“Ah! Ah! Master Philosopher, I am not to be taken as a greenhorn. This is an extract of the fifth book of the _Stromata_, the author of which, Clement of Alexandria, is not mentioned in the martyrology, for different reasons, which His Holiness Benedict XI. has indicated, the principal of which is, that this Father was often erroneous in matters of faith. It may be supposed that this exclusion was not sensibly felt by him, if one takes into consideration what philosophical estrangement had during his lifetime inspired this martyr. He gave preference to _exile_ and took care to save his persecutors a crime, because he was a very honest man. His style of writing was not elegant; his genius was lively, his morals were pure, even austere. He had a very pronounced liking for allegories and for lettuces.” The philosopher extended his arm, which seemed to me to be remarkably elongated as it reached right over the whole of the table, to take back the little book from the hands of my learned tutor. “It is sufficient,” he said, pushing the _Stromata_ back into his pocket. “I see, reverend sir, that you understand Greek, You have well translated this passage, at least in a vulgar and literal sense. I intend to make your and your pupil’s fortune; I’ll employ both of you to translate at my house the Greek texts I have received from Egypt.” And turning towards my father, he continued: “I think, Master Cook, you will consent to let me have your son to make him a learned man and a great one. Should it be too much for your fatherly love to give him entirely to me, I would pay out of my own pocket for a scullion as his substitute in your cookshop.” “As your lordship understands it like that,” replied my father, “I shall not prevent you doing good to my son.” “Always under the condition,” said my mother, “that it is not to be at the expense of his soul. You’ll have to affirm on your oath to me that you are a good Christian.” “Barbe,” said my father, “you are a holy and worthy woman, but you oblige me to make my excuses to this gentleman for your want of politeness, which is caused less, to say the truth, by the natural disposition, which is a good one, than by your neglected education.” “Let the good woman have her say,” remarked the philosopher, “and let her be reassured; I am a very religious man.” “That’s right!” exclaimed my mother. “One has to worship the holy name of God.” “I worship all His names, my good lady. He has more than one. He is called Adonai, Tetragrammaton, Jehovah, Otheres, Athanatos and Schyros. And there are many more names.”