Pierre, however, his eyes fixed upon the big clock, watched the minutes
hasten by on the dial, and began to feel surprised at not seeing Marie
arrive with her father. It was to be hoped that M. de Guersaint would not
lose himself on the road!
The young priest was still watching, when, to his surprise, he caught
sight of M. Vigneron, in a state of perfect exasperation, pushing his
wife and little Gustave furiously before him.
"Oh, Monsieur l'Abbe," he exclaimed, "tell me where our carriage is! Help
me to put our luggage and this child in it. I am at my wit's end! They
have made me altogether lose my temper."
Then, on reaching the second-class compartment, he caught hold of
Pierre's hands, just as the young man was about to place little Gustave
inside, and quite an outburst followed. "Could you believe it? They
insist on my starting. They tell me that my return-ticket will not be
available if I wait here till to-morrow. It was of no use my telling them
about the accident. As it is, it's by no means pleasant to have to stay
with that corpse, watch over it, see it put in a coffin, and remove it
to-morrow within the regulation time. But they pretend that it doesn't
concern them, that they already make large enough reductions on the
pilgrimage tickets, and that they can't enter into any questions of
people dying."
Madame Vigneron stood all of a tremble listening to him, whilst Gustave,
forgotten, staggering on his crutch with fatigue, raised his poor,
inquisitive, suffering face.
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