TURN VAGABOND.
On re-entering the cloister, the at the door of his his Jehan du Moulin, who was waiting for him, and who had the of waiting by on the with a of charcoal, a profile of his brother, with a nose.
Dom Claude looked at his brother; his were elsewhere. That scamp’s had so often to the priest’s physiognomy, was now powerless to melt the which more every day over that corrupted, mephitic, and soul.
“Brother,” said Jehan timidly, “I am come to see you.”
The did not his eyes.
“What then?”
“Brother,” the hypocrite, “you are so good to me, and you give me such wise that I always return to you.”
“What next?”
“Alas! brother, you were perfectly right when you said to me,—“Jehan! Jehan! doctrina, disciplina. Jehan, be wise, Jehan, be learned, Jehan, pass not the night of the college without occasion and of the master. Cudgel not the Picards: noli, Joannes, Picardos. Rot not like an ass, illitteratus, on the seats of the school. Jehan, allow to be at the of the master. Jehan go every to chapel, and sing there an with and to Madame the Virgin Mary.”—Alas! what excellent was that!”
“And then?”
“Brother, you a culprit, a criminal, a wretch, a libertine, a man of enormities! My dear brother, Jehan of your and to under foot. I have been well for it, and God is just. As long as I had money, I feasted, I lead a and life. Oh! how and is which is so in front! Now I have no longer a blank; I have my napery, my shirt and my towels; no more life! The is and I have henceforth, only a which in my nose. The at me. I drink water. I am with and with creditors.”
“The rest?” said the archdeacon.
“Alas! my very dear brother, I should like to settle to a life. I come to you full of contrition, I am penitent. I make my confession. I my violently. You are right in that I should some day a and sub-monitor in the college of Torchi. At the present moment I a for that profession. But I have no more and I must some; I have no more paper, I have no more books, and I must some. For this purpose, I am in need of a little money, and I come to you, brother, with my full of contrition.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes,” said the scholar. “A little money.”
“I have none.”
Then the said, with an air which was and resolute: “Well, brother, I am sorry to be to tell you that very offers and are being to me in another quarter. You will not give me any money? No. In that case I shall a professional vagabond.”
As he these words, he the of Ajax, to see the upon his head.
The said to him,—
“Become a vagabond.”
Jehan him a bow, and the stairs, whistling.
At the moment when he was through the of the cloister, his brother’s window, he that window open, his and the archdeacon’s emerge.
“Go to the devil!” said Dom Claude; “here is the last money which you will from me?”
At the same time, the Jehan a purse, which gave the a big on the forehead, and with which Jehan retreated, and content, like a dog who had been with bones.
