discussion which a variety of asides rendered still more curious.
Suddenly, he stood up in the middle of the room.

"Listen to the old one, he's drunk!" said Tonsard, "and when he is, he
is twice as full of deviltry; he has his own and that of the wine--"

"Spanish wine, and that trebles it!" cried Fourchon, laughing like a
satyr. "My sons, don't butt your head straight at the thing,--you're
too weak; go at it sideways. Lay low, play dead; the little woman is
scared. I tell you, the thing'll come to an end before long; she'll
leave the place, and if she does the Shopman will follow her, for
she's his passion. That's your plan. Only, to make 'em go faster, my
advice is to get rid of their counsellor, their support, our spy, our
ape--"

"Who's that?"

"The damned abbe, of course," said Tonsard; "that hunter after sins,
who thinks the host is food enough for us."

"That's true," cried Vaudoyer; "we were happy enough till he came. We
ought to get rid of that eater of the good God,--he's the real enemy."

"Finikin," added Fourchon, using a nickname which the abbe owed to his
prim and rather puny appearance, "might be led into temptation and
fall into the power of some sly girl, for he fasts so much. Then if we
could catch him in the act and drum him up with a good charivari, the
bishop would be obliged to send him elsewhere. It would please old
Rigou devilish well. Now if your daughter, Courtecuisse, would leave
Auxerre--she's a pretty girl, and if she'd take to piety, she might