exhibit them to any one.«
    »Forgive me, my dear sir,« said the Curé, »you know you permitted the great
English Bibliomaniac, Dr. Dibdin, to consult your curious reliques, and you know
how highly he spoke of them.«
    »What could I do, my dear friend?« said the Marquis; »the good Doctor had
heard some exaggerated account of these remnants of what was once a library - he
had stationed himself in the auberge below, determined to carry his point or die
under the walls. I even heard of his taking the altitude of the turret, in order
to provide scaling-ladders. You would not have had me reduce a respectable
divine, though of another church, to such an act of desperation? I could not
have answered it in conscience.«
    »But you know, besides, Monsieur le Marquis,« continued the Curé, »that Dr.
Dibdin was so much grieved at the dilapidation your library had sustained, that
he avowedly envied the powers of our church, so much did he long to launch an
anathema at the heads of the perpetrators.«
    »His resentment was in proportion to his disappointment, I suppose,« said
our entertainer.
    »Not so,« said the Curé; »for he was so enthusiastic on the value of what
remains, that I am convinced nothing but your positive request to the contrary
prevented the Chateau of Hautlieu occupying at least twenty pages in that
splendid work of which he sent us a copy, and which will remain a lasting
monument of his zeal and erudition.«
    »Dr. Dibdin is extremely polite,« said the Marquis; »and when we have had
our coffee - here it comes - we will go to the turret; and I hope, as Monsieur
has not despised my poor fare, so he will pardon the state of my confused
library, while I shall be equally happy if it can afford anything which can give
him amusement. Indeed,« he added, »were it otherwise, you, my good father, have
every right over books, which, without your intervention, would never have
returned to the owner.«
    Although this additional act of courtesy was evidently wrested by the
importunity of the Curé from his reluctant friend, whose desire to conceal the
nakedness of the land, and the extent of his losses, seemed always to struggle
with his disposition to be obliging, I could not help accepting an offer, which,
in strict politeness, I ought perhaps to have refused. But then the remains of a
collection of such curiosity as had given