Page 133 - les-miserables

‘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 mon-
ey. 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 gal-
leys. 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. We could not see
very well. He spoke; but he was too far off, and we did not
hear. That is what a bishop is like.’
While he was speaking, the Bishop had gone and shut
the door, which had remained wide open.
Madame Magloire returned. She brought a silver fork
and spoon, which she placed on the table.
‘Madame Magloire,’ said the Bishop, ‘place those things
as near the fire as possible.’ And turning to his guest: ‘The
night wind is harsh on the Alps. You must be cold, sir.’
Each time that he uttered the word sir, in his voice which
was so gently grave and polished, the man’s face lighted up.

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