murder Rigou to get them back. He loves a crime as he does a
pleasure."

"I have seen enough for to-day; take me home, gentlemen," murmured the
countess, putting her hand on Emile's arm.

She bowed sadly to Madame Michaud, after watching La Pechina safely
back to the pavilion. Olympe's depression was transferred to her
mistress.

"Ah, madame," said the abbe, as they continued their way, "can it be
that the difficulty of doing good is about to deter you? For the last
five years I have slept on a pallet in a parsonage which has no
furniture; I say mass in a church without believers; I preach to no
hearers; I minister without fees or salary; I live on the six hundred
francs the law allows me, asking nothing of my bishop, and I give the
third of that in charity. Still, I am not hopeless. If you knew what
my winters are in this place you would understand the strength of
those words,--I am not hopeless. I keep myself warm with the belief
that we can save this valley and bring it back to God. No matter for
ourselves, madame; think of the future! If it is our duty to say to
the poor, 'Learn how to be poor; that is, how to work, to endure, to
strive,' it is equally our duty to say to the rich, 'Learn your duty
as prosperous men,'--that is to say, 'Be wise, be intelligent in your
benevolence; pious and virtuous in the place to which God has called
you.' Ah! madame, you are only the steward of Him who grants you
wealth; if you do not obey His behests you will never transmit to your
children the prosperity He gives you. You will rob your posterity. If
you follow in the steps of that poor singer's selfishness, which
caused the evils that now terrify us, you will bring back the