“Certainly, sir, certainly.”
“Ah!” said the priest, gravely.
It was he now who found it difficult to express what he wished to say. He rolled the card between his fingers with a little movement of the lips natural to a man who measures the weight and effect of the words he is about to speak.
Suddenly he arose from his chair, and approaching one of the large windows that looked on a garden planted with fine trees, and reddened by the wintry sun, tapped lightly on the glass. A black silhouette was drawn on the window, and a young priest appeared immediately within the room.
“Duffieux,” said the Superior, “take this child out to walk with you. Show him our church and our hot-houses; he is tired of us, poor little man!”
Jack supposed that he was sent out to walk so that he might be spared the pain of saying good-bye to his mother, and his terrified, despairing expression so touched the kind priest that he hastily added,—
“Don’t be frightened, Jack. Your mother is not going away; you will find her here.”
The child still hesitated.
“Go, my dear,” said Madame de Barancy, with a queenly gesture.
Then he went without another word, as if he were already conquered by life, and prepared for all its evils.