"Ah, doctor, it was Providence that sent you here."
"Yes, because I find it in my power to render you a great service, perhaps."
The physician appeared to be a little doubtful of the good-will of Abbé Ledoux, and accepted his words not without a secret distrust.
"Let us see, my dear abbé," replied he, "what service can you render me?"
"You have sometimes spoken to me of your sister's numerous children, whom you have raised (notwithstanding your faults, wicked man) with paternal tenderness, after the early death of their parents."
"Go on, abbé," said the doctor, fixing a penetrating gaze on the saintly man, "go on."
"I was altogether ignorant that one of your nephews served in the navy, and had been made captain. His name is Horace Brémont, is it not?"
At the name of Horace, the doctor started, imperceptibly; his gaze seemed to penetrate to the depth of the abbé's heart, and he replied, coldly:
"I have a nephew who is captain in the navy and his name is Horace."