At this the children promptly took to their heels.
II
Abbé Mouret, now wearing his cassock but still bareheaded, had come back to kneel at the foot of the altar. In the grey light that streamed through the window, his tonsure showed like a large livid spot amidst his hair; and a slight quiver, as if from cold, sped down his neck. With his hands tightly clasped he was praying earnestly, so absorbed in his devotions that he did not hear the heavy footsteps of La Teuse, who hovered around without daring to disturb him. She seemed to be grieved at seeing him bowed down there on his knees. For a moment, she thought that he was in tears, and thereupon she went behind the altar to watch him. Since his return, she had never liked to leave him in the church alone, for one evening she had found him lying in a dead faint upon the flagstones, with icy lips and clenched teeth, like a corpse.
‘Come in, mademoiselle!’ she said to Desirée, who was peeping through the vestry-doorway. ‘He is still here, and he will lay himself up. You know you are the only person that he will listen to.’
‘It is breakfast-time,’ she replied softly, ‘and I am very hungry.’
Then she gently sidled up to the priest, passed an arm round his neck, and kissed him.
‘Good morning, brother,’ she said. ‘Do you want to make me die of hunger this morning?’
The face he turned upon her was so intensely sad, that she kissed him again on both his cheeks. He was emerging from agony. Then, on recognising her, he tried to put her from him, but she kept hold of one of his hands and would not release it. She would scarcely allow him to cross himself, but insisted upon leading him away.
‘Come! Come! for I am very hungry. You must be hungry too.’