She had mounted the altar steps, and she took up two withered bunches of flowers, which had been left there, forgotten.

‘See! it is just as it is in the graveyards,’ she said, throwing the flowers at Abbe Mouret’s feet.

He picked them up, without replying.  It was quite dark now, and Brother Archangias stumbled about amongst the chairs and nearly fell.  He growled and muttered some angry words, in which the names of Jesus and Mary recurred.  When La Teuse, who had gone for a lamp, returned into the church, she asked the priest: 

‘So I can put the brushes and pots away in the attic, then?’

‘Yes,’ he answered.  ’I have finished.  We will see about the rest later on.’

She walked away in front of them, carrying all the things with her, and keeping silence, lest she should say too much.  And as Abbe Mouret had kept the withered bunches of flowers in his hand, Brother Archangias said to him, as they passed the farmyard:  ‘Throw those things away.’

The Abbe took a few steps more, with downcast head; and then over the palings he flung the flowers upon a manure-heap.

V

The Brother, who had already had his own meal, seated himself astride a chair, while the priest dined.  Since Serge’s return to Les Artaud, the Brother had thus spent most of his evenings at the parsonage; but never before had he imposed his presence upon the other in so rough a fashion.  He stamped on the tiled floor with his heavy boots, his voice thundered and he smote the furniture, whilst he related how he had whipped some of his pupils that morning, or expounded his moral principles in terms as stern, as uncompromising as bludgeon-blows.  Then feeling bored, he suggested that he and La Teuse should have a game at cards.  They had endless bouts of ‘Beggar-my-neighbour’ together, that being the only game which La Teuse had ever been able to learn.  Abbe Mouret would smilingly glance at the first few cards flung on the table and would then gradually sink into reverie, remaining for hours forgetful of his self-restraint, oblivious of his surroundings, beneath the suspicious glances of Brother Archangias.

That evening La Teuse felt so cross that she had talked of going to bed as soon as the cloth was removed.  The Brother, however, wanted his game of cards.  So he caught hold of her shoulders and sat her down, so roughly that the chair creaked beneath her.  And forthwith he began to shuffle the cards.  Desiree, who hated him, had gone off carrying her dessert, which she generally took upstairs with her every evening to eat in bed.

‘I want the red cards,’ said La Teuse.

Then the struggle began.  The old woman at first won some of the Brother’s best cards.  But before long two aces fell together on the table.

‘Here’s a battle!’ she cried, wild with excitement.

She threw down a nine, which rather alarmed her, but as the Brother, in his turn, only put down a seven, she picked up the cards with a triumphant air.  At the end of half an hour, however, she had only gained two aces, so that the chances remained fairly equal.  And a quarter of an hour later she lost an ace.  The knaves and kings and queens were perpetually coming and going as the battle furiously progressed.