The Bishop shook his head as he murmured:
'Yes, yes; I remember the offer you made to me. You have an excellent heart; but what an uproar there would be, if I were to break with Abbé Fenil! I should have my ears deafened for a whole week! And yet if I could feel quite sure that you could really rid me of him, if I was not afraid that at a week's end he would come back and crush your neck under his heel——'
Abbé Faujas could not repress a smile. Tears were welling from the Bishop's eyes.
'Yes, I am afraid, I am afraid,' the prelate resumed, as he again sank down into his chair. 'I don't feel equal to it yet. It is that miserable man who has killed Compan and has kept his death agony a secret from me so that I might not go and close his eyes. He is capable of the most terrible things. But, you see, I like to live in peace. Fenil is very energetic and he renders me great services in the diocese. When I am no longer here, matters will perhaps be better ordered.'
He grew calmer again and his smile returned.
'Besides, everything is going on satisfactorily at present, and I don't see any immediate difficulty. We can wait.'
Abbé Faujas sat down, and calmly resumed:
'No doubt: but still you will have to appoint a Curé for Saint-Saturnin's in succession to the Abbé Compan.'
Monseigneur Rousselot lifted his hands to his temples with an expression of hopelessness.