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long as he had any money; when he no longer had any, he
visited the rich.
As he made his cassocks last a long while, and did not
wish to have it noticed, he never went out in the town with-
out his wadded purple cloak. This inconvenienced him
somewhat in summer.
On his return, he dined. The dinner resembled his break-
fast.
At half-past eight in the evening he supped with his sis-
ter, Madame Magloire standing behind them and serving
them at table. Nothing could be more frugal than this re-
past. If, however, the Bishop had one of his cures to supper,
Madame Magloire took advantage of the opportunity to
serve Monseigneur with some excellent fish from the lake,
or with some fine game from the mountains. Every cure
furnished the pretext for a good meal: the Bishop did not
interfere. With that exception, his ordinary diet consisted
only of vegetables boiled in water, and oil soup. Thus it was
said in the town, when the Bishop does not indulge in the
cheer of a cure, he indulges in the cheer of a trappist.
After supper he conversed for half an hour with Made-
moiselle Baptistine and Madame Magloire; then he retired
to his own room and set to writing, sometimes on loose
sheets, and again on the margin of some folio. He was a
man of letters and rather learned. He left behind him five
or six very curious manuscripts; among others, a disserta-
tion on this verse in Genesis, In the beginning, the spirit of
God floated upon the waters. With this verse he compares
three texts: the Arabic verse which says, The winds of God