Their consultation that afternoon was of a peculiarly delicate nature.  Lisa was anxious to know what steps she might legitimately take, as a woman of honour, with respect to her brother-in-law.  Had she a right to keep a watch upon him, and to do what she could to prevent him from compromising her husband, her daughter, and herself?  And then how far might she go in circumstances of pressing danger?  She did not bluntly put these questions to the abbe, but asked them with such skilful circumlocutions that he was able to discuss the matter without entering into personalities.  He brought forward arguments on both sides of the question, but the conclusion he came to was that a person of integrity was entitled, indeed bound, to prevent evil, and was justified in using whatever means might be necessary to ensure the triumph of that which was right and proper.

“That is my opinion, dear lady,” he said in conclusion.  “The question of means is always a very grave one.  It is a snare in which souls of average virtue often become entangled.  But I know your scrupulous conscience.  Deliberate carefully over each step you think of taking, and if it contains nothing repugnant to you, go on boldly.  Pure natures have the marvelous gift of purifying all that they touch.”

Then, changing his tone of voice, he continued:  “Pray give my kind regards to Monsieur Quenu.  I’ll come in to kiss my dear little Pauline some time when I’m passing.  And now good-bye, dear lady; remember that I’m always at your service.”

Thereupon he returned to the vestry.  Lisa, on her way out, was curious to see if Claire was still praying, but the girl had gone back to her eels and carp; and in front of the Lady-chapel, which was already shrouded in darkness, there was now but a litter of chairs overturned by the ardent vehemence of the woman who had knelt there.

When the handsome Lisa again crossed the square, La Normande, who had been watching for her exit from the church, recognised her in the twilight by the rotundity of her skirts.

“Good gracious!” she exclaimed, “she’s been more than an hour in there!  When the priests set about cleansing her of her sins, the choir-boys have to form in line to pass the buckets of filth and empty them in the street!”

The next morning Lisa went straight up to Florent’s bedroom and settled herself there with perfect equanimity.  She felt certain that she would not be disturbed, and, moreover, she had made up her mind to tell a falsehood and say that she had come to see if the linen was clean, should Florent by any chance return.  Whilst in the shop, however, she had observed him busily engaged in the fish market.  Seating herself in front of the little table, she pulled out the drawer, placed it upon her knees, and began to examine its contents, taking the greatest care to restore them to their original positions.