“Would you, then, vicar,” replied the abbe, “that my sins were all made like an Adonis? Don’t let us speak of it any more. And you, barber, give me a drink. Do you know M. de la Musardiere?” “Not that I know of,” said M. Coquebert. “Then know,” replied my dear master, “that he was very taken with the ladies.” “That’s the way,” interrupted the vicar, “by which the devil takes his advantage over men. But what subject do you follow, my son?” “You’ll soon know,” said my good master. “M. de la Musardiere gave an appointment to a virgin in a stable. She went, and he let her go away just as she entered it. Do you know why?” “I do not,” said the vicar, “but let us leave it.” “Not at all,” continued M. Coignard. “You ought to know that he took good care to have no intercourse with her as he was afraid of begetting a horse, on which account he would have been subject to criminal prosecution.” “Ah!” said the barber, “he ought rather to have been afraid to engender an ass.” “Doubtless,” said the vicar. “But such talk does not advance us on the road to heaven. It would be useful to retake the good way. But a little while ago you spoke so edifyingly!” Instead of giving reply, my good master began to sing, with rather a strong voice: “Pour mettre en gout le roi Louison On a pris quinze mirlitons Landerinette Qui tous le balai ont roll Landeriri.” “If you want to sing, my son,” said the vicar, “you’d better sing a fine Burgundian Christmas carol. You’d rejoice your soul by it and sanctify it.” “With pleasure,” replied my dear tutor. “There are some by Guy Barozai which, I think, in their apparent rusticity, to be finer than diamonds and more precious than gold. This one, for example: ‘Lor qu’au lai saison qu’ai jaule Au monde Jesu-chri vin L’ane et le beu l’echaufin De le leu sofle dans l’etaule. Que d’ane et de beu je sai Dans ce royaume de Gaule, Que d’ane et de beu je sai Qui n’en a rien pas tan fai.’” The surgeon, his wife and the vicar sang together: “Que d’ane et de beu je sai Dans ce royaume de Gaule, Que d’ane et de beu je sai Qui n’en a rien pas tan fai.” And my good master replied in a weaker voice: “Mais le pu beo de l’histoire Ce fut que l’ane et le beu Ainsin passire to deu La nuit sans manger ni boire Que d’ane et de beu je sai Couver de pane et de moire Que d’ane et de beu je sai Que n’en a rien pas tan fai!” Then he let his head fall on the pillow and sang no more.