nd-thou each other, Don Drinker, take care in thy turn,
Don Greedy, that I do not make thee taste of my stick, Don Big Paunch,
infirm as I am, Don Brutal."

The vigorous monk for a moment made as though he was about to descend to
chastise the Gascon, but he shrugged his shoulders and said to
Croustillac: "If thou hast ever the impudence to present thyself at the
porter's lodge, thou wilt be thrashed to some purpose. That is the kind
of hospitality thou wilt receive henceforth from the Abbey of St.
Quentin." Then addressing himself to the children: "And you be sure to
tell your father that in eight days he pays or quits the farm, for, I
repeat to you, that there is a farmer more solvent than he who wants
it."

The monk shut the door brusquely.

"I cannot tell it to the children," said the adventurer, speaking to
himself; "that would be a bad example for youth; but I had something
like a feeling of remorse for having aided in the burning of a convent
in the Moravian War--well, it pleases me to imagine that the roasted
ones resembled this fat, big-bellied animal, and it makes me feel quite
cheerful. The scoundrel! to treat those poor children so harshly! It is
strange how I interest myself in them--if I had at least some reason for
it, I should let myself hope. After all, why not clear up my doubts?
What do I risk by it? I have plenty of money. Ah, then, my children,"
said he to the young peasants, "your father is sick and poor? He will
not be vexed to gain a little windfall; although I carry a wallet, I
have a purse. Well, instead of going to dine and sleep at the inn (may
the lightning strike me if I ever set foot in this abbey, the Lord
confound it!) I will go and dine and sleep at your place. I will not be
any trouble to you. I have been a soldier, I am not hard to suit; a
stool in the chimney corner, a morsel of lard, a glass of cider, and for
the night a bundle of fresh straw, the gentle warmth of the stable--that
is all I need; and that means a piece of twenty-four sous which will
come into your house. What do you say to that?"

"My father is not an innkeeper, sir," answered the young boy.

"Bah! bah! my boy, if the good man has sense; if the good mother is a
housekeeper, as she ought to be, they will not regret my coming; this
piece of good luck will make your pot boil for a whole day. Come,
conduct me to your farm, my children; your father would scold you for
not bringing him an old soldier."

In spite of h