presented by the embrace of a great nation and a great man on the brink of the abyss.
　　With this exception, he was in all things just, true, equitable, intelligent, humble and dignified, beneficent and kindly, which is only another sort of benevolence.
　　He was a priest, a sage, and a man.
　　It must be admitted, that even in the political views with which we have just reproached him, and which we are disposed to judge almost with severity, he was tolerant and easy, more so, perhaps, than we who are speaking here.
　　The porter of the town-hall had been placed there by the Emperor.
　　He was an old non-commissioned officer of the old guard, a member of the Legion of Honor at Austerlitz, as much of a Bonapartist as the eagle. This poor fellow occasionally let slip inconsiderate remarks, which the law then stigmatized as seditious speeches.
　　After the imperial profile disappeared from the Legion of Honor, he never dressed himself in his regimentals, as he said, so that he should not be obliged to wear his cross.
　　He had himself devoutly removed the imperial effigy from the cross which Napoleon had given him; this made a hole, and he would not put anything in its place. "I will die," he said, "rather than wear the three frogs upon my heart!"
　　He liked to scoff aloud at Louis XVIII.
　　"The gouty old creature in English gaiters!" he said; "let him take himself off to Prussia with that queue of his."
　　He was happy to combine in the same imprecation the two things which he most detested, Prussia and England.
　　He did it so often that he lost his place. There he was, turned out of the house, with his wife and children, and without bread.
　　The Bishop sent for him, reproved him gently, and appointed him beadle in the cathedral.
　　In the course of nine years Monseigneur Bienvenu had, by dint of holy deeds and gentle manners, filled the town of D---- with a sort of tender and filial reverence.
　　Even his conduct towards Napoleon had been accepted and tacitly pardoned, as it were, by the people, the good and weakly flock who adored their emperor, but loved their bishop.


BOOK FIRST--A JUST MAN
CHAPTER XII
　　THE SOLITUDE OF MONSEIGNEUR WELCOME
　　 A bishop is almost always surrounded by a full squadron of little abbes, just as a general is by a covey of young officers. This is what that charming Saint Francois de Sales calls somewhere "les pretres blancs-becs," callow priests.┇┇
　　Every career has its aspirants, who form a train for those who have attained eminence in it. There is no power which has not its dependents.
　　There is no fortune which has not its court.
　　The seekers of the future eddy around the splendid present.
　　Every metropolis has its staff of officials. Every bishop who possesses the least influence has about him his patrol of cherubim from the seminary, which goes the round, and maintains good order in the episcopal palace, and mounts guard over monseigneur's smile.
　　To please a bishop is equivalent to getting one's foot in the stirrup for a sub-diaconate. It is necessary to walk one's path discreetly; the apostleship does not disdain the canonship.
　　Just as there are bigwigs elsewhere, there are big mitres in the Church. These are the bishops who stand well at Court, who are rich, well endowed, skilful, accepted by the world, who know how to pray, no doubt, but who know also how to beg, who feel little scruple at making a whole diocese dance attendance in their person, who are connecting links between the sacristy and diplomacy, who are abbes rather than priests, prelates rather than bishops. Happy those who approach them!
　　Being persons of influence, they create a shower about them, upon the assiduous and the favored, and upon all the young men who understand the art of pleasing, of large parishes, prebends, archidiaconates, chaplaincies, and cathedral posts, while awaiting episcopal honors.
　　As they advance themselves, they cause their satellites to progress also; it is a whole solar