This thought terrified him so much that he got up and made instantly for the door, through which he quickly disappeared. As he approached the convent, his fears grew strong, and seeing a concourse of monks standing talking on the threshold, he felt inclined to fly. But some of them approached to meet him; he knew flight was hopeless, and resigned himself. The monks seemed at first to hesitate to speak to him, but at last one said:
“Poor dear brother!”
Gorenflot sighed, and raised his eyes to Heaven.
“You know the prior waits for you?”
“Ah! mon Dieu!”
“Oh! yes; he ordered that you should be brought to him as soon as you came in.”
“I feared it,” said Gorenflot. And more dead than alive, he entered the convent, whose doors closed on him. They led him to the prior. Gorenflot did not dare to raise his eyes, finding himself alone with his justly irritated superior.
“Ah! it is you at last,” said the abbé.
“Reverend sir——”
“What anxiety you have given me.”