At　first；　the　only　furniture　the　poor　canon　could　put　in　was　a　bed；　a
  table；　a　few　chairs；　and　the　books　he　possessed。　The　apartment　was
  like　a　beautiful　woman　in　rags。　But　two　or　three　years　later；　an　old
  lady　having　left　the　Abbe　Chapeloud　two　thousand　francs；　he　spent　that
  sum　on　the　purchase　of　an　oak　bookcase；　the　relic　of　a　chateau　pulled
  down　by　the　Bande　Noire；　the　carving　of　which　deserved　the　admiration
  of　all　artists。　The　abbe　made　the　purchase　less　because　it　was　very
  cheap　than　because　the　dimensions　of　the　bookcase　exactly　fitted　the
  space　it　was　to　fill　in　his　gallery。　His　savings　enabled　him　to
  renovate　the　whole　gallery；　which　up　to　this　time　had　been　neglected
  and　shabby。　The　floor　was　carefully　waxed；　the　ceiling　whitened；　the
  wood…work　painted　to　resemble　the　grain　and　knots　of　oak。　A　long　table
  in　ebony　and　two　cabinets　by　Boulle　completed　the　decoration；　and　gave
  to　this　gallery　a　certain　air　that　was　full　of　character。　In　the
  course　of　two　years　the　liberality　of　devout　persons；　and　legacies；
  though　small　ones；　from　pious　penitents；　filled　the　shelves　of　the
  bookcase；　till　then　half　empty。　Moreover；　Chapeloud's　uncle；　an　old
  Oratorian；　had　left　him　his　collection　in　folio　of　the　Fathers　of　the
  Church；　and　several　other　important　works　that　were　precious　to　a
  priest。
  Birotteau；　more　and　more　surprised　by　the　successive　improvements　of
  the　gallery；　once　so　bare；　came　by　degrees　to　a　condition　of
  involuntary　envy。　He　wished　he　could　possess　that　apartment；　so
  thoroughly　in　keeping　with　the　gravity　of　ecclestiastical　life。　The
  passion　increased　from　day　to　day。　Working；　sometimes　for　days
  together；　in　this　retreat；　the　vicar　could　appreciate　the　silence　and
  the　peace　that　reigned　there。　During　the　following　year　the　Abbe
  Chapeloud　turned　a　small　room　into　an　oratory；　which　his　pious　friends
  took　pleasure　in　beautifying。　Still　later；　another　lady　gave　the　canon
  a　set　of　furniture　for　his　bedroom；　the　covering　of　which　she　had
  embroidered　under　the　eyes　of　the　worthy　man　without　his　ever
  suspecting　its　destination。　The　bedroom　then　had　the　same　effect　upon
  the　vicar　that　the　gallery　had　long　had；　it　dazzled　him。　Lastly；　about
  three　years　before　the　Abbe　Chapeloud's　death；　he　completed　the
  comfort　of　his　apartment　by　decorating　the　salon。　Though　the　furniture
  was　plainly　covered　in　red　Utrecht　velvet；　it　fascinated　Birotteau。
  From　the　day　when　the　canon's　friend　first　laid　eyes　on　the　red　damask
  curtains；　the　mahogany　furniture；　the　Aubusson　carpet　which　adorned
  the　vast　room；　then　lately　painted；　his　envy　of　Chapeloud's　apartment
  became　a　monomania　hidden　within　his　breast。　To　live　there；　to　sleep
  in　that　bed　with　the　silk　curtains　where　the　canon　slept；　to　have　all
  Chapeloud's　comforts　about　him；　would　be；　Birotteau　felt；　complete
  happiness；　he　saw　nothing　beyond　it。　All　the　envy；　all　the　ambition
  which　the　things　of　this　world　give　birth　to　in　the　hearts　of　other
