‘An altar to S. Joseph! The clergy of Louviers are desirous--and so on. Well, Louviers is a large place. S. Joseph the patron of the Jesuits; at any other time than this, my good friends.’ Away sped this appeal. ‘“The curé of Beaumont ventures to observe that it is two years since the last confirmation, and that the children are growing up and leaving the district.” Confound his impudence! My rule is plain enough, to hold a confirmation every year in the large towns, Évreux and Louviers; one every second year in the smaller towns; and one every third year in the rural districts. Sister! enclose a printed slip with that notice to the curé of Beaumont.’ ‘Yes, brother.’ ‘What have we here? So, ho! a note from M. Berthier, Intendant of Paris, written at his country seat, near Bernay, about Thomas Lindet, who has behaved to him without proper respect, and whose revolutionary principles render him a dangerous person to be the curé of a large and important town. Pass me my paper-case, Ponce, my good fellow, I will send him a note in return to thank him for the information, and to promise that the curé shall be reprimanded and cautioned. Intendant of Paris! a man of consequence, is he not, Ponce, eh?’ ‘A man of very great consequence, my Lord; his father-in-law is M. Foulon, a great person at Court, as your lordship must know.’ If the bishop had attended to his sister instead of to his letters, he would have observed that she was carefully placing the deal box underneath the divan or sofa, which occupied one side of the little room. ‘Can I assist you, Mademoiselle?’ asked M. Ponce. ‘On no account,’ replied the lady with evident alarm and agitation. She made several ineffectual attempts to attract her brother’s attention, but he was too absorbed in his letters to notice her. And the moment he had despatched his answer to M. Berthier, he plunged at once into a discussion as to the guests who were to be invited to meet His Royal Highness, at a fête on the evening of his arrival. ‘I am in doubt whether to ask M. Girardin,’ said the prelate; ‘what is your opinion, my Ponce? He is Lieutenant-General of the bailiwick, which should weigh against his lack of nobility; his views are too liberal to please me, he is a bit of a philosopher, has read Rousseau and Voltaire, perhaps, and thinks with Montesquieu. I do not like to introduce a herd of roturiers to the Duke; and, if one admits two or three, all the burghers of the place will be offended at not having been invited.’ ‘As you have done me the honour of asking my opinion,’ said the functionary, ‘I would recommend you to invite M. Girardin. Feed well those who are not favourably disposed towards you; dazzle those who are your enemies, and you render them powerless.’