Here naturally comes a fact which we must not omit, for it is one of those which will enable us to see what manner of man the Bishop of D---- was. After the destruction of the band of Gaspard Bès, which had infested the gorges of Ollioules, Cravatte, one of his lieutenants, took refuge in the mountains. He concealed himself for a while with his brigands, the remnant of Bès' band, in the county of Nice, then went to Piedmont, and suddenly re-appeared in France, via Barcelonnette. He was seen first at Jauziers, and next at Tuiles; he concealed himself in the caverns of the Joug de l'Aigle, and descended thence on the hamlets and villages by the ravines of the Ubaye. He pushed on even as far as Embrun, entered the church one night and plundered the sacristy. His brigandage desolated the country, and the gendarmes were in vain placed on his track. He constantly escaped, and at times even offered resistance, for he was a bold scoundrel. In the midst of all this terror the Bishop arrived on his visitation, and the Mayor came to him and urged him to turn back. Cravatte held the mountain as far as Arche and beyond, and there was danger, even with an escort. It would be uselessly exposing three or four unhappy gendarmes. "For that reason," said the Bishop, "I intend to go without escort." "Can you mean it, Monseigneur?" the Mayor exclaimed. "I mean it so fully that I absolutely refuse gendarmes, and intend to start in an hour." "Monseigneur, you will not do that!" "There is in the mountain," the Bishop continued, "a humble little parish, which I have not visited for three years. They are good friends of mine, and quiet and honest shepherds. They are the owners of one goat out of every thirty they guard; they make very pretty woollen ropes of different colors, and they play mountain airs on small six-holed flutes. They want to hear about heaven every now and then, and what would they think of a bishop who was afraid? What would they say if I did not go?" "But, Monseigneur, the brigands." "Ah," said the Bishop, "you are right; I may meet them. They too must want to hear about heaven." "But this band is a flock of wolves." "Monsieur Mayor, it may be that this is precisely the flock of which Christ has made me the shepherd. Who knows the ways of Providence?" "Monseigneur, they will plunder you." "I have nothing." "They will kill you." "A poor old priest who passes by, muttering his mummery? Nonsense, what good would that do them?" "Oh, good gracious, if you were to meet them!" "I would ask them for alms for my poor." "Monseigneur, do not go. In Heaven's name do not, for you expose your life." "My good sir," said the Bishop, "is that all? I am not in this world to save my life, but to save souls."