A valet got down from the seat behind and lowered the step.
"It is a quarter past eleven," said the priest, "and Marianne expects me for dinner at twelve."
"In the first place—where do you live? But sit down, though!"
He lightly drew the priest by his gown, and the priest sat down.
"Where do I live?" asked the latter.
"Yes."
"At Boulogne.... I am curé of Boulogne, friend."
"Ah! ah! I offer you my congratulations; you always had the vocation."
"So, you see, I entered Orders."
"Are you satisfied?"