Maman Vacher and the baker, seeing that the tale was done, continued to regard Pere Philibert each with a foolish grin.

Pere Philibert took snuff slowly.

"My children," said he, tapping his box, "in this tale (which, by the way, is historical) there surely lurks a lesson for you both. You, Pierre Champollion, may read in it that he who, with an eye to his private profit, only runs counter to ancient custom in such a town as our Ambialet, may chance to knock his head upon stones. And you, Maman Vacher--What was the price of that chanticleer of yours?"

"Indeed, reverend father, I could not have asked less than six francs.

A prize-winner, if you remember."

"You valued it at twelve in your threats and outcries, and that after you had stewed his carca.s.s down for a soup! . . . Tut, tut, my children!

You have your lesson--take it and go in amity."