were regular. She never spoke of the events of her life. But at times
a sudden quiver passed over her as she listened to the story of some

sad or dreadfulincident, thus betraying the emotions that great
sufferings had developed within her. She had come to live at Tours

after losing the companion of her life; but she was not appreciated
there at her true value and was thought to be merely an amiable woman.

She did much good, and attached herself, by preference, to feeble
beings. For that reason the poor vicar had naturally inspired her with

a deep interest.
Mademoiselle de Villenoix, who returned to Tours the next morning,

took Birotteau with her and set him down on the quay of the cathedral
leaving him to make his own way to the Cloister, where he was bent on

going, to save at least the canonry and to superintend the removal of
his furniture. He rang, not without violent palpitations of the heart,

at the door of the house whither, for fourteen years, he had come
daily, and where he had lived blissfully, and from which he was now

exiled forever, after dreaming that he should die there in peace like
his friend Chapeloud. Marianne was surprised at the vicar's visit. He

told her that he had come to see the Abbe Troubert, and turned towards
the ground-floor apartment where the canon lived; but Marianne called

to him:--
"Not there, monsieur le vicaire; the Abbe Troubert is in your old

apartment."
These words gave the vicar a frightful shock. He was forced to

comprehend both Troubert's character and the depths of the revenge so
slowly brought about when he found the canon settled in Chapeloud's

library, seated in Chapeloud's handsome armchair, sleeping, no doubt,
in Chapeloud's bed, and disinheriting at last the friend of Chapeloud,

the man who, for so many years, had confined him to Mademoiselle
Gamard's house, by preventing his advancement in the church, and

closing the best salons in Tours against him. By what magic wand had
the present transformation taken place? Surely these things belonged

to Birotteau? And yet, observing the sardonic air with which Troubert
glanced at that bookcase, the poor abbe knew that the future vicar-

general felt certain of possessing the spoils of those he had so
bitterly hated,--Chapeloud as an enemy, and Birotteau, in and through

whom Chapeloud still thwarted him. Ideas rose in the heart of the poor
man at the sight, and plunged him into a sort of vision. He stood

motionless, as though fascinated by Troubert's eyes which fixed
themselves upon him.

"I do not suppose, monsieur," said Birotteau at last, "that you intend
to deprive me of the things that belong to me. Mademoiselle may have

been impatient to give you better lodgings, but she ought to have been
sufficiently just to give me time to pack my books and remove my

furniture."
"Monsieur," said the Abbe Troubert, coldly, not permitting any sign of

emotion to appear on his face, "Mademoiselle Gamard told me yesterday
of your departure, the cause of which is still unknown to me. If she

installed me here at once, it was from necessity. The Abbe Poirel has
taken my apartment. I do not know if the furniture and things that are

in these rooms belong to you or to Mademoiselle; but if they are
yours, you know her scrupulous honesty; the sanctity of her life is

the guarantee of her rectitude. As for me, you are well aware of my
simple modes of living. I have slept for fifteen years in a bare room

without complaining of the dampness,--which, eventually will have
caused my death. Nevertheless, if you wish to return to this apartment

I will cede it to you willingly."
After hearing these terrible words, Birotteau forgot the canonry and

ran downstairs as quickly as a young man to find Mademoiselle Gamard.
He met her at the foot of the staircase, on the broad, tiled landing

which united the two wings of the house.
"Mademoiselle," he said, bowing to her without paying any attention to

the bitter and derisive smile that was on her lips, nor to the
extraordinary flame in her eyes which made them lucent as a tiger's,

"I cannot understand how it is that you have not waited until I
removed my furniture before--"

"What!" she said, interrupting him, "is it possible that your things
have not been left at Madame de Listomere's?"

"But my furniture?"
"Haven't you read your deed?" said the old maid, in a tone which would

have to be rendered in music before the shades of meaning that hatred
is able to put into the accent of every word could be fully shown.

Mademoiselle Gamard seemed to rise in stature, her eyes shone, her
face expanded, her whole person quivered with pleasure. The Abbe

Troubert opened a window to get a better light on the folio volume he
was reading. Birotteau stood as if a thunderbolt had stricken him.

Mademoiselle Gamard made his ears hum when she enunciated in a voice
as clear as a cornet the following sentence:--

"Was it not agreed that if you left my house your furniture should
belong to me, to indemnify me for the difference in the price of board

paid by you and that paid by the late venerable Abbe Chapeloud? Now,
as the Abbe Poirel has just been appointed canon--"

Hearing the last words Birotteau made a feeble bow as if to take leave
of the old maid, and left the house precipitately. He was afraid if he

stayed longer that he should break down utterly, and give too great a
triumph to his implacable enemies. Walking like a dunken man he at

last reached Madame de Listomere's house, where he found in one of the
lower rooms his linen, his clothing, and all his papers packed in a

trunk. When he eyes fell on these few remnants of his possessions the
unhappy priest sat down and hid his face in his hands to conceal his

tears from the sight of others. The Abbe Poirel was canon! He,
Birotteau, had neither home, nor means, nor furniture!

Fortunately Mademoiselle Salomon happened to drive past the house, and
the porter, who saw and comprehended the despair of the poor abbe,

made a sign to the coachman. After exchanging a few words with
Mademoiselle Salomon the porter persuaded the vicar to let himself be

placed, half dead as he was, in the carriage of his faithful friend,
to whom he was unable to speak connectedly. Mademoiselle Salomon,

alarmed at the momentary derangement of a head that was always feeble,
took him back at once to the Alouette, believing that this beginning

of mental alienation was an effect produced by the sudden news of Abbe
Poirel's nomination. She knew nothing, of course, of the fatal

agreement made by the abbe with Mademoiselle Gamard, for the excellent
reason that he did not know of it himself; and because it is in the

nature of things that the comical is often mingled with the pathetic,
the singular replies of the poor abbe made her smile.

"Chapeloud was right," he said; "he is a monster!"
"Who?" she asked.

"Chapeloud. He has taken all."
"You mean Poirel?"

"No, Troubert."
At last they reached the Alouette, where the priest's friends gave him

such tender care that towards evening he grew calmer and was able to
give them an account of what had happened during the morning.

The phlegmatic old fox asked to see the deed which, on thinking the
matter over, seemed to him to contain the solution of the enigma.

Birotteau drew the fatal stamped paper from his pocket and gave it to
Monsieur de Bourbonne, who read it rapidly and soon came upon the

following clause:--
"Whereas a difference exists of eight hundred francs yearly between

the price of board paid by the late Abbe Chapeloud and that at which
the said Sophie Gamard agrees to take into her house, on the above-

named stipulated condition, the said Francois Birotteau; and whereas
it is understood that the undersigned Francois Birotteau is not able

for some years to pay the full price charged to the other boarders of
Mademoiselle Gamard, more especially the Abbe Troubert; the said

Birotteau does hereby engage, in consideration of certain sums of
money advanced by the undersigned Sophie Gamard, to leave her, as

indemnity, all the household property of which he may die possessed,
or to transfer the same to her should he, for any reason whatever or

at any time, voluntarily give up the apartment now leased to him, and
thus derive no further profit from the above-named engagements made by

Mademoiselle Gamard for his benefit--"
"Confound her! what an agreement!" cried the old gentleman. "The said

Sophie Gamard is armed with claws."