coming back to dry land from the sea with their hard
gotten cash, burned to spend it on women . . . When
all these things merged and were liquified, producing
a bitter-sweet and most heady potion, then the Cafe
de la Tarasque seemed a pretty fine place to those
who were leniently disposed towards themselves, and
also towards human nature in general. And if
tempers were short while knives could be long; and
if Eusebe took liberties with a virtuous wife who had
g)ne to Heaven; and if Mere Melanie gave to her
hurch rather less than she gave to her hump-backed
violinist; if all this was the very deplorable truth —
and alas, there is little room left for doubting — then, it
must be remembered that the town of Saint Loup
was, and is, in a curve of the coast of Provence, so
that those who would judge the south by the north
might profitably ask good Saint Loup himself to
develop their wisdom and understanding.