“I do not know, Monsieur.”
“You have been opposite him here these months past—did you ever see anything not—not as it should be?”
“With him, Monsieur? Never.”
“It is as though the infidel behaved like a good Catholic and a Christian?”
“There are good Catholics in Chaudiere who do not behave like Christians.”
“What would you say, for instance, about his past?”
“What should I say about his past, Monsieur? What should I know?”
“You should know more than any one else in Chaudiere. The secrets of his breast might well be bared to you.”
She started and crimsoned. Before her eyes there came a mist obscuring the Seigneur, and for an instant shutting out the world. The secrets of his breast—what did he mean? Did he know that on Monsieur’s breast was the red scar which...
M. Rossignol’s voice seemed coming from an infinite distance, and as it came, the mist slowly passed from her eyes.