Then you do not require me to pay?"
"No," said the Bishop; "keep your money.
How much have you? Did you not tell me one hundred and nine francs?"
"And fifteen sous," added the man.
"One hundred and nine francs fifteen sous.
And how long did it take you to earn that?"
"Nineteen years."
"Nineteen years!"
The Bishop sighed deeply.
The man continued:
"I have still the whole of my money. In four days I have spent only twenty-five sous, which I earned by helping unload some wagons at Grasse.
Since you are an abbe, I will tell you that we had a chaplain in the galleys.
And one day I saw a bishop there.
Monseigneur is what they call him.
He was the Bishop of Majore at Marseilles.
He is the cure who rules over the other cures, you understand.
Pardon me, I say that very badly; but it is such a far-off thing to me!
You understand what we are! He said mass in the middle of the galleys, on an altar.
He had a pointed thing, made of gold, on his head; it glittered in the bright light of midday.
We were all ranged in lines on the three sides, with cannons with lighted matches facing us.