For the priest, however, all these
were vague, disturbing things, condemnable features of disorderly life,
and he had invariably pretended to be ignorant of them.
"So you wish this note to be taken to Montmartre at once?" he said to his
brother.
"Yes, at once. It is scarcely more than seven o'clock now, and it will be
there by eight. And you will choose a reliable man, won't you?"
"The best course will be for Sophie to take a cab. We need have no fear
with her. She won't chatter. Wait a moment, and I will settle
everything."
Sophie, on being summoned, at once understood what was wanted of her, and
promised to say, in reply to any questions, that M. Guillaume had come to
spend the night at his brother's, for reasons which she did not know. And
without indulging in any reflections herself, she left the house, saying
simply: "Monsieur l'Abbe's dinner is ready; he will only have to take the
broth and the stew off the stove."
However, when Pierre this time returned to the bedside to sit down there,
he found that Guillaume had fallen back with his head resting on both
pillows. And he looked very weary and pale, and showed signs of fever.
The lamp, standing on a corner of a side table, cast a soft light around,
and so deep was the quietude that the big clock in the adjoining
dining-room could be heard ticking.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25