"Monsieur, sit down and warm yourself; we are going to take supper presently, and your bed will be made ready while you sup."
At last the man quite understood; his face, the expression of which till then had been gloomy, and hard, now expressed stupefaction, doubt and joy, and became absolutely wonderful. He began to stutter like a madman.
"True? What? You will keep me? you won't drive me away—a convict? You call me monsieur and don't say, 'Get out, dog!' as everybody else does. I shall have a supper! a bed like other people, with mattress and sheets—a bed! It is nineteen years that I have not slept on a bed. You are good people! Besides, I have money; I will pay well. I beg your pardon, M. Innkeeper, what is your name? I will pay all you say. You are a fine man. You are an innkeeper, is it not so?"
"I am a priest who lives here," said the bishop.
"A priest," said the man. "Oh, noble priest! Then you do not ask any money?"
"No," said the bishop, "keep your money. How much have you?"
"One hundred and nine francs and fifteen sous," said the man.
"One hundred and nine francs and fifteen sous. And how long did it take you to earn that?"
"Nineteen years."