"Your address?" replied M. Arnault. "Keep it to drive your horse to."
Another day, on the Champs-Élysées, he passed by a priest without saluting him. We have said that M. Arnault was very short-sighted; besides, he was not very fond of black men, as they were called at that time. The priest, whom he had almost jostled against, turned round.
"There goes a Jacobin," he said, "he jostles against me and does not salute me."[2]
"Monsieur," replied M. Arnault, "do not be more exacting than the Gospel: Extra ecclesiam nulla est salus."[3]
I see I have forgotten among all these matters to speak of Madame Arnault. She was about forty when I was first introduced to her and she was still a charming little woman at that age, dark, pretty, plump, full of airs and graces. Madame Arnault was cordially good to me for five years, then things changed. Perhaps it was my own fault: the reader shall judge when the time comes.
[1] The Abbé Geoffrey.
[2] Et qui ne me salue pas.
[3] Hors de l'Église, pas de salut!