“While they were thus embarrassed, a large chest was brought and deposited in the presbytery for the Bishop, by two unknown horsemen, who departed on the instant. The chest was opened; it contained a cope of cloth of gold, a mitre ornamented with diamonds, an archbishop's cross, a magnificent crosier,—all the pontifical vestments which had been stolen a month previously from the treasury of Notre Dame d'Embrun. In the chest was a paper, on which these words were written, "From Cravatte to Monseigneur Bienvenu.""Did not I say that things would come right of themselves?" said the Bishop. Then he added, with a smile, "To him who contents himself with the surplice of a curate, God sends the cope of an archbishop.""Monseigneur," murmured the cure, throwing back his head with a smile. "God—-or the Devil."The Bishop looked steadily at the cure, and repeated with authority, "God!”

“Did not i say that things would come right of themselves? said the Bishop. Then he added, with a smile, To him who contents himself with the surplice of a curate, God sends the cope of an archbishop. Monseigneur, murmured the cure, throwing back his head with a smile. God or the Devil.”

“There exists yonder in the mountains," said the Bishop, "a tiny community no bigger than that, which I have not seen for three years. They are my good friends, those gentle and honest shepherds. They own one goat out of every thirty that they tend. They make very pretty woollen cords of various colors, and they play the mountain airs on little flutes with six holes. They need to be told of the good God now and then. What would they say to a bishop who was afraid? What would they say if I did not go?""But the brigands, Monseigneur?""Hold," said the Bishop, "I must think of that. You are right. I may meet them. They, too, need to be told of the good God.""But, Monseigneur, there is a band of them! A flock of wolves!""Monsieur le maire, it may be that it is of this very flock of wolves that Jesus has constituted me the shepherd. Who knows the ways of Providence?""They will rob you, Monseigneur.""I have nothing.""They will kill you.""An old goodman of a priest, who passes along mumbling his prayers? Bah! To what purpose?""Oh, mon Dieu! what if you should meet them!""I should beg alms of them for my poor.""Do not go, Monseigneur. In the name of Heaven! You are risking your life!""Monsieur le maire," said the Bishop, "is that really all? I am not in the world to guard my own life, but to guard souls.”

“There are men who dig for gold; [Monseigneur Bienvenu] dug for compassion.”

“Bran grabbed my hand,pulled me to a chest, and swung the heavy lid open. A white cloth covered the contents. He jerked it aside. Human heads filled the chest."Oh God."He scooped a mummified head from the chest by a scalp lock and thrust it at me. "All of them are mine."This was officially the weirdest version of "come down to my place and I'll show you some etchings" I've ever been hit with.”

“The episcopal palace was a huge and beautiful house, built of stone at the beginning of the last century by M. Henri Puget, Doctor of Theology of the Faculty of Paris, Abbe of Simore, who had been Bishop of D—— in 1712. This palace was a genuine seignorial residence. Everything about it had a grand air,—the apartments of the Bishop, the drawing-rooms, the chambers, the principal courtyard, which was very large, with walks encircling it under arcades in the old Florentine fashion, and gardens planted with magnificent trees. In the dining-room, a long and superb gallery which was situated on the ground-floor and opened on the gardens, M. Henri Puget had entertained in state, on July 29, 1714, My Lords Charles Brulart de Genlis, archbishop; Prince”