"The Captain smiled, and opening it again handed it to him. Mergy then read upon the first page: La vie très-horrifique du grand Gargantua, père de Pantagruel: composée par M. Alcofribas, abstracteur de Quintessena."
Thus, in a single page, does M. Mérimée place before us a picture of the times, with their mixture of fanaticism and irreligion, their shameless political profligacy and private immorality. Bernard de Mergy cannot prevail with his brother to return to the conventicle: so he accompanies him to mass—not to pray, but hoping to obtain a glimpse of Madame de Turgis, whom he has already seen masked in the street, and whose graceful form and high reputation for beauty have made strong impression on the imagination of this novice in court gallantries. On entering the sacristy, they find the preacher, a jolly monk, surrounded by a dozen young rakes, with whom he bandies jokes more witty than wise.
"'Ah,' cried Béville, 'here is the Captain! Come, George, give us a text. Father Lubin has promised to preach on any one we propose.'
"'Yes,' said the monk; 'but make haste. Mort de ma vie! I ought to be in the pulpit already.'
"'Peste! Father Lubin, you swear like the king,' cried the Captain.
"I bet he would not swear in his sermon,' said Béville.
"'Why not, if the fancy took me?' stoutly retorted the Franciscan.
"'Ten pistoles you do not.'
"'Ten pistoles? Done.'
"'Béville,' cried the Captain, 'I go halves in your wager.'