one of these new lights,’ interrupted the bishop. ‘I know his sentiments; he is a leader of disaffection, a man of ungovernable vehemence, huge pride, and insolent demeanour.’ ‘Quite so, my Lord,’ said M. Ponce. ‘According to your honoured instructions, he has been closely watched, and, as I learned that he had neglected to light his sanctuary-lamp during three days, he has rendered himself amenable to justice. I have, however, offered him to compromise the matter on the receipt of a fine of twenty-five livres. He has refused me the money, and declares that he will speak to your lordship about it, face to face.’ ‘The fellow must be humbled,’ said the prelate; ‘he forgets that he has no legal status, that he is a mere salaried curate, and that I have it in my power to ruin him. I am glad that he is coming here; I shall have an opportunity of cautioning him to exhibit decorum in his conduct and respect in his behaviour.---- Well, Mademoiselle!’ he suddenly exclaimed, as the door opened, and his sister entered, embracing a large deal box. ‘I have brought you your letters, Monseigneur, and----’ ‘Well, my good sister, and what?’ ‘Oh, nothing, nothing!’ ‘May I ask what that box contains?’ enquired the bishop blandly, whilst he took the letters. ‘Nothing in the world, brother, but----’ ‘But what, eh?’ ‘Oh! nothing at all.’ ‘Shall I retire?’ asked M. Ponce, who had risen from his seat on the lady’s entry. ‘By no means, my Ponce, by no means;’ and he began to tear open his letters. ‘Ha! begging appeals. The priest of Semerville is restoring his church, and entreats help; the people are too poor, the landlord too chary of giving, and so on.’ Away fluttered the note, torn in half, and the _officiel_ obsequiously picked it up and placed it with a score other dead appeals in the wastepaper basket. ‘The curé of S. Julien entreats me to interfere--some widow who has been wronged--bah!’ and that letter followed the first. ‘“I have allowed nine months to elapse since the _vicaire_ of Vernon was appointed, and the licence has not yet been forwarded; wherefore, knowing the uncertainty of the post, he is confident that the omission is due to the neglect of the postman, and not of the forgetfulness of the bishop.” Humph! inclined to insolence. That is the way these young curates behave! You shall await my convenience, M. Dufour.’ This letter was crumpled up, and thrown at the basket.