"M. l'Abbé," said the notary, "I entreat you, do not speak of my virtues—you confuse me—it is painful."
"And who will speak of them, then—will it be yourself?" answered Polidori affectionately; "but you will be obliged to praise him still more, M. l'Abbé: you perhaps do not know who is the servant that took the place of Louise Morel and Madame Séraphin. You do not know what he has done for this poor Cecily, M. l'Abbé, for so she is named."
The notary started from his seat, his eyes sparkling under his spectacles, a burning red diffused over his livid face.
"Hush! be silent!" he cried; "not a word more. I forbid it!"
"Come, come, calm yourself," said the abbé, smiling benevolently; "another good action to reveal? As for myself, I strongly approve of the generous indiscretion of your friend. I did not know this servant, for it was just after her arrival that my worthy friend, overwhelmed with business, was obliged momentarily, to my great regret, to interrupt our relations."
"It was to conceal from you this new good action he meditated, M. l'Abbé; thus, although his modesty revolts at the mention of it, he must hear me, and you shall know all," said Polidori, smiling.
Jacques Ferrand was silent; he leaned on his desk, and concealed his face in his hands.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE BANK FOR THE POOR.
"Imagine then, M. l'Abbé," resumed Polidori, addressing the curé, but emphasizing, as it were, each phrase by an ironical glance at Jacques Ferrand—"imagine that my friend found in his new servant, who, as I have already told you, was called Cecily, the best qualities, great modesty, angelic sweetness, and above all, much piety. This is not all; Jacques, you know, owes to his long practice in business affairs an extreme penetration; he soon saw that this young woman, for she was young and very pretty, M. l'Abbé—that this young and pretty woman was not made for a servant, and that, to principles most virtuously austere, she added solid accomplishments very diversified."