CHAPTER VIII.
LEON ROCH PAYS A VISIT.
Acting on a generous impulse, and being desirous of fulfilling the promise he had made to his wife, Leon Roch set out for Madrid and went to the church of St. Prudencio in search of Father Paoletti. Nothing could be more unlikely than that he should set foot in such a place, and when the serving-brother had asked him to wait in the bare parlour, he had leisure to reflect on the matter and on himself, with a sort of incredulous surprise, feeling as though either the place he was in or he himself must be the creation of a dream. The man who vows that he will never cross the threshold of some particular door must be either very foolish or very proud, or incapable of discerning that the swift turns of life bring us in front of those portals—open them—and push us in; and we do not even think of escape.
Leon had not had much time for these reflections when a priest stood before him; a singularly small man of middle age, with a tiny, pale, boyish face, and such large inquisitive, piercing eyes, that, in fact, he seemed all eyes. The deliberateness of his gait contrasted strangely with the smallness of his person; his steps were measured, even stately, with a firm, slow tread such as might result from constantly wearing shoes soled with lead. Paoletti bowed to his visitor with elegant politeness, and Leon, who was in no mood for ceremony, briefly explained his object. Paoletti, seating himself in front of the weary infidel with the calm tenacity of a humble believer, listened to him with the benevolence of a father confessor, cast down his eyes, knit his fingers, and twirled his thumbs—his hands it may be noted were as slender and delicate as those of a fine lady.
“Let us go,” he said looking up and stopping the rotation of his thumbs. “I have heard of her journey to Carabanchel and of her illness, but I did not know that it was serious, nor that she had been carried to Suertebella.—To the house itself?”
“To the house itself,” said Leon gloomily.
“I suppose then,” said Paoletti with a subtle intonation, “that the marquis’ daughter has come to Madrid with her darling child.”
“She is to do so to-day.”
“And you?”
“I do not purpose leaving María so long as she is ill.”