lows. Then feeling bored, he
suggested that he and La Teuse should have a game at cards. They had
endless bouts of 'Beggar-my-neighbour' together, that being the only
game which La Teuse had ever been able to learn. Abbe Mouret would
smilingly glance at the first few cards flung on the table and would
then gradually sink into reverie, remaining for hours forgetful of his
self-restraint, oblivious of his surroundings, beneath the suspicious
glances of Brother Archangias.

That evening La Teuse felt so cross that she had talked of going to bed
as soon as the cloth was removed. The Brother, however, wanted his
game of cards. So he caught hold of her shoulders and sat her down, so
roughly that the chair creaked beneath her. And forthwith he began to
shuffle the cards. Desiree, who hated him, had gone off carrying her
dessert, which she generally took upstairs with her every evening to eat
in bed.

'I want the red cards,' said La Teuse.

Then the struggle began. The old woman at first won some of the
Brother's best cards. But before long two aces fell together on the
table.

'Here's a battle!' she cried, wild with excitement.

She threw down a nine, which rather alarmed her, but as the Brother,
in his turn, only put down a seven, she picked up the cards with a
triumphant air. At the end of half an hour, however, she had only gained
two aces, so that the chances remained fairly equal. And a quarter of
an hour later she lost an ace. The knaves and kings and queens were
perpetually coming and going as the battle furiously progressed.

'It's a splendid game, eh?' said Brother Archangias, turning towards
Abbe Mouret.

But when he saw him sitting there, so absorbed in his reverie, with such
a gentle smile playing unconsciously round his lips, he roughly raised
his voice:

'Why, Monsieur le Cure, you are not paying any attention to us! It isn't
polite of you. We are only playing on your account. We were trying
to amuse you. Come and watch the game. It would do you more good than
dozing and dreaming away there. Where were you just now?'

The priest started. He said nothing, but with quivering eyelids tried to
force himself to look at the game. The play went on vigorously. La Teuse
won her ace back, and then lost it again. On some evenings they would
fight in this way over the aces for quite four hours, and often they
would go off to bed, angry at having failed to bring the contest to a
decisive issue.

'But, dear me! I