  men　concentrated　themelves　for　Birotteau　in　the　deep　and　secret
  longing　he　felt　for　an　apartment　like　that　which　the　Abbe　Chapeloud
  had　created　for　himself。　When　his　friend　fell　ill　he　went　to　him　out
  of　true　affection；　but　all　the　same；　when　he　first　heard　of　his
  illness；　and　when　he　sat　by　his　bed　to　keep　him　company；　there　arose
  in　the　depths　of　his　consciousness；　in　spite　of　himself；　a　crowd　of
  thoughts　the　simple　formula　of　which　was　always；　〃If　Chapeloud　dies　I
  can　have　this　apartment。〃　And　yetBirotteau　having　an　excellent
  heart；　contracted　ideas；　and　a　limited　mindhe　did　not　go　so　far　as
  to　think　of　means　by　which　to　make　his　friend　bequeath　to　him　the
  library　and　the　furniture。
  The　Abbe　Chapeloud；　an　amiable；　indulgent　egoist；　fathomed　his
  friend's　desiresnot　a　difficult　thing　to　doand　forgave　them；　which
  may　seem　less　easy　to　a　priest；　but　it　must　be　remembered　that　the
  vicar；　whose　friendship　was　faithful；　did　not　fail　to　take　a　daily
  walk　with　his　friend　along　their　usual　path　in　the　Mail　de　Tours；
  never　once　depriving　him　of　an　instant　of　the　time　devoted　for　over
  twenty　years　to　that　exercise。　Birotteau；　who　regarded　his　secret
  wishes　as　crimes；　would　have　been　capable；　out　of　contrition；　of　the
  utmost　devotion　to　his　friend。　The　latter　paid　his　debt　of　gratitude
  for　a　friendship　so　ingenuously　sincere　by　saying；　a　few　days　before
  his　death；　as　the　vicar　sat　by　him　reading　the　〃Quotidienne〃　aloud：
  〃This　time　you　will　certainly　get　the　apartment。　I　feel　it　is　all　over
  with　me　now。〃
  Accordingly；　it　was　found　that　the　Abbe　Chapeloud　had　left　his　library
  and　all　his　furniture　to　his　friend　Birotteau。　The　possession　of　these
  things；　so　keenly　desired；　and　the　prospect　of　being　taken　to　board　by
  Mademoiselle　Gamard；　certainly　did　allay　the　grief　which　Birotteau
  felt　at　the　death　of　his　friend　the　canon。　He　might　not　have　been
  willing　to　resuscitate　him；　but　he　mourned　him。　For　several　days　he
  was　like　Gargantus；　who；　when　his　wife　died　in　giving　birth　to
  Pantagruel；　did　not　know　whether　to　rejoice　at　the　birth　of　a　son　or
  grieve　at　having　buried　his　good　Babette；　and　therefore　cheated
  himself　by　rejoicing　at　the　death　of　his　wife；　and　deploring　the
  advent　of　Pantagruel。
  The　Abbe　Birotteau　spent　the　first　days　of　his　mourning　in　verifying
  the　books　in　HIS　library；　in　making　use　of　HIS　furniture；　in　examining
  the　whole　of　his　inheritance；　saying　in　a　tone　which；　unfortunately；
  was　not　noted　at　the　time；　〃Poor　Chapeloud！〃　His　joy　and　his　grief　so
  completely　absorbed　him　that　he　felt　no　pain　when　he　found　that　the
  office　of　canon；　in　which　the　late　Chapeloud　had　hoped　his　friend
  Birotteau　might　succeed　him；　was　given　to　another。　Mademoiselle　Gamard
  having　cheerfully　agreed　to　take　the　vicar　to　board；　the　latter　was
  thenceforth　a　participator　in　all　those　felicities　of　material　comfort
  of　which　the　deceased　canon　had　been　wont　to　boast。
  Incalculable　they　were！　According　to　the　Abbe　Chapeloud　none　of　the
  priests　who　inhabited　the　city　of　Tours；　not　even　the　archbishop；　had
  ever　been　the　object　of　such　minute　and　delicate　attentions　as　those
  bestowed　by　Mademoiselle　Gamard　on　her　two　lodgers。　The　first　words
  the　canon　said　to　his　friend　when　they　met　for　their　walk　on　the　Mail
  referred　usually　to　the　succulent　dinner　he　had　just　eaten；　and　it　was
  a　very　rare　thing　if　during　the　walks　of　each　week　he　did　not　say　at
  least　fourteen　times；　〃That　excellent　spinster　certainly　has　a
  vocation　for　serving　ecclesiastics。〃
  〃Just　think；〃　the　canon　would　say　to　Birotteau；　〃that　for　twelve
  consecutive　years　nothing　has　ever　been　amiss；linen　in　perfect
  order；　bands；　albs；　surplices；　I　find　everything　in　its　place；　always
  in　sufficient　quantity；　and　smelling　of　orris…root。　My　furniture　is
  rubbed　and　kept　so　bright　that　I　don't　know　when　I　have　seen　any　dust
  did　you　ever　see　a　speck　of　it　in　my　rooms？　Then　the　firewood　is　so
  well　selected。　The　least　little　things　are　excellent。　In　fact；
  Mademoiselle　Gamard　keeps　an　incessant　watch　over　my　wants。　I　can't
  remember　having　rung　twice　for　anythingno　matter　whatin　ten　years。
  That's　what　I　call　living！　I　never　have　to　look　for　a　single　thing；
  not　even　my　slippers。　Always　a　good　fire；　always　a　good　dinner。　Once
  the　bellows　annoyed　me；　the　nozzle　was　choked　up；　but　I　only　mentioned
  it　once；　and　the　next　day　Mademoiselle　gave　me　a　very　pretty　pair；
  also　those　nice　tongs　you　see　me　mend　the　fire　with。〃
  For　all　answer　Birotteau　would　say；　〃Smelling　of　orris…root！〃　That
  〃smelling　of　orris…root〃　always　affected　him。　The　canon's　remarks
  revealed　ideal　joys　to　the　poor　vicar；　whose　bands　and　albs　were　the
  plague　of　his　life；　for　he　was　totally　devoid　of　method　and　often
  forgot　to　order　his　dinner。　Therefore；　if　he　saw　Mademoiselle　Gamard
  at　Saint…Gatien　while　saying　mass　or　taking　round　the　plate；　he　never
  failed　to　give　her　a　kindly　and　benevolent　look；such　a　look　as　Saint
  Teresa　might　have　cast　to　heaven。
  Though　the　comforts　which　all　creatures　desire；　and　for　which　he　had
  so　often　longed；　thus　fell　to　his　share；　the　Abbe　Birotteau；　like　the
  rest　of　the　world；　found　it　difficult；　even　for　a　priest；　to　live
  without　something　to　hanker　for。　Consequently；　for　the　last　eighteen
  months　he　had　replaced　his　two　satisfied　passions　by　an　ardent　longing
  for　a　canonry。　The　title　of　Canon　had　become　to　him　very　much　what　a
  peerage　is　to　a　plebeian　minister。　The　prospect　of　an　appointment；
  hopes　of　which　had　just　been　held　out　to　him　at　Madame　de　Listomere's；
  so　completely　turned　his　head　that　he　did　not　observe　until　he　reached
  his　own　door　that　he　had　left　his　umbrella　behind　him。　Perhaps；　even
  then；　if　the　rain　were　not　falling　in　torrents　he　might　not　have
  missed　it；　so　absorbed　was　he　in　the　pleasure　of　going　over　and　over
  in　his　mind　what　had　been　said　to　him　on　the　subject　of　his　promotion
  by　the　company　at　Madame　de　Listomere's；an　old　lady　with　whom　he
  spent　every　Wednesday　evening。
  The　vicar　rang　loudly；　as　if