A certain husband had conceived violent jealousy against him, doubtless without cause, and waited for him in a deep lane down which he was obliged to go from Béthisy in order to reach the village where he was wanted.
When the Abbé Fortier saw this man standing in the middle of the road, with his face drawn with anger and his first clenched, he quickly guessed what was going to happen; but, being a minister of the God of peace and averse to all scandal, he begged him as politely as possible to allow him to pass.
"Oh yes, let you pass, M. le vicaire," said the man in the jeering tones peculiar to our peasants; "you'll not get by so easily!"
"Why should I not pass?" asked the curate.
"Because you have a little account to settle with this poor Bastien."
"I owe you nothing," said the abbé; "allow me to pass; you know well I am being waited for and by one who has not time to wait long."
"He will just have to wait, then," said Bastien, throwing off his jacket and spitting on his hands; "he will just have to wait: if he is in too great a hurry, he must go before."
"Why must he wait?" the abbé demanded, now getting vexed.
"Because I have to give you a drubbing, M. le vicaire."
"Ah! that is it! Is that why you came here, Bastien?"