“What! the incomparable honour of delivering him lies in your hands and you delay! Have a fear, Madam, have a fear that the Lord in the day of your own deliverance may keep your niggardly soul waiting and languishing in just such a manner outside the gates of Paradise!”
He became menacing—terrible; then, suddenly and swiftly raising the cross of a rosary to his lips, he absented himself in a rapid prayer.
“Surely there’s time for me to write to Paris?” moaned the Countess wildly.
“Telegraph! Tell your banker to deposit the sixty thousand francs at the Crédit Foncier in Paris and tell them to telegraph to the Crédit Foncier at Pau to remit the sum immediately. It’s rudimentary.”
“I have some money on deposit at Pau,” she stammered.
Then his indignation knew no bounds.
“Ah, Madam! All this beating about the bush before you tell me so? Is this your eagerness? What would you say now if I were to refuse your assistance?...”
Then pacing up and down the room, his hands crossed behind his back, and as though nothing she could say now could placate him:
“This is worse than lukewarmness,” and he made little clicks with his tongue to show his disgust, “this is almost duplicity.”
“Monsieur l’abbé, I implore you....”