e Marquis was not listening. Raising one hand, he pointed to the
door with a proud and tragic gesture, and he said angrily and gasping
for breath: 'Leave this room ... go out ... robber of souls.... Go out
from here, you violator of consciences.... Go out from here, you
picklock of dying men's doors!'

"The Abbe went backwards, and I also went to the door, beating a retreat
with the clergyman; and the two little women who were avenged got up,
leaving their omelette only half eaten, and went and stood on either
side of my uncle's armchair, putting their hands on his arms to calm
him, and to protect him against the criminal enterprises of the Family
and of Religion.

"The Abbe and I rejoined my mother in the kitchen, and Melani again
offered us chairs, 'I knew quite well that it would not go of its own
accord; we must try some other means, otherwise he will escape us.' And
they began deliberating afresh, my mother being of one opinion and the
Abbe of another, while I held a third.

"We had been discussing the matter in a low voice for half an hour,
perhaps, when a great noise of furniture being moved and of cries
uttered by my uncle, more vehement and terrible even, than the former
had been, made us all four jump up.

"Through the doors and walls we could hear him shouting: 'Go out ... out
... rascals, ... humbugs, get out scoundrels ... get out ... get
out!...'

"Melani 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, two men, one behind the other,
seemed to be waiting till he should be dead with rage.

"By his long, ridiculous coat, his long English shoes, by his manners of
a tutor out of a situation, by his high collar, white necktie and
straight hair, by his humble face of a priest, 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 priest, in hopes of a better fate. 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 violently that they embraced each other twice,
betwee