He continued after a moment’s silence, as if he did not wish to interrupt their mute observation—­

“Will you oblige me by a neighbourly kindness?”

“What is it, Derues?” asked Madame Legrand.  A violent cough, which appeared to rend his chest, prevented him from answering immediately.  When it ceased, he looked at the abbe, and said, with a melancholy smile—­

“What I ought to ask in my present state of health is your blessing, my father, and your intercession for the pardon of my sins.  But everyone clings to the life which God has given him.  We do not easily abandon hope; moreover, I have always considered it wrong to neglect such means of preserving our lives as are in our power, since life is for us only a time of trial, and the longer and harder the trial the greater our recompense in a better world.  Whatever befalls us, our answer should be that of the Virgin Mary to the angel who announced the mystery of the Incarnation:  ’Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to Thy word.’”

“You are right,” said the abbe, with a severe and inquisitorial look, under which Derues remained quite untroubled; “it is an attribute of God to reward and to punish, and the Almighty is not deceived by him who deceives men.  The Psalmist has said, ’Righteous art Thou, O Lord, and upright are Thy judgments.’”

“He has said also, ’The judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether,’” Derues promptly replied.  This exchange of quotations from Scripture might have lasted for hours without his being at a loss, had the abbe thought fit to continue in this strain; but such a style of conversation, garnished with grave and solemn words, seemed almost sacrilegious in the mouth of a man of such ridiculous appearance—­a profanation at once sad and grotesque.  Derues seemed to comprehend the impression it produced, and tuning again to Madame Legrand, he said—­

“We have got a long way from what I came to ask you, my kind friend.  I was so ill that I went early to bed, but I cannot sleep, and I have no fire.  Would you have the kindness to have this egg mulled for me?”

“Cannot your servant do that for you?” asked Madame Legrand.

“I gave her leave to go out this evening, and though it is late she has not yet returned.  If I had a fire, I would not give you so much trouble, but I do not care to light one at this hour.  You know I am always afraid of accidents, and they so easily happen!”

“Very well, then,” replied Madame Legrand; “go back to your room, and my servant will bring it to you.”

“Thank you,” said Derues, bowing,—­“many thanks.”

As he turned to depart, Madame Legrand spoke again.

“This day week, Derues, you have to pay me half the twelve hundred livres due for the purchase of my business.”

“So soon as that?”

“Certainly, and I want the money.  Have you forgotten the date, then?”