“I forbid the marriage”
“Come, M. Ribaut,” he said coolly, “how about those ten thousand crowns you parted with this morning?”
Ribaut stared in astonishment, and his blood shot to his eyes, as he realized his danger.
“M. le Curé,” he protested at last, with an effort at composure, “one does not believe the ranting of every madman who happens in from the street. Let him bring forward his proof of this ridiculous charge.”
“I have my proof,” said d’Argenson, with a calmness I was far from sharing. “Come forward, my friend,” he added, turning towards the place where I stood.
I lifted the tapestry and stepped into the church. Ribaut and Briquet stared at me in amazement. Evidently they did not know me, but the eyes of love were keener.
“Pierre!” cried Nanette. “Oh, Pierre! And they told me you were dead!”
“Really, M. le Curé,” sneered Ribaut, “one would say this was a theatre and not a church. What comedy is this? From what gutter did you drag that scoundrel?”
“You have a short memory, it seems, M. Ribaut,” I retorted. “I did not think you would forget our last interview so quickly. I see that you still have the marks of it on your face.”