"My sons, don't butt your head straight at the thing,--you're too weak; go at it sideways.

Lay low, play dead; the little woman is scared.
I tell you, the thing'll come to an end before long; she'll leave the place, and if she does the Shopman will follow her, for she's his passion.

That's your plan.

Only, to make 'em go faster, my advice is to get rid of their counsellor, their support, our spy, our ape--" "Who's that ?" "The damned abbe, of course," said Tonsard; "that hunter after sins, who thinks the host is food enough for us." "That's true," cried Vaudoyer; "we were happy enough till he came.

We ought to get rid of that eater of the good God,--he's the real enemy." "Finikin," added Fourchon, using a nickname which the abbe owed to his prim and rather puny appearance, "might be led into temptation and fall into the power of some sly girl, for he fasts so much.