—­Yes.  I understand, you ought indeed to be so.  Tired of odious spying; tired of your unwholesome curiosity; tired of your useless narrow-mindedness.  Do not drive me too far for your own sake, I warn you.  Twice already you have made me beside myself, beware, you miserable woman, beware of doing it a third time.

—­Be quiet, Monsieur le Cure, said Veronica softly, be quiet.

—­Oh, you are driving me mad, cried Marcel, throwing himself into an arm-chair, and covering his face with his hands.

The servant came near him: 

—­It is you who are making me ill with your fits of anger, she said with solicitude:  shall I make you a little tea?

—­I don’t want anything.

—­Come, Monsieur Marcel, be yourself.  I am not what you think, no, I am not.

—­It is my wish that you leave me, Veronica.

—­Everything I do is for your interest, Monsieur le Cure, you will understand it one day.

—­Leave me, I say.

The servant withdrew.

—­It cannot last thus, he thought.  What a scandalous scene!  And what a horrible fatality thrusts me into this ridiculous and miserable situation!  Ah, the apostle is right:  “As soon as we leave the straight path, we fall into the abyss.”  And I am in the abyss, for I am the laughing-stock of this servant.  What will become of me with this creature?  How can I get rid of her?  Can I turn her out?  She would proclaim everywhere what she has discovered....  Ah, if it were only a question of myself alone!  What a dilemma I am involved in!  But that letter, that letter!  Suzanne!... dear Suzanne ... no doubt it is she who has written to me, my heart tells me so loudly.

He waited with feverish impatience for the postman’s return.

Expecting news from Suzanne, and fearing with good reason his servant’s inquisitiveness, he had indeed asked him for the future to deliver his letters to himself only.

He sought for various pretexts to send Veronica away, but the woman too discovered excellent reasons for not going out.

She was present therefore, in spite of her master, at the delivery of the mysterious letter.

Marcel’s countenance at first displayed deep disappointment, but as he read on, it was lighted up by a ray of joy.

XLVII.

GOOD NEWS.

  “Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia
  O filii et filiae... 
  Et Maria Magdalena
  Et Jacobi, et Salome! 
  Alleluia.”

  (Easter-Mass Hymn).

“Rejoice, my son, and sing with me Hosannah!  Hosannah! The ways of the Lord are infinite.

“Your personal enemy, Saint Anastasius Gobin, Grand-Vicar, Arch-Priest, Notary Apostolic and, like the ancient slave, as vile as anyone, non tum vilis quam nullus, has just left Nancy secretly, and in disgrace, like a guilty wretch as he is.