"For shame, M. le Curé!" cried the merry-makers. "We can have no abstinence to-night. Do penance and drink the health alone."
"To the health of M. le Baron de Pradines!" said the priest in a hollow voice, and emptied his glass at a draught.
"Bravo! bravo, M. le Curé!" cried the gentlemen, rattling their glasses, by way of applause. "Nothing like the amende honorable!"
At this moment, a succession of thundering blows upon the outer gate startled the revellers into a momentary silence.
"The Baron de Pradines, for a hundred crowns!" cried the Marquis de Florac.
André Bernard turned paler than before.
"Who comes?" asked the Countess. "Go, Pierre," she said to a servant behind her chair, "go and see if it be M. de Pradines."
In a moment the valet returned, pale and speechless. A confused murmur was heard without.
"Who is there?" asked the Countess.
"Doubtless," said the Curé, in a hoarse wandering voice, "doubtless it is one of the guests who has arrived in time for the dessert."