"Very well," I said, "I shall see her to-morrow and she will explain what this means."
His hesitation continued.
"Madame Pierson has also told me—that I should inform you—in fact, I am requested to—"
"Well, what is it?" I cried, impatiently.
"Sir, you are becoming violent, I think Madame Pierson is seriously ill; she will not be able to see you this week."
Another bow, and he retired.
It was clear that his visit concealed some mystery: either Madame Pierson did not wish to see me, and I could not explain why, or Mercanson had interfered on his own responsibility.
I waited until the following day and then presented myself at her door; the servant who met me said that her mistress was indeed very ill and could not see me; she refused to accept the money I offered her, and would not answer my questions.
As I was passing through the village on my return, I saw Mercanson; he was surrounded by a number of school children, his uncle's pupils. I stopped him in the midst of his harangue and asked if I could have a word with him.
He followed me aside; but now it was my turn to hesitate, for I was at a loss how to proceed to draw his secret from him.