They were alone in the coupé, and could converse at their ease.
—Look at this lovely country, that valley, those little hills, and away there the large woods, and do you not think that I shall feel some regret at leaving this part?
—And that little white house at the foot of the hill?… Is it there?
—Ah! so Veronica has pointed it out to you.
—Reluctantly, my son. But I wanted to know all. She is a cautious and trustworthy person who is entirely devoted to you.
—Not a word more about that cautious woman, uncle, I pray.
—Let us rather talk about your promotion.
—My promotion. I assure you, uncle, that I am no longer ambitious.
—What are you saying there? You are no longer ambitious! You are going perhaps to make me believe that you are happy in your shell. Come, rouse yourself. Has a moral torpor already seized you? You are no longer ambitious. Well, I will be so for you, and I intend, yes, I intend, do you hear, that you should make your way. What happiness for a poor old man, like me, when I hear them say: "Monsieur Ridoux, I have just seen your nephew, Monseigneur Marcel, go by." I shall answer then: "It is I, however, who have made him, who have formed him, his Right-Reverence." You will give me your patronage, will you not?
—Dear uncle, said Marcel softened, pressing the old Curé's hands, you still have those ideas then, you always think then that I shall become a Bishop?