Further, it cannot be denied that there is a tendency in the spirit of the people to fancy themselves despised by the rich. Even suspicion on that point must be rendered impossible, for it may lead to serious evils. The people are implacable on the subject of contempt: they are even cruel, and they cannot pardon it, whatever else they may be ready to overlook. They forgive those who deceive and those who rob and over-work them; but they do not forgive those who despise them. To be despised is to them the last indignity: and perhaps there is some reason in that popular instinct. It is surprising that our blessed Lord complained but once during His passion. ... He suffered, He died, without a murmur; but when the affront of contempt was inflicted on Him, He complained, and uttered that speech which revealed a heart profoundly bruised:--"If I have spoken evil, bear witness of the evil; but if well, why smitest thou me?" {108} But when the people meet with benevolence and cordiality among the rich, jealousy and hate give way, and they may be heard to say:--"If all the rich were of that sort, they would be adored; we should be ready to die for them." Moreover, they are led thereby to have more faith in God and in the reality of a Providence. Some few years ago there lived an artisan's wife who was notorious for her hatred toward society, toward the rich, and even toward God. She hated them with an implacable, a woman's hate. Her malignity was specially directed against the _rolls of silk_ and _bundles of stuff_--so she designated the females of the upper classes--and she was known to be in the habit of saying to her children:--"I have brought you up for the democracy ... to humble the rich and to reestablish equality; and if you do not become democrats, I will disown you." A priest commissioned a young marchioness, as virtuous as she was accomplished, to attend to this poor creature. She began by listening with kindness to all her grievances and insults, and even allowed herself to be called a _coquine_. Nevertheless, by dint of patience, she soon succeeded in calming her embittered soul. {109} One day, the marchioness, who was about to absent herself for several weeks, went to bid farewell to her _protégée_. She took her affectionately by the hand, and then, moved thereto spontaneously by her kind heart, and doubtless by the grace of God also, cordially kissed her, saying, as she left:--"I shall soon see you again."