'Oh, yes! I'll come, Uncle, I'll come.'
'Ah! but that isn't enough. I want you all to come; all of you, do you hear? I am very dull out there all by myself. I will give you some dinner.'
Then, turning to Félicité, he added:
'Tell Rougon that I shall expect him and you, too. You needn't stop from coming just because the old mother happens to be near there. She is going on very well, I tell you, and is properly looked after. You may safely trust yourselves to me, and I will give you some wine from one of the slopes of La Seille, a light wine that will warm you up famously.'
He began to walk towards the gate as he spoke. Félicité followed him so closely that it almost seemed as if she were pushing him out of the garden. They all accompanied him to the street. While he was untethering his horse, which he had fastened by the reins to one of the house shutters, Abbé Faujas, who was just returning home, passed the group with a slight bow. He glided on as noiselessly as a black shadow, but Félicité quickly turned and watched him till he reached the staircase. Unfortunately she had not had time to catch sight of his face. Macquart on perceiving the priest had shaken his head in utter surprise.
'What! my boy,' said he, 'have you really got priests lodging with you now? That man has very strange eyes. Take care! take care! cassocks bring ill luck with them!'
Then he took his seat in his trap and clucked his horse on, going down the Rue Balande at a gentle trot. His round back and fur cap disappeared at the corner of the Rue Taravelle. As Mouret turned round again, he heard his mother-in-law speaking to Marthe.
'I would rather you do it,' she was saying; 'the invitation would seem less formal. I should be very glad if you could find some opportunity of speaking to him.'
She checked herself when she saw that she was overheard; and having kissed Désirée effusively, she went away, giving a last look round to make quite sure that Macquart was not likely to come back to gossip about her.
'I forbid you to mix yourself up in your mother's affairs, you know,' Mouret said to his wife as they returned into the house. 'She has always got some business or other on hand that no body can understand. What in the world can she want with the Abbé? She wouldn't invite him for his own sake, I'm sure. She must have some secret reason for doing so. That priest hasn't come from Besançon to Plassans for nothing. There is some mystery or other at the bottom of it all!'