There are men who toil at extracting gold；he toiled at the extraction of pity.
Universal misery was his mine.
The sadness which reigned everywhere was but an excuse for unfailing kindness.
Love each other；he declared this to be complete，desired nothing further，and that was the whole of his doctrine.
One day，that man who believed himself to be a'philosopher，'the senator who has already been alluded to，said to the Bishop：
'Just survey the spectacle of the world：all war against all；the strongest has the most wit.
Your love each other is nonsense.'——'Well，'replied Monseigneur Welcome，without contesting the point，'if it is nonsense，the soul should shut itself up in it，as the pearl in the oyster.'
Thus he shut himself up，he lived there，he was absolutely satisfied with it，leaving on one side the prodigious questions which attract and terrify，the fathomless perspectives of abstraction，the precipices of metaphysics——all those profundities which converge，for the apostle in God，for the atheist in nothingness；destiny，good and evil，the way of being against being，the conscience of man，the thoughtful somnambulism of the animal，the transformation in death，the recapitulation of existences which the tomb contains，the incomprehensible grafting of successive loves on the persistent_I_，the essence，the substance，the Nile，and the Ens，the soul，nature，liberty，necessity；perpendicular problems，sinister obscurities，where lean the gigantic archangels of the human mind；formidable abysses，which Lucretius，Manou，Saint Paul，Dante，contemplate with eyes flashing lightning，which seems by its steady gaze on the infinite to cause stars to blaze forth there.
Monseigneur Bienvenu was simply a man who took note of the exterior of mysterious questions without scrutinizing them，and without troubling his own mind with them，and who cherished in his own soul a grave respect for darkness.
BOOK SECOND——THE FALL
Ⅰ THE EVENING OF A DAY OF WALKING
Early in the month of October，1815，about an hour before sunset，a man who was travelling on foot entered the little town of D——The few inhabitants who were at their windows or on their thresholds at the moment stared at this traveller with a sort of uneasiness.It was difficult to encounter a wayfarer of more wretched appearance.He was a man of medium stature，thickset and robust，in the prime of life.
He might have been forty-six or forty-eight years old.A cap with a drooping leather visor partly concealed his face，burned and tanned by sun and wind，and dripping with perspiration.His shirt of coarse yellow linen，fastened at the neck by a small silver anchor，permitted a view of his hairy breast：
he had a cravat twisted into a string；trousers of blue drilling，worn and threadbare，white on one knee and torn on the other；an old gray，tattered blouse，patched on one of the elbows with a bit of green cloth sewed on with twine；a tightly packed soldier knapsack，well buckled and perfectly new，on his back；an enormous，knotty stick in his hand；iron-shod shoes on his stockingless feet；a shaved head and a long beard.
The sweat，the heat，the journey on foot，the dust，added I know not what sordid quality to this dilapidated whole.
His hair was closely cut，yet bristling，for it had begun to grow a little，and did not seem to have been cut for some time.
No one knew him.
He was evidently only a chance passer-by.Whence came he？
From the south；from the seashore，perhaps，for he made his entrance into D——by the same street which，seven months previously，had witnessed the passage of the Emperor Napoleon on his way from Cannes to Paris.
This man must have been walking all day.He seemed very much fatigued.
Some women of the ancient market town which is situated below the city had seen him pause beneath the trees of the boulevard Gassendi，and drink at the fountain which stands at the end of the promenade.
He must have been very thirsty：for the children who followed him saw him stop again for a drink，two hundred paces further on，at the fountain in the market-place.
On arriving at the corner of the Rue Poichevert，he turned to the left，and directed his steps toward the town-hall.He entered，then came out a quarter of an hour later.
A gendarme was seated near the door，on the stone bench which General Drouot had mounted on the 4th of March to read to the frightened throng of the inhabitants of D——the proclamation of the Gulf Juan.
The man pulled off his cap and humbly saluted the gendarme.
The gendarme，without replying to his salute，stared attentively at him，followed him for a while with his eyes，and then entered the town-hall.
There then existed at D——a fine inn at the sign of the Cross of Colbas.
This inn had for a landlord a certain Jacquin Labarre，a man of consideration in the town on account of his relationship to another Labarre，who kept the inn of the Three Dauphins in Grenoble，and had served in the Guides.
At the time of the Emperor's landing，many rumors had circulated throughout the country with regard to this inn of the Three Dauphins.
It was said that General Bertrand，disguised as a carter，had made frequent trips thither in the month of January，and that he had distributed crosses of honor to the soldiers and handfuls of gold to the citizens.
The truth is，that when the Emperor entered Grenoble he had refused to install himself at the hotel of the prefecture；he had thanked the mayor，saying，'I am going to the house of a brave man of my acquaintance'；and he had betaken himself to the Three Dauphins.
This glory of the Labarre of the Three Dauphins was reflected upon the Labarre of the Cross of Colbas，at a distance of five and twenty leagues.It was said of him in the town，'That is the cousin of the man of Grenoble.'
The man bent his steps towards this inn，which was the best in the country-side.He entered the kitchen，which opened on a level with the street.
All the stoves were lighted；a huge fire blazed gayly in the fireplace.
