“It is here,” cried Gorenflot, striking his forehead.
“At half-past nine.”
“I lied; it was ten.”
“Ten! I thought the abbey shut at nine.”
“Let it shut; I have a key.”
“A key of the abbey!”
“Here, in my pocket.”
“Impossible; I know the monastic rules. They would not give the key to a simple monk.”
“Here it is,” said Gorenflot, showing a piece of money.
“Oh, money! you corrupt the porter to go in when you please, wretched sinner! But what strange money!”