If it had not been for the valet's insolence, Marcel would no doubt have gone away, and perhaps, would have abandoned the affair; but, humiliated at hearing himself addressed in that tone, he became obstinate.
—Can you not then inform Monseigneur that the Curé of Althausen desires to speak with him?
—Althausen! Ah, well! I believe that the Curé of Mattaincourt and