there is no such thing as either good or evil；there is vegetation.
Let us seek the real.
Let us get to the bottom of it.
Let us go into it thoroughly.
What the deuce！let us go to the bottom of it！
We must scent out the truth；dig in the earth for it，and seize it.
Then it gives you exquisite joys.Then you grow strong，and you laugh.
I am square on the bottom，I am.
Immortality，Bishop，is a chance，a waiting for dead men's shoes.
Ah！what a charming promise！trust to it，if you like！What a fine lot Adam has！
We are souls，and we shall be angels，with blue wings on our shoulder-blades.Do come to my assistance：is it not Tertullian who says that the blessed shall travel from star to star？
Very well.
We shall be the grasshoppers of the stars.And then，besides，we shall see God.
Ta，ta，ta！
What twaddle all these paradises are！
God is a nonsensical monster.
I would not say that in the Moniteur，egad！but I may whisper it among friends.Inter pocula.
To sacrifice the world to paradise is to let slip the prey for the shadow.
Be the dupe of the infinite！I'm not such a fool.
I am a nought.
I call myself Monsieur le Comte Nought，senator.
Did I exist before my birth？
No.Shall I exist after death？
No.What am I？
A little dust collected in an organism.What am I to do on this earth？
The choice rests with me：suffer or enjoy.
Whither will suffering lead me？
To nothingness；but I shall have suffered.
Whither will enjoyment lead me？To nothingness；but I shall have enjoyed myself.
My choice is made.One must eat or be eaten.
I shall eat.
It is better to be the tooth than the grass.
Such is my wisdom.
After which，go whither I push thee，the grave-digger is there；the Pantheon for some of us：all falls into the great hole.
End.
Finis.
Total liquidation.This is the vanishing-point.Death is death，believe me.I laugh at the idea of there being any one who has anything to tell me on that subject.
Fables of nurses；bugaboo for children；Jehovah for men.
No；our to-morrow is the night.
Beyond the tomb there is nothing but equal nothingness.
You have been Sardanapalus，you have been Vincent de Paul——it makes no difference.
That is the truth.
Then live your life，above all things.
Make use of your_I_while you have it.
In truth，Bishop，I tell you that I have a philosophy of my own，and I have my philosophers.
I don't let myself be taken in with that nonsense.
Of course，there must be something for those who are down，——for the barefooted beggars，knife-grinders，and miserable wretches.
Legends，chimeras，the soul，immortality，paradise，the stars，are provided for them to swallow.They gobble it down.
They spread it on their dry bread.He who has nothing else has the good.
God.
That is the least he can have.
I oppose no objection to that；but I reserve Monsieur Naigeon for myself.
The good God is good for the populace.'
The Bishop clapped his hands.
'That's talking！'he exclaimed.
'What an excellent and really marvellous thing is this materialism！
Not every one who wants it can have it.
Ah！when one does have it，one is no longer a dupe，one does not stupidly allow one's self to be exiled like Cato，nor stoned like Stephen，nor burned alive like Jeanne d'Arc.Those who have succeeded in procuring this admirable materialism have the joy of feeling themselves irresponsible，and of thinking that they can devour everything without uneasiness，——places，sinecures，dignities，power，whether well or ill acquired，lucrative recantations，useful treacheries，savory capitulations of conscience，——and that they shall enter the tomb with their digestion accomplished.
How agreeable that is！I do not say that with reference to you，senator.
Nevertheless，it is impossible for me to refrain from congratulating you.
You great lords have，so you say，a philosophy of your own，and for yourselves，which is exquisite，refined，accessible to the rich alone，good for all sauces，and which seasons the voluptuousness of life admirably.
This philosophy has been extracted from the depths，and unearthed by special seekers.
But you are good-natured princes，and you do not think it a bad thing that belief in the good God should constitute the philosophy of the people，very much as the goose stuffed with chestnuts is the truffled turkey of the poor.'
Ⅸ THE BROTHER AS DEPICTED BY THE SISTER
In order to furnish an idea of the private establishment of the Bishop of D——，and of the manner in which those two sainted women subordinated their actions，their thoughts，their feminine instincts even，which are easily alarmed，to the habits and purposes of the Bishop，without his even taking the trouble of speaking in order to explain them，we cannot do better than transcribe in this place a letter from Mademoiselle Baptistine to Madame the Vicomtess de Boischevron，the friend of her childhood.
This letter is in our possession.
D——，Dec.16，18——.MY GOOD MADAM：
Not a day passes without our speaking of you.It is our established custom；but there is another reason besides.Just imagine，while washing and dusting the ceilings and walls，Madam Magloire has made some discoveries；now our two chambers hung with antique paper whitewashed over，would not discredit a chateau in the style of yours.
Madam Magloire has pulled off all the paper.There were things beneath.
My drawing-room，which contains no furniture，and which we use for spreading out the linen after washing，is fifteen feet in height，eighteen square，with a ceiling which was formerly painted and gilded，and with beams，as in yours.This was covered with a cloth while this was the hospital.And the woodwork was of the era of our grandmothers.
But my room is the one you ought to see.
Madam Magloire has discovered，under at least ten thicknesses of paper pasted on top，some paintings，which without being good are very tolerable.
The subject is Telemachus being knighted by Minerva in some gardens，the name of which escapes me.
In short，where the Roman ladies repaired on one single night.
What shall I say to you？
