r makes a mistake.

"He declares that he never reached his limit, but as he acknowledges that
his observations cease to be exact when he has passed ninety, one cannot
depend absolutely on the truth of that statement.

"When Matthew acknowledges that he has passed ninety, you may rest
assured that he is blind drunk.

"On these occasions his wife, Melie, another marvel, flies into a fury.
She waits for him at the door of the house, and as he enters she roars at
him:

"'So there you are, slut, hog, giggling sot!'

"Then Matthew, who is not laughing any longer, plants himself opposite
her and says in a severe tone:

"'Be still, Melie; this is no time to talk; wait till to-morrow.'

"If she keeps on shouting at him, he goes up to her and says in a shaky
voice:

"'Don't bawl any more. I have had about ninety; I am not counting any
more. Look out, I am going to hit you!'

"Then Melie beats a retreat.

"If, on the following day, she reverts to the subject, he laughs in her
face and says:

"'Come, come! We have said enough. It is past. As long as I have not
reached my limit there is no harm done. But if I go, past that I will
allow you to correct me, my word on it!'"

We had reached the top of the hill. The road entered the delightful
forest of Roumare.

Autumn, marvellous autumn, blended its gold and purple with the remaining
traces of verdure. We passed through Duclair. Then, instead of going on
to Jumieges, my friend turned to the left and, taking a crosscut, drove
in among the trees.

And presently from the top of a high hill we saw again the magnificent
valley of the Seine and the winding river beneath us.

At our right a very small slate-covered building, with a bell tower as
large as a sunshade, adjoined a pretty house with green Venetian blinds,
and all covered with honeysuckle and roses.

"Here are some friends!" cried a big voice, and Matthew appeared on the
threshold. He was a man about sixty, thin and with a goatee and long,
white mustache.

My friend shook him by the hand and introduced me, and Matthew took us
into a clean kitchen, which served also as a dining-room. He said:

"I have no elegant apartment, monsieur. I do not like to get too far away
from the food. The saucepans, you see, keep me company." Then, turning to
my friend:

"Why did you come on Thursday? You know quite well that this is the day I
consult my Guardian Saint. I cannot go out this afternoon."

And running to the door