doors and walls we could hear him shouting: 'Go out--out
--rascals--humbugs, get out, scoundrels--get out--get out!'

"Melanie rushed in, but came back immediately to call me to help her,
and I hastened in. Opposite to my uncle, who was terribly excited by
anger, almost standing up and vociferating, stood two men, one behind
the other, who seemed to be waiting till he should be dead with rage.

"By his ridiculous long coat, his long English shoes, his manners of
a tutor out of a position, his high collar, white necktie and straight
hair, his humble face of a false priest of a bastard religion, I
immediately recognized the first as a Protestant minister.

"The second was the porter of the house, who belonged to the reformed
religion and had followed us, and having seen our defeat, had gone to
fetch his own pastor, in hopes that he might meet a better reception. My
uncle seemed mad with rage! If the sight of the Catholic priest, of the
priest of his ancestors, had irritated the Marquis de Fumerol, who
had become a freethinker, the sight of his porter's minister made him
altogether beside himself. I therefore took the two men by the arm and
threw them out of the room so roughly that they bumped against each
other twice, between the two doors which led to the staircase; and then
I disappeared in my turn and returned to the kitchen, which was our
headquarters in order to take counsel with my mother and the abbe.

"But Melanie came back in terror, sobbing out:

"'He is dying--he is dying--come immediately--he is dying.'

"My mother rushed out. My uncle had fallen to the ground, and lay full
length along the floor, without moving. I fancy he was already dead. My
mother was superb at that moment! She went straight up to the two girls
who were kneeling by the body and trying to raise it up, and pointing
to the door with irresistible authority, dignity and majesty, she said:
'Now it is time for you to leave the room.'

"And they went out without a word of protest. I must add, that I was
getting ready to turn them out as unceremoniously as I had done the
parson and the porter.

"Then the Abbe Poivron administered the last sacraments to my uncle with
all the customary prayers, and remitted all his sins, while my mother
sobbed as she knelt near her brother. Suddenly, however, she exclaimed:
'He recognized me; he pressed my hand; I am sure he recognized
me!!!--and that he thanked me! Oh, God, what happiness!'

"Poor mamma! I