"Again, _scientia conveniens_, scholarship. In that you are very strong for your age, assuredly. Mademoiselle Angers has told me that you are by far the most promising pupil in the school. Do not be proud, Jean; all that comes from God. Be glad and humble. "Finally, _recta intentio_, sincere desire, pure and holy zeal for the glory of God, and the salvation of souls. Jean, Jean Baptiste, have you really these desires, these aspirations? Are you willing to give yourself to this holy work? Will you renounce the world, the flesh and the devil, and consecrate yourself to the service of God? Tell me, my son." "My father," said Jean, hesitating and embarrassed, "I wish--I do not know what I wish. I would do something, I know not what. For the glory of God? Yes. For the good of man? Ah, yes. At least, for my relations, the neighbours, the parish. But to be a priest? No, Monsieur le curé, I cannot." "But, Jean, you wish to attain the highest possible, do you not? I am sure that you do." "Mais oui, Monsieur." "Good, Jean, that is good. Then you shall be a priest. It is the only way to the excellence which you desire, unless you would follow the religious life. But you have no vocation in that direction, as I think." "Monsieur!" "Say no more, Jean. It is decided. Do not trouble. Here we are at your place, and we shall see Madame, your mother. Ah, there she is. Bonjour, Madame Giroux. We are making an early visit, are we not?" "Mais non, Monsieur, you are always welcome. Be so good as to enter. Your blessing, Monsieur le curé, on us and our poor house. It is a great honour to have such a visit. Jean, place the armchair for Monsieur Paradis. Marie, bring a glass of cordial for Monsieur; also some of the cakes which you made yesterday. Monsieur Paradis, it is a cordial which I made myself last summer of wild cherries, and it is excellent for the stomach." "Madame, the cordial is a veritable nectar, and the cakes are as the bread of angels." "It is Marie, Monsieur, who made the cakes. She is a treasure, that girl. I wish that all mothers could have such a daughter in their old age." "You are indeed fortunate, Madame. And you have other daughters--Marguerite, Sophie, Therese, Agathe--I remember them well." "What a memory you have, Monsieur le curé! Yes, five daughters, all married but this little Marie, and she will be going soon. Thus the young birds leave us, Monsieur, and begin to build nests of their own." "But what a fine family, Madame! Five daughters and six sons." "Pardon, Monsieur, seven in all. Little Jean, here, is the baby, the seventh." "The seventh, Madame! That is lucky." "Yes, Monsieur, the seventh son of a seventh. His father also was a seventh son, of a family of Chateau Richer."