human
Phélypeaux, muttered St. Georges to himself.
gpt
Phélypeaux! I know the name; what do I know of him? Let me think. Ha! I have it. A soldier like myself. Also another, a brother, a priest, Bishop of Lodève--which is my host, I wonder? For choice the soldier, if all is true of the bishop that is told. _Mon enfant_, turning to the urchin,
human
Divine, monsieur. But _en retraite_. Oh! _avez ça_--they say droll things. Only I am young--I do not know. Whereon he grinned. Then he exclaimed: