“Monsieur Bourget!” Félicie was aghast. “Oh, for pity’s sake, do not bring him here! I am convinced that he is both a republican and a freethinker. He is really too dreadful! I believe he would be capable of shocking the bishop, and saying something insulting to the Church. Pray, pray, Monsieur Georges!”
“For all our sakes, I think you may forget that message,” said Claire, significantly.
But M. Georges could not so soon put aside his recollection of Mme. Léon’s earnest face and the sad sorrow in her eyes. After he got back to Tours, he was going in pursuit of M. Bourget, when he met him in the street, and uttered some little jest about the reversal of their positions.
“It is I who have now returned from Poissy,” he said, smiling.
“Well?”
The word shot out so sharply that it startled the hearer.
“The visit was exceedingly gratifying to me,” he returned, “although Monsieur de Beaudrillart was unfortunately a good deal occupied. But his sister kindly showed me the improvements, and it afforded me immense pleasure to see your grandson—and Madame Léon,” he added.
M. Bourget’s face softened.
“Did—did she say anything?” he demanded.
“She desired me to beg you to come out.”