“You call that supper, Gorenflot! Herbs and cheese?”
“We are in the beginning of Lent, brother; we must think of our souls,” replied Gorenflot, raising his eyes to heaven.
Chicot looked astounded; he had so often seen Gorenflot feast in a different manner during Lent.
“Our souls!” said he; “and what the devil have herbs and water to do with them?”
“We are forbidden to eat meat on Wednesdays and Fridays.”
“But when did you breakfast?”
“I have not breakfasted, my brother,” said the monk.
“Not breakfasted! Then what have you done?”
“Composed a discourse,” said Gorenflot proudly.
“A discourse, and what for?”