y was the first to break it. He
raised himself on one elbow, took a bit of his cheek between his thumb
and his forefinger, as one does mechanically when one interrogates and
judges, and appealed to the Bishop with a gaze full of all the forces of
the death agony. It was almost an explosion.

"Yes, sir, the people have been suffering a long while. And hold! that
is not all, either; why have you just questioned me and talked to me
about Louis XVII.? I know you not. Ever since I have been in these parts
I have dwelt in this enclosure alone, never setting foot outside, and
seeing no one but that child who helps me. Your name has reached me in
a confused manner, it is true, and very badly pronounced, I must admit;
but that signifies nothing: clever men have so many ways of imposing on
that honest goodman, the people. By the way, I did not hear the sound of
your carriage; you have left it yonder, behind the coppice at the fork
of the roads, no doubt. I do not know you, I tell you. You have told me
that you are the Bishop; but that affords me no information as to your
moral personality. In short, I repeat my question. Who are you? You are
a bishop; that is to say, a prince of the church, one of those gilded
men with heraldic bearings and revenues, who have vast prebends,--the
bishopric of D---- fifteen thousand francs settled income, ten thousand
in perquisites; total, twenty-five thousand francs,--who have kitchens,
who have liveries, who make good cheer, who eat moor-hens on Friday, who
strut about, a lackey before, a lackey behind, in a gala coach, and
who have palaces, and who roll in their carriages in the name of Jesus
Christ who went barefoot! You are a prelate,--revenues, palace, horses,
servants, good table, all the sensualities of life; you have this like
the rest, and like the rest, you enjoy it; it is well; but this says
either too much or too little; this does not enlighten me upon the
intrinsic and essential value of the man who comes with the probable
intention of bringing wisdom to me. To whom do I speak? Who are you?"

The Bishop hung his head and replied, "Vermis sum--I am a worm."

"A worm of the earth in a carriage?" growled the conventionary.

It was the conventionary's turn to be arrogant, and the Bishop's to be
humble.

The Bishop resumed mildly:--

"So be it, sir. But explain to me how my carriage, which is a few paces
off behind the trees yonder, how my good table and the moor-hens which I
eat on