"It does not matter," he said, as if he returned to his original idea; "it does not matter, you are a delightful little monk; but that you visit hostelries is certain, and what hostelries too! Those where beautiful ladies are to be found, and you stop outside in a state of ecstasy before the window, where you can see their shadow. Oh! little one, little one, I shall tell Dom Modeste all about it."
The bolt hit its mark, more truly so even than Chicot had supposed; for when he began, he did not suspect that the wound had been so deep.
Jacques turned round like a serpent that had been trodden on.
"That is not true," he cried, crimson with shame and anger, "I don't look at women."
"Yes, yes," pursued Chicot; "on the contrary, there was an exceedingly pretty woman at the 'Brave Chevalier' when you left it, and you turned round to look at her again; and I know that you were waiting for her in the turret, and I know, too, that you spoke to her."
Chicot proceeded by the inductive process.
Jacques could not contain himself any longer.
"I certainty have spoken to her!" he exclaimed; "is it a sin to speak to women?"
"No, when one does not speak to them of one's own accord, and yielding to the temptation of Satan."
"Satan has nothing whatever to do with the matter; it was absolutely necessary that I should speak to that lady, since I was desired to hand her a letter."