"He has plenty in his hands, then, for I suppose he will fill Germain's place as cashier."
"Talking of Germain, an odd thing has occurred. The governor, in order to free him from prison, has declared that he made a mistake in his accounts, and that he has found the money he accused Germain of taking."
"I do not see anything odd in that,—it is but justice. I was sure that Germain was incapable of theft."
"Ah, here's a coach, gents!" said Chalamel, looking out of the window; "it is not a spicy turn-out like that of the famous vicomte, the gay Saint-Remy, but a hack concern."
"Who is coming out of it?"
"Only the curé,—a very worthy man he is, too."
"Silence! Some one comes in! To your work, my boys!"
And all the clerks, leaning over their desks, began to scrawl away with much apparent industry, and as if their attention had not been taken off their business for a single instant.
The pale features of the priest expressed at once a gentle melancholy combined with an air of intelligence and venerable serenity. A small black cap covered the crown of his head, while his long gray locks hung down over the collar of his greatcoat. Let us merely add to this hasty sketch, that owing to the worthy priest's implicit confidence in the words and actions of others, he was, and ever had been, completely blinded by the deep and well-practised hypocrisy of Jacques Ferrand.
"Is your worthy employer in his room, my children?" inquired the curé.