Join Host Bree Carlile as she reads the fifth chapter of Les Miserables.
Come with us as we release one bite a day of one of your favorite classic novels, plays & short stories. Bree reads these classics like she reads to her daughter, one chapter a day. If you love books or audiobooks and want something to listen to as you're getting ready, driving to work, or as you're getting ready for bed, check out Bite at a Time Books!
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Take it chapter by chapter one fight at a time so many adventures and mountains we can climb take it word for word, line by line one bite at a time.
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Welcome to bite at a time books where we read you your favorite classics one bite at a time.
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My name is Bre Carlisle and I love to read and wanted to share my passion with listeners like you.
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Values today we'll be continuing les miserable by Victor Hugo.
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Chapter five Monseigneur Benavineux made his cassocks last too long.
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The private life of Monser Miriel was filled with the same thoughts as his public life.
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The voluntary poverty in which the bishop of Dee lived would have been a solemn and charming sight for anyone who could have viewed it close at hand.
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Like all old men and like the majority of thinkers, he slept little.
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This brief slumber was profound.
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In the morning he meditated for an hour.
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Then he said his mass, either at the cathedral or in his own house.
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His mass said he broke his fast on rye bread dipped in the milk of his own cows.
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Then he set to work.
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A bishop is a very busy man.
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He must every day receive the secretary of the bishopric, who is generally a canon, and nearly every day his vikars general.
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He has congregations to approve, privileges to grant a whole ecclesiastical library to examine, prayer books, diocesan catechisms, books of hours, etcetera charges to write sermons to authorize cures and mayors to reconcile, a clerical correspondence, an administrative correspondence, on one side the state, on the other the Holy See, and a thousand matters of business.
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What time was left to him after these thousand details of business and his offices and his bravery, he bestowed first on the necessities, the sick, and the afflicted.
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The time which was left to him from the afflicted, the sick and the necessitous.
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He devoted to work.
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Sometimes he dug in his garden again he read or wrote.
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He had but one word for both these kinds of toil.
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He called him gardening.
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The mind is a garden, said he.
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Towards midday, when the weather was fine, he went forth and took a stroll in the country or in town, often entering lowly dwellings.
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He was seen walking alone, buried in his own thoughts, his eyes cast down, supporting himself on his long cane, clad in his wadded purple garment of silk, which was very warm, wearing purple stockings inside his coarse shoes, and surmounted by a flat hat, which allowed three golden tassels of large bullion to droop from its three points.
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It was a perfect festival.
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Wherever he appeared, one would have said that his presence had something warming and luminous about it.
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The children and the old people came out to the doorsteps.
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For the bishop, as for the son, he bestowed his blessing, and they blessed him.
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They pointed out his house to anyone who was in need of anything.
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Here and there he halted, accosted the little boys and girls, and smiled upon the mothers.
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He visited the poor so long as he had any money, when he no longer had any.
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He visited the rich as he made his cassocks last a long while, and did not wish to have it noticed.
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He never went out in the town without his wadded purple cloak.
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This inconvenienced him somewhat.
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In summer, on his return, he dined.
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The dinner resembled his breakfast.
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30 in the evening he slept with his sister, Madame Magloire, standing behind them and serving them at table.
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Nothing could be more frugal than this repast.
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If, however, the bishop had one of his cures to supper, Madame Magloire took advantage of the opportunity to serve monseigneur with some excellent fish from the lake or with some fine game from the mountains.
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Every cure furnished the pretext for a good meal.
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The bishop did not interfere with that exception.
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His ordinary diet consisted only of vegetables boiled in water and oil soup.
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As it was said in the town, when the bishop does not indulge in the cheer of a cure, he indulges in the cheer of a trappist.
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After supper, he conversed for half an hour with Mademoiselle Baptistine and Madame Magloire.
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Then he retired to his own room and set to writing, sometimes on loose sheets and again on the margin of some folio.
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He was a man of letters and rather learned.
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He left behind him five or six very curious manuscripts, among others, a dissertation on this verse in Genesis.
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In the beginning, the spirit of God floated above the waters.
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With this verse he compared three texts, the arabic verse which says, the winds of God blew Flavius Josephus, who said, a wind from above was precipitated upon the earth and finally, a chaldean paraphrase of Onkelos, which renders it, a wind coming from God blew upon the face of the waters.
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In another dissertation he examines the theological works of Hugo, bishop of Ptolemys, great grand uncle to the writer of this book, and establishes the fact that to this bishop must be attributed the divers little works published during the last century under the pseudonym of barley court.
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Sometimes, in the midst of his reading, no matter what the book might be, which he had in his hand, he would suddenly fall into a profound meditation once he only emerged, write a few lines on the pages of the volume itself.
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These lines have often no connection whatever with the book which contains them.
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We now have under our eyes a note written by him on the margin of a quarto entitled Correspondence of Lord Germain with generals Clinton, Cornwallis, and the admirals on the american station Versailles Poincott, bookseller and Paris Pissott, bookseller Quedas Augustins heres the oh, you who are ecclesiastes calls you the all powerful.
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The Maccabees call you the creator.
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The epistle to the Ephesians calls you liberty.
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Baruch calls you immensity.
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The psalms call you wisdom and truth.
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John calls you light.
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The books of kings call you Lord.
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Exodus calls you providence.
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Leviticus, sanctity, Eschris, justice.
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The creation calls you God.
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Man calls you father, but Solomon calls you compassion.
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And that is the most beautiful of all your names.
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00 in the evening, the two women retired and betook themselves to their chambers on the first floor, leaving him alone until morning on the ground floor.
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It is necessary that we should in this place give an exact idea of the dwelling of the bishop of D.
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Thank you for joining bite at a time books today while we read a.
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Bite of one of your favorite classics.
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Again, my name is Brie Carlisle, and I hope you come back tomorrow for the next bite of Le Miserable.
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Don't forget to sign up for our newsletter@biteoutimebooks.com comma.
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Take it chapter by chapter, one at a time so many adventures and mountains we can climb take your word go word, line by line, one bite at a time.
