"Bah! you must pretend you do, out of politeness."
"It is no wonder your cousin Cécile says you are a bear in manners," added my mother, with a shrug of her shoulders.
This accusation set me thinking.
"I beg your pardon, M. l'abbé," I said; "I will do just what you wish."
"Very good," said the abbé; "and, to make the acquaintance of our Parisian visitors, come and have lunch with us after high mass on Sunday."
There were eight days in which to prepare myself for my office of attendant cavalier.
During those eight days an important event occurred.
When my brother-in-law left Villers-Cotterets he left part of his library behind.
Amongst these books, there was a work covered in smooth red paper, comprising some eight or ten volumes. My brother-in-law had remarked to my mother: