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white beard. Methusalem is a street arab beside Cupid. For
sixty centuries men and women have got out of their scrape
by loving. The devil, who is cunning, took to hating man;
man, who is still more cunning, took to loving woman. In
this way he does more good than the devil does him harm.
This craft was discovered in the days of the terrestrial para-
dise. The invention is old, my friends, but it is perfectly new.
Profit by it. Be Daphnis and Chloe, while waiting to become
Philemon and Baucis. Manage so that, when you are with
each other, nothing shall be lacking to you, and that Co-
sette may be the sun for Marius, and that Marius may be
the universe to Cosette. Cosette, let your fine weather be
the smile of your husband; Marius, let your rain be your
wife’s tears. And let it never rain in your household. You
have filched the winning number in the lottery; you have
gained the great prize, guard it well, keep it under lock and
key, do not squander it, adore each other and snap your fin-
gers at all the rest. Believe what I say to you. It is good sense.
And good sense cannot lie. Be a religion to each other.
Each man has his own fashion of adoring God. Saperlotte!
the best way to adore God is to love one’s wife. I love thee!
that’s my catechism. He who loves is orthodox. The oath of
Henri IV. places sanctity somewhere between feasting and
drunkenness. Ventre-saint-gris! I don’t belong to the reli-
gion of that oath. Woman is forgotten in it. This astonishes
me on the part of Henri IV. My friends, long live women!
I am old, they say; it’s astonishing how much I feel in the
mood to be young. I should like to go and listen to the bag-
pipes in the woods. Children who contrive to be beautiful