"And you, too, citizen minister," he answered, cordially grasping the hand which Fouché extended to him, "you have so slightly changed that I believe myself recurring to the time when old Vieil allotted us our tasks."
The figure of the minister assumed an appearance of cheerfulness which was by no means habitual. Perhaps the sight of an old college comrade served to relieve him of some disagreeable reflections, perhaps it recalled to a deputy of the convention the recollection of the time when his life was simple and innocent.
"Sit down there," he said in a gay tone, "and tell me how you have got on in this world, since we lost sight of each other."
"I have lived for many years as happily as possible," replied Michel with a sigh; "for shortly after my ordination, I obtained a living in the most agreeable village of Burgundy."
"A poor position at present that of a pastor must be!" replied the minister, shaking his head.
"So poor in fact that after having been thrust out of the door of my manse, ruined, persecuted, I have lived during the last seven years on the benefactions of some charitable, kind souls."
"And why the devil did you not try to get out of your difficulties? You should bestir yourself."
"Bestir, bestir! That is easy said. At first I was obliged to hide myself in the farms, in the cottages, because I was suspected, or they pretended so; and I would ask you of what should I be suspected? But in short, matters proceeded thus in the department of the Cote-d'Or."
"And in many other departments," said Fouché; "but when you no longer feared for your head, you should have thought of your purse."
"If thinking of it would have filled it, it would never have become empty," replied Michel with a sorrowful smile. "I believe more ideas pass through the mind of a poor fellow who is trying to gain a crown than passed through the mind of Homer when writing the Iliad or Odyssey."