The priest closed his breviary over his finger, and coming to the window looked down at the speaker. “A dismal prospect for you, my dear boy, isn’t it?” he said, with a twinkle in his eyes.
“Horrible!” returned Louis, with a mock sigh. “Tell me, has my aunt left you in charge of the commissariat, for I know that you will forget to order any meals? . . . No? How fortunate! Please come and talk to me, Father, or else let me go round the garden. I shall lose the use of my legs if I have to lie still much longer.”
“My dear Louis,” said M. des Graves, still with the twinkle, “delighted as I should be to sit down and amuse you to the best of my poor abilities, I must point out that a parish priest, even dispossessed, has his duties. In the first place, I must finish saying my office, in which you have interrupted me; and then I have to hear confessions in the chapel. As regards the second point, unless you promise to obey my orders I shall lock you in here until I come back. I should have thought you had had your fill of exercise lately. Now promise me!”
“Very well,” said the Vicomte, with exaggerated submission, “I tender you my oath. And pray don’t let me keep you from fulfilling holy Mother Church’s behests. I will lie here meantime and think of my sins. Would you allow me to come as far as the chapel if I succeeded in raking up sufficient of them?”
If Louis had really meant this request he would probably not have phrased it differently. M. des Graves was quite aware of this, but he was not for a second deceived. Nor did he reproach his former pupil for jesting on sacred subjects. But the humour died out of his face, and his tone became singularly impressive as he said quietly: “I should be very glad, as you know, Louis, if I thought that you really meant to recall your sins. And while I am gone I will leave you another idea to think over. I am sure you do not know it, but when you took that knife in your shoulder, there was little more than the thickness of a sheet of paper between you and almost instant death. The merest trifle more to the left, and the blade would have severed the artery. You would have bled to death where you fell. There would not have been any time to think of your sins then. . . .”
He turned away abruptly, and going out of the window disappeared along the balcony, revealing to the Vicomte’s notice, not by any means for the first time, that stern profile which was in such marked contrast to his full face. “I suppose I brought that on myself!” reflected the young man, with a half-rueful smile. “One can never depend on his sense of humour; he is largely endowed—for a priest—but it fails you when you least expect it.” And for a moment or two he contemplated, not very seriously, the picture called up by the Curé’s piece of information. “It would have been a very dirty floor to die on,” he thought, “and singularly unpleasant company.” He further pondered on the possible consequences to Gilbert, concluding dispassionately that it would have been extremely inconvenient for him. “He would never have left me till I had finished with this bleeding to death which seems to afford M. des Graves so much relish. Even then he is so deuced conscientious that if he got away he would probably have encumbered himself with my corpse—more awkward still.” The idea rather amused him, until from imaginary pictures his mind slipped on to real, and for the twentieth time since his return he knitted his brows over the question of what Gilbert had meant by his tone when he asked him if he wished to send a message to Lucienne, what precisely had passed between them at supper a few nights ago, and why his cousin had locked himself in with him the other morning. Did he, could he know anything? But there was in a sense nothing to know. . . . And since Louis was still easily tired, and it was always his habit to live in the present, he abandoned these problems, and lying there in the sunlight, half dozing, half watching the lazy clouds in the afternoon sky, thought of more recent events. That morning had witnessed Madame de Château-Foix’ departure under Gilbert’s escort. Louis imagined—but as he had been confined to his room he could not verify his surmise—that the Marquise had not proved too easy to uproot. But there was no arguing with Gilbert when he had definitely made up his mind. The only thing which really surprised the Vicomte was the very short space of time which had sufficed his cousin to carry out his intention. Lazily he ran over the details of the departure as he had witnessed them from his bedroom window; lazily he calculated the time that it would take the Marquis to get to Nantes, to see his mother off, and to return. Still more lazily he came to the conclusion that, without his cousin’s presence, there was a sort of holiday feeling in the air for which he could not wholly account. On that thought he fell comfortably asleep.
A couple of days later Louis did go round the garden on the Curé’s arm, and at the end of two more days ordered a horse to be saddled for himself. Enquiries, on its non-appearance at the stated hour, revealed the fact that M. des Graves, who had just heard of his design, had countermanded the order. Laughing, but not altogether free from vexation, the Vicomte made his way to the library.
“Your Eminence,” he began mockingly, putting his head suddenly in at the door. He had the satisfaction of seeing the priest jump.
“Now, my dear Louis,” said the latter quickly, getting up from his writing, “it is no good being angry with me. As long as Gilbert is away, you are absolute master here in everything except matters relating to your own health, of which you are no more fit to take care than a child. Come now, you know I’m right!” And he came up to the young man as he stood with his back against the door.
“Eminence,” said Saint-Ermay with great gravity, repeating his new-found appellation, “I desire you to command me in all things. Is it invidious to the absent to say that I wish your reign could be extended? Make the most of the two days remaining to you, before the State comes back to dispossess the Church!” He slipped out again.