Abbe Mouret slowly raised his head.  By a supreme effort he had overcome his agony, and though his face was still very pale, he exclaimed in a firm voice, ‘One should never sin; never! never!’

‘Ah! sir,’ cried the old servant, ’you are too proud and reserved.  It is not a nice thing, that pride of yours.—­If I were in your place, I would not harden myself like that.  I would talk of what was troubling me, and not try to rend my heart in pieces.  You should reconcile yourself to the separation gradually.  The worry wears off little by little.  But, instead of that, you won’t even allow people’s names to be uttered.  You forbid them to be mentioned.  It is as though they were dead.  Since you came back, I have not dared to tell you the least bit of news.  Well, well, I am going to speak now, and I shall tell you all I know; because I see quite well that it is all this silence that is preying upon your heart.’

He looked at her sternly, and lifted his finger to silence her.

‘Yes, yes,’ she went on, ’I get news from over yonder, very often indeed, and I am going to tell it to you.  To begin with, there is some one there who is no happier than you are.’

‘Silence!  Silence!’ said Abbe Mouret, summoning all his strength to rise and move away.

But La Teuse also rose and barred his way with her bulky figure.  She was angry, and cried out: 

’There, you see, you want to be off already!  But you are going to listen to me.  You know quite well that I am not over fond of the people yonder, don’t you?  If I talk to you about them, it is for your own good.  Some people say that I am jealous.  Well, one day I mean to take you over there.  You would be with me, and you wouldn’t be afraid of any harm happening.  Will you go?’

He motioned her away from him with his hands, and his face was calm again as he said: 

’I desire nothing.  I wish to know nothing.  There is high mass to-morrow.  You must see that the altar is made ready.’

Then, as he walked away, he added, smiling: 

’Don’t be uneasy, my good Teuse.  I am stronger than you imagine.  I shall be able to cure myself without any one’s assistance.’

With these words he went off, bearing himself sturdily, with his head erect, for he had vanquished his feelings.  His cassock rustled very gently against the borders of thyme.  La Teuse, who for a moment had remained rooted to the spot where she was standing, sulkily picked up her basin and wooden spoon.  Then, shrugging her big shoulders again and again, she mumbled between her teeth: 

’That’s all bravado of his.  He imagines that he is differently made from other men, just because he is a priest.  Well, as a matter of fact, he is very firm and determined.  I have known some who wouldn’t have had to be wheedled so long.  And he is quite capable of crushing his heart, just as one might crush a flea.  It must be the Almighty who gives him his strength.’