“Monsieur!” said the Abbé, in tones of entreaty. “Reflect? Anger is a bad counsellor.”
“Monsieur l’Abbé, I am perfectly calm. You do not know me. I never give way to passion. If I did, the result would be terrible. But a great deal would be needed to bring about such a state of things!”
“Must I then leave you without obtaining any result? I am well aware that you are exposed to the most terrible dangers.”
“I thank you for warning us. We shall be on our guard.”
“Is that your last word?”
“No, Monsieur l’Abbé. Never has a priest entered this house without taking away, for himself and his work, a testimony of our respectful deference and humble piety.”
Graff took from his pocket a cheque-book, wrote a few words, and, handing the piece of paper to his visitor, said—
“For your poor parishioners, Monsieur l’Abbé.”
“Oh!” exclaimed the priest. “This is princely liberality. I will pray for you, monsieur, with all my heart.”
“Thanks, Monsieur l’Abbé,” said Graff, with a smile. “But pray, above all, for Lichtenbach.”