—­Good news!  Veronica.

—­I congratulate you, sir, she said, perplexed and disturbed.  Are you nominated to a better cure?  Does Monseigneur give notice of his visit?

—­Better than that, Veronica.  My excellent and worthy uncle, the Abbe Ridoux, gives notice of his.

—­Monsieur le Cure of Saint Nicholas?

—­Himself.  Do you know him?

—­Certainly.  He came one day to see Monsieur Fortin (may God keep his soul) regarding a collection for his church.  Ah, he has a fine church, it appears, and a famous saint is buried there.  My poor defunct master was in the habit of saying that there was not a more agreeable man anywhere in the world, and I easily credited it, for he was always in a good temper.  It’s he then who has written to you.  Well, if he comes here, it will make a little diversion, for we don’t often laugh.

—­That is wrong, Veronica.  A gentle gaiety ought to prevail in the priest’s house.  Gaiety is the mark of a pure heart and a quiet conscience.  Where there is hatred and division there is more room for the spirit of darkness.  Our Saviour has said:  “Every house divided against itself shall perish.”

—­He has said so, yes, Monsieur le Cure.

—­We must not perish, Veronica.

—­I have no wish to do so; therefore I do not cause the war.

—­Listen, Veronica.  It would be lamentable and scandalous that my uncle might possibly be troubled on his arrival here by our little domestic differences, and particularly that he might suspect the nature of them.  We are both of us a little in the wrong; by our each ascribing it to oneself, it will be easy for us to come to an understanding; will it not, Veronica?

—­Oh, Monsieur le Cure, we can come to an understanding directly, if you wish it.  God says that we must forgive, and I have no malice.

—­Then it is agreed, we will talk of our little mutual complaints after supper.

—­I ask for nothing better; I am quite at your service.

—­And we will celebrate the good news.

—­I will take my share in the celebration.  Ah, Monsieur le Cure, you do not know me yet; I hope that you will know me better, and you will see that I am not an ill-natured girl.  My heart is as young as another’s, and when we must laugh, provided that it is decent and without offence, I know how to laugh, and do not give up my share.

—­Good, said Marcel to himself, let me flatter this woman.  That is the only way of preventing any rumour.  I must leave Althausen, I will pass her on to my successor, but I do not want to have an enemy behind me.  If you have my secret, you old hypocrite, I will have yours, and I will know what there is at the bottom of your bag of iniquity.

XLIX.

CONFIDENCES.

  “To thee I wish to confide this secret,
  Speak of it to no-one, we must be discreet
  They love too much to laugh in this unbelieving age.”