"_Peste!_ monsieur l'abbe, what an imagination you have!" "Monsieur, we are worthy of our family," replied the abbe, proudly.
"Strange fellow," murmured Fouquet.

Then he added, "That is ingenious.
Carry it out, but shed no blood." Gourville and the abbe set off together, with their heads full of the meditated riot.

The superintendent laid himself down upon some cushions, half valiant with respect to the sinister projects of the morrow, half dreaming of love..