by admitting you are an accomplice.")

There was silence for a moment.
"Mademoiselle Gamard's temporal affairs do not concern me," said the

priest at last, lowering the large lids over his eagle eyes to veil
his emotions. ("Ho! ho!" thought he, "you can't compromise me. Thank

God, those damned lawyers won't dare to plead any cause that could
smirch me. What do these Listomeres expect to get by crouching in this

way?")
"Monsieur," replied the baroness, "Monsieur Birotteau's affairs are no

more mine than those of Mademoiselle Gamard are yours; but,
unfortunately, religion is injured by such a quarrel, and I come to

you as a mediator--just as I myself am seeking to make peace." ("We
are not decieving each other, Monsieur Troubert," thought she. "Don't

you feel the sarcasm of that answer?")
"Injury to religion, madame!" exclaimed the vicar-general. "Religion

is too lofty for the actions of men to injure." ("My religion is I,"
thought he.) "God makes no mistake in His judgments, madame; I

recognize no tribunal but His."
"Then, monsieur," she replied, "let us endeavor to bring the judgments

of men into harmony with the judgments of God." ("Yes, indeed, your
religion is you.")

The Abbe Troubert suddenly changed his tone.
"Your nephew has been to Paris, I believe." ("You found out about me

there," thought he; "you know now that I can crush you, you who dared
to slight me, and you have come to capitulate.")

"Yes, monsieur; thank you for the interest you take in him. He returns
to-night; the minister, who is very considerate of us, sent for him;

he does not want Monsieur de Listomere to leave the service."
("Jesuit, you can't crush us," thought she. "I understand your

civility.")
A moment's silence.

"I did not think my nephew's conduct in this affair quite the thing,"
she added; "but naval men must be excused; they know nothing of law."

("Come, we had better make peace," thought she; "we sha'n't gain
anything by battling in this way.")

A slight smile wandered over the priests face and was lost in its
wrinkles.

"He has done us the service of getting a proper estimate on the value
of those paintings," he said, looking up at the pictures. "They will

be a noble ornament to the chapel of the Virgin." ("You shot a sarcasm
at me," thought he, "and there's another in return; we are quits,

madame.")
"If you intend to give them to Saint-Gatien, allow me to offer frames

that will be more suitable and worthy of the place, and of the works
themselves." ("I wish I could force you to betray that you have taken

Birotteau's things for your own," thought she.)
"They do not belong to me," said the priest, on his guard.

"Here is the deed of relinquishment," said Madame de Listomere; "it
ends all discussion, and makes them over to Mademoiselle Gamard." She

laid the document on the table. ("See the confidence I place in you,"
thought she.) "It is worthy of you, monsieur," she added, "worthy of

your noble character, to reconcile two Christians,--though at present
I am not especially concerned for Monsieur Birotteau--"

"He is living in your house," said Troubert, interrupting her.
"No, monsieur, he is no longer there." ("That peerage and my nephew's

promotion force me to do base things," thought she.)
The priest remained impassible, but his calm exterior was an

indication of violentemotion. Monsieur Bourbonne alone had fathomed
the secret of that apparent tranquillity. The priest had triumphed!

"Why did you take upon yourself to bring that relinquishment," he
asked, with a feeling analogous to that which impels a woman to fish

for compliments.
"I could not avoid a feeling of compassion. Birotteau, whose feeble

nature must be well known to you, entreated me to see Madaemoiselle
Gamard and to obtain as the price of his renunciation--"

The priest frowned.
"of rights upheld by distinguished lawyers, the portrait of--"

Troubert looked fixedly at Madame de Listomere.
"the portrait of Chapeloud," she said, continuing: "I leave you to

judge of his claim." ("You will be certain to lose your case if we go
to law, and you know it," thought she.)

The tone of her voice as she said the words "distinguished lawyers"
showed the priest that she knew very well both the strength and

weakness of the enemy. She made her talent so plain to this
connoisseur emeritus in the course of a conversation which lasted a

long time in the tone here given, that Troubert finally went down to
Mademoiselle Gamard to obtain her answer to Birotteau's request for

the portrait.
He soon returned.

"Madame," he said, "I bring you the words of a dying woman. 'The Abbe
Chapeloud was so true a friend to me,' she said, 'that I cannot

consent to part with his picture.' As for me," added Troubert, "if it
were mine I would not yield it. My feelings to my late friend were so

faithful that I should feel my right to his portrait was above that of
others."

"Well, there's no need to quarrel over a bad picture." ("I care as
little about it as you do," thought she.) "Keep it, and I will have a

copy made of it. I take some credit to myself for having averted this
deplorable lawsuit; and I have gained, personally, the pleasure of

your acquaintance. I hear you have a great talent for whist. You will
forgive a woman for curiosity," she said, smiling. "If you will come

and play at my house sometimes you cannot doubt your welcome."
Troubert stroked his chin. ("Caught! Bourbonne was right!" thought

she; "he has his quantum of vanity!")
It was true. The vicar-general was feeling the delightful sensation

which Mirabeau was unable to subdue when in the days of his power he
found gates opening to his carriage which were barred to him in

earlier days.
"Madame," he replied, "my avocations prevent my going much into

society; but for you, what will not a man do?" ("The old maid is going
to die; I'll get a footing at the Listomere's, and serve them if they

serve me," thought he. "It is better to have them for friends than
enemies.")

Madame de Listomere went home, hoping that the bishop" target="_blank" title="n.大主教">archbishop would
complete the work of peace so auspiciously begun. But Birotteau was

fated to gain nothing by his relinquishment. Mademoiselle Gamard died
the next day. No one felt surprised when her will was opened to find

that she had left everything to the Abbe Troubert. Her fortune was
appraised at three hundred thousand francs. The vicar-general sent to

Madame de Listomere two notes of invitation for the services and for
the funeralprocession of his friend; one for herself and one for her

nephew.
"We must go," she said.

"It can't be helped," said Monsieur de Bourbonne. "It is a test to
which Troubert puts you. Baron, you must go to the cemetery," he

added, turning to the lieutenant, who, unluckily for him, had not left
Tours.

The services took place, and were performed with unusual
ecclesiastical magnificence. Only one person wept, and that was

Birotteau, who, kneeling in a side chapel and seen by none, believed
himself guilty of the death and prayed sincerely for the soul of the

deceased, bitterly deploring that he was not able to obtain her
forgiveness before she died.

The Abbe Troubert followed the body of his friend to the grave; at the
verge of which he delivered a discourse in which, thanks to his

eloquence, the narrow life the old maid had lived was enlarged to
monumental proportions. Those present took particular note of the

following words in the peroration:--
"This life of days devoted to God and to His religion, a life adorned

with noble actions silently performed, and with modest and hidden
virtues, was crushed by a sorrow which we might call undeserved if we

could forget, here at the verge of this grave, that our afflictions
are sent by God. The numerous friends of this saintly woman, knowing