priest left very early.

Then the husband said, very quietly:

"Perhaps you went a little bit too far with the priest."

But Joseph immediately exclaimed:

"Well, that's pretty good! As if I would be on my guard with a
shaveling! And say, do me the pleasure of not imposing him on me any
more at meals. You can both make use of him as much as you wish, but
don't serve him up to your friends, hang it!"

"But, my friends, think of his holy--"

Joseph Mouradour interrupted him:

"Yes, I know; they have to be treated like 'rosieres.' But let them
respect my convictions, and I will respect theirs!"

That was all for that day.

As soon as Madame de Meroul entered the parlor, the next morning, she
noticed in the middle of the table three newspapers which made her start
the Voltaire, the Republique-Francaise and the Justice. Immediately
Joseph Mouradour, still in blue, appeared on the threshold, attentively
reading the Intransigeant. He cried:

"There's a great article in this by Rochefort. That fellow is a wonder!"

He read it aloud, emphasizing the parts which especially pleased him, so
carried away by enthusiasm that he did not notice his friend's entrance.
Monsieur de Meroul was holding in his hand the Gaulois for himself, the
Clarion for his wife.

The fiery prose of the master writer who overthrew the empire, spouted
with violence, sung in the southern accent, rang throughout the peaceful
parsons seemed to spatter the walls and century-old furniture with a
hail of bold, ironical and destructive words.

The man and the woman, one standing, the other sitting, were listening
with astonishment, so shocked that they could not move.

In a burst of eloquence Mouradour finished the last paragraph, then
exclaimed triumphantly:

"Well! that's pretty strong!"

Then, suddenly, he noticed the two sheets which his friend was carrying,
and he, in turn, stood speechless from surprise. Quickly walking toward
him he demanded angrily:

"What are you doing with those papers?"

Monsieur de Meroul answered hesitatingly:

"Why--those--those are my papers!"

"Your papers! What are you doing--making fun of me? You will do me the
pleasure of reading mine; they will limber up your ideas, and as for
yours--there! that's what I do with them."

And before his astonished host could stop him, he had seized the two
newspapers and thrown them out of the window. Then he solemnly handed
the Justice to Madame de Meroul, the Voltaire