Père Jerome laid his hat upon a chest of drawers, sat down opposite her, and said, as he wiped his kindly face:
"Well, Madame Carraze?"
Gentle as the tone was, she started, ceased fanning, lowered the fan to her knee, and commenced smoothing its feathers.
"Père Jerome"—She gnawed her lip and shook her head.
"Well?"
She burst into tears.
The priest rose and loosed the curtain of one of the windows. He did it slowly—as slowly as he could, and, as he came back, she lifted her face with sudden energy, and exclaimed:
"Oh, Père Jerome, de law is brogue! de law is brogue! I brogue it! 'Twas me! 'Twas me!"
The tears gushed out again, but she shut her lips very tight, and dumbly turned away her face. Père Jerome waited a little before replying; then he said, very gently:
"I suppose dad muss 'ave been by accyden', Madame Delphine?"