“Because it is evening. The streets are always full just before dinner-time.”
“But who follows you? What sort of people?”
“All sorts. Men about town, workmen and priests. Yesterday a nigger followed me. He had on a hat that shone like a mirror. He was awfully sweet.”
“Did he speak to you?”
“Oh, yes. He said: ‘Madame, will you go for a drive with me? Or are you afraid of losing your reputation?’”
“What a silly remark!”
“Some of them say much sillier things,” she answered gravely. “Adieu, mon petit, we’ve had a lovely time to-day.”
Her hand was already on the key of the door when he stopped her.
“Clotilde,” said he, “promise me you will go and see Loyer, and that you will say to him very nicely, ‘M. Loyer, you have a vacant see to dispose of. Make Abbé Guitrel bishop, you cannot do better. The Pope thinks very highly of him.’”
She shook her pretty head.