when she came in, for she had said nothing, contrary to her habit, but just sat down and took up her sewing without even looking in my direction. I felt on such good terms with all the world that I wanted to share my pleasure, so just for the sake of being amiable, I said, "Why did they ring the great bell this morning?"
"It is St. Martin's Day, Father," said she, surprised at the question.
To think that I should have so lost myself in dreams as to forget the god of our town and herself! Among all the new friends in Plutarch, I could see in my mind's eye this old one, as good as any of the rest of them, dividing his long cloak with his sword, as his legend tells us."How could I forget St. Martin?" cried I.
"I don't know indeed," said Martine, "except that these days you don't seem to remember anything in earth or Heaven but that stupid book of yours."
This made me laugh, for I had often noticed that she cast a malevolent eye on old Plutarch when she came in the morning and found him in my bed; women seldom have a real love for books; they see in them either lovers or rivals. When they themselves read they always have an uneasy sense of infidelity, and that is why they cannot bear to see
