Olympe sat up to sip her grog.
'No, no, indeed!' she said.
Trouche laughed. He was drunkenly merry, and fell back into an armchair in a state of happy self-satisfaction.
'Don't let us quarrel,' he stammered. 'It is a mere nothing; only a little giddiness. The air, which is very cold, made me dizzy, that's all. And your streets in this confounded town are so very confusing. I say, Faujas, there are some very nice young fellows about here. There's Doctor Porquier's son. You know Doctor Porquier, don't you? Well, I meet the son at a café behind the gaol. It is kept by a woman from Arles, a fine handsome woman with a dark complexion.'
The priest crossed his arms and looked at him with a terrible expression.
'No, really, Faujas, I assure you that it is quite wrong of you to be angry with me. You know that I have been well brought up, and that I know how to behave myself. Why, in the day-time I wouldn't touch a drop of syrup for fear of compromising you. Since I have been here I have gone to my office just like a boy going to school, with slices of bread and jam in a little basket. It's a very stupid sort of life, I can assure you, and I only do it to be of service to you. But at night, I'm not likely to be seen, and I can go about a little. It does me good, and, in fact, I should die if I always kept myself locked up here. There is no one in the streets, you know. What funny streets they are, eh?'
'Sot!' growled the priest between his clenched teeth.
'You won't be friends, then? Well, that's very wrong of you, old chap. I'm a jolly fellow myself, and I don't like sour looks, and if what I do doesn't please you, I'll leave you to get on with your pious ladies by yourself. That little Condamin is the only decent one amongst them, and even she doesn't come up to the café-keeper from Arles. Oh, yes! you may roll your eyes about as much as you like. I can get on quite well without you. See! would you like me to lend you a hundred francs?'
He drew out a bundle of bank-notes and spread them on his knees, laughing loudly as he did so. Then he swept them under the Abbé's nose and threw them up in the air. Olympe sprang out of bed, half naked, picked up the notes and placed them under the bolster with an expression of vexation. Abbé Faujas glanced around him with great surprise. He saw bottles of liqueurs ranged all along the top of the chest of drawers, a scarcely touched patty was on the mantelpiece, and there were some sweetmeats in an old box. The room was, indeed, full of recent purchases; dresses thrown over the chairs, an open parcel of lace, a magnificent new overcoat hanging from the window-catch, and a bearskin rug spread out in front of the bed. By the side of Olympe's glass of grog on the little table there also lay a small gold lady's watch glittering in a porcelain tray.