The priest made a backward movement.
"Oh! for your poor!"
And, colouring, M. Jeufroy crammed the gold piece into his cassock.
To give back the bowl, the bowl for sacrifices! Never, while they lived! They were even anxious to learn Hebrew, which is the mother-tongue of Celtic, unless indeed the former language be derived from it! And they had planned a journey into Brittany, commencing with Rennes, where they had an appointment with Larsoneur, with a view of studying that urn mentioned in the Memorials of the Celtic Academy, which appeared to have contained the ashes of Queen Artimesia, when the mayor entered unceremoniously with his hat on, like the boorish individual he was.
"All this won't do, my fine fellows! You must give it up!"
"What, pray?"
"Rogues! I know well you are concealing it!"
Someone had betrayed them.
They replied that they had the curé's permission to keep it.
"We'll soon see that!"