"Yes, your reverence, I have put the wine in the vessels. … But la! it is not to be compared to what you will drink presently, when the midnight mass is over. If you only saw that in the dining hall of the chateau! The decanters are all full of wines glowing with every colour! … And the silver plate, the chased epergnes, the flowers, the lustres! … Never will such another midnight repast be seen. The noble marquis has invited all the lords of the neighbourhood. At least forty of you will sit down to table, without reckoning the farm bailiff and the notary Oh, how lucky is your reverence to be one of them! … After a mere sniff of those fine turkeys, the scent of truffles follows me everywhere. … Yum!"
"Come now, come now, my child. Let us keep from the sin of gluttony, on the night of the Nativity especially. ... Be quick and light the wax-tapers and ring the first bell for the mass; for it's nearly midnight and we must not be behind time."
This conversation took place on a Christmas night in the year of grace one thousand six hundred and something, between the Reverend Dom Balaguère (formerly Prior of the Barnabites, now paid chaplain of the Lords of Trinquelague), and his little clerk Garrigou, or at least him whom he took for his little clerk Garrigou, for you must know that the devil had on that night assumed the round face and soft features of the young sacristan, in order the more effectually to lead the reverend father into temptation, and make him commit the dreadful sin of gluttony. Well then, while the supposed Garrigou (hum!) was with all his might making
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