"Enter！" cried the archdeacon， from the interior of his cell； "I was expecting you. I left the door unlocked expressly； enter Master Jacques！"The scholar entered boldly. The archdeacon， who was very much embarrassed by such a visit in such a place， trembled in his arm-chair. "What！ 'tis you， Jehan？""'Tis a J， all the same，" said the scholar， with his ruddy， merry， and audacious face.
Dom Claude's visage had resumed its severe expression.
"What are you come for？"
"Brother，" replied the scholar， ****** an effort to assume a decent， pitiful， and modest mien， and twirling his cap in his hands with an innocent air； "I am come to ask of you--""What？"
"A little lecture on morality， of which I stand greatly in need，" Jehan did not dare to add aloud，--"and a little money of which I am in still greater need." This last member of his phrase remained unuttered.
"Monsieur，" said the archdeacon， in a cold tone， "I am greatly displeased with you.""Alas！" sighed the scholar.
Dom Claude made his arm-chair describe a quarter circle， and gazed intently at Jehan.
"I am very glad to see you."
This was a formidable exordium. Jehan braced himself for a rough encounter.
"Jehan， complaints are brought me about you every day.
What affray was that in which you bruised with a cudgel a little vicomte， Albert de Ramonchamp？""Oh！" said Jehan， "a vast thing that！ A malicious page amused himself by splashing the scholars， by ****** his horse gallop through the mire！""Who，" pursued the archdeacon， "is that Mahiet Fargel， whose gown you have torn？ ~Tunicam dechiraverunt~， saith the complaint.""Ah bah！ a wretched cap of a Montaigu！ Isn't that it？""The complaint says ~tunicam~ and not ~cappettam~. Do you know Latin？"Jehan did not reply.
"Yes，" pursued the priest shaking his head， "that is the state of learning and letters at the present day. The Latin tongue is hardly understood， Syriac is unknown， Greek so odious that 'tis accounted no ignorance in the most learned to skip a Greek word without reading it， and to say， '~Groecum est non legitur~.'"The scholar raised his eyes boldly. "Monsieur my brother， doth it please you that I shall explain in good French vernacular that Greek word which is written yonder on the wall？""What word？"
"'~ANArKH~."
A slight flush spread over the cheeks of the priest with their high bones， like the puff of smoke which announces on the outside the secret commotions of a volcano. The student hardly noticed it.
"Well， Jehan，" stammered the elder brother with an effort， "What is the meaning of yonder word？""FATE."
Dom Claude turned pale again， and the scholar pursued carelessly.
"And that word below it， graved by the same hand， '~Ayáyvela~， signifies 'impurity.' You see that people do know their Greek."And the archdeacon remained silent. This Greek lesson had rendered him thoughtful.
Master Jehan， who possessed all the artful ways of a spoiled child， judged that the moment was a favorable one in which to risk his request. Accordingly， he assumed an extremely soft tone and began，--"My good brother， do you hate me to such a degree as to look savagely upon me because of a few mischievous cuffs and blows distributed in a fair war to a pack of lads and brats， ~quibusdam marmosetis~？ You see， good Brother Claude， that people know their Latin."But all this caressing hypocrisy did not have its usual effect on the severe elder brother. Cerberus did not bite at the honey cake. The archdeacon's brow did not lose a single wrinkle.
"What are you driving at？" he said dryly.
"Well， in point of fact， this！" replied Jehan bravely， "I stand in need of money."At this audacious declaration， the archdeacon's visage assumed a thoroughly pedagogical and paternal expression.
"You know， Monsieur Jehan， that our fief of Tirecbappe， putting the direct taxes and the rents of the nine and twenty houses in a block， yields only nine and thirty livres， eleven sous， six deniers， Parisian. It is one half more than in the time of the brothers Paclet， but it is not much.""I need money，" said Jehan stoically.
"You know that the official has decided that our twenty-one houses should he moved full into the fief of the Bishopric， and that we could redeem this homage only by paying the reverend bishop two marks of silver gilt of the price of six livres parisis. Now， these two marks I have not yet been able to get together. You know it.""I know that I stand in need of money，" repeated Jehan for the third time.
"And what are you going to do with it？"
This question caused a flash of hope to gleam before Jehan's eyes. He resumed his dainty， caressing air.
"Stay， dear Brother Claude， I should not come to you， with any evil motive. There is no intention of cutting a dash in the taverns with your unzains， and of strutting about the streets of Paris in a caparison of gold brocade， with a lackey， ~cum meo laquasio~. No， brother， 'tis for a good work.""What good work？" demanded Claude， somewhat surprised.
"Two of my friends wish to purchase an outfit for the infant of a poor Haudriette widow. It is a charity. It will cost three forms， and I should like to contribute to it.""What are names of your two friends？"