"Well," replied the abbé, "it matters little to me if you forget God; but I do not want you to doubt His existence." "Oh! be at rest on that point: it is not the hunter who ever doubts the existence of God--no man does who has spent whole nights in the moonlit woods, who has studied Nature, from the elephant down to the mite, who has watched the setting and the rising of the sun, who has heard the songs of the birds, their evening laments and their morning hymns of praise!" "Then all will be well.... Now, you know, there is a text in the Gospels which is short and easy to remember; make it the foundation of your actions and you need not fear failure; this text, which ought to be engraved in letters of gold over the entry to every town, over the entry to every house, over the entry to every heart, is:'_Do not do unto others that ye would not have them do to you._' And when philosophers, cavillers, libertines, say to you, 'Confucius has a maxim better than that, as follows: Do unto others what you would have them do to you,' reply, 'No, it is not better!--for it is false in its application; one cannot always do what one would like others to do to oneself, whilst one can always abstain from doing what one would not like them to do to oneself.' Come, kiss me and let us leave matters here.... We could not say anything better than that." And, with these words, we embraced warmly, and I left him. The next day but one, after having made my last visit to the cemetery,--a pious pilgrimage which my mother made almost every day, and in which, this time, I accompanied her,--we wended our way towards the _Hôtel de la Boule d'or_ where the passing coach was to pick me up and take me away to Paris. At half-past nine we heard the sound of the wheels; my mother and I had still another half-hour together. We retired into a room where we were alone, and we wept together; but our tears were from different causes. My mother wept in doubt, I wept in hope. We could neither of us see the hand of God; but very certainly God was present and His grace was with us. CHAPTER V I find Adolphe again--The pastoral drama--First steps--The Duc de Bellune--General Sébastiani--His secretaries and his snuff-boxes--The fourth floor, small door to the left--The general who painted battles