Finally,  three  years  before  his  death,  the  Abbe  Chapeloud
had  completed  the  comfort  of  his  rooms  by  decorating  the
drawing-room.  Though  simply  furnished  with  red  Utrecht
velvet,  this  had  been  too  much  for  Birotteau.  From  the
day  when  the  Canon's  friend  first  saw  the  red  silk  cur-
tains, the  mahogany  furniture,  the  Aubusson  carpet  that
graced  this  large  room,  freshly  painted,  Chapeloud's  apart-
ment became  to  him  the  object  of  a  secret  monomania.  To
live  there,  to  sleep  in  the  great  bed  with  silk  curtains  in
which  the  Canon  slept,  and  have  all  his  comforts  about
him  as  Chapeloud  had,  seemed  to  Birotteau  perfect  happi-
ness; he  looked  for  nothing  beyond.  Every  feeling  which
envy  and  ambition  arouse  in  the  souls  of  other  men,  was,  in
that  of  the  Abbe  Birotteau,  centered  in  the  deep  and  secret
longing  with  which  he  wished  for  a  home  like  that  created  for
himself  by  the  Abbe  Chapeloud.  When  his  friend  fell  ill,
it  was  no  doubt  sincere  affection  that  brought  Birotteau  to
see  him;  but  on  first  hearing  of  the  Canon's  sickness,  and
while  sitting  with  him,  there  rose  from  the  depths  of  his
soul  a  thousand  thoughts,  of  which  the  simplest  formula
was  always  this,  "If  Chapeloud  dies,  I  can  have  his  rooms."
Still,  as  Birotteau  had  a  good  heart,  strict  principles,  and  a
narrow  intellect,  he  never  went  so  far  as  to  conceive  of


THB  VICAR  OP  TOtTBfl  SH

means  for  getting  his  friend  to  leave  him  his  library  and
furniture.
The  Abbe  Chapeloud,  an  amiable  and  indulgent  egoist,
guessed  his  friend's  mania — which  it  was  not  difficult  to
do,  and  forgave  it — which  for  a  priest  would  seem  less  easy.
