human
Saints of God! the high voice of La Salle sounded.
gpt
If it be true, as they say, that the devil lends favour to gamblers, then are you lost, brother, body and soul. Michel, an you sing that lewd song again---- A plague strike you drunkards! Have the streets of Marseilles no new song?
human
There is nothing new, my father, bawled a hoarse voice.
gpt
His sacred Eminence holds all France as a man might contain in his hand an egg. Only strong men, good fighters, be they priests or laymen, find favour in the Cardinal's eyes, and 'tis said, though with what truth I know not, that he sways his Holiness as the wind may play with a cornstalk. Not a brick has been added to Marseilles this year past. The very mass-bread is mouldy, and the women are hags----
human
Peace, brute! La Salle shouted.
gpt
Laroche, smite me yon babbler across his mouth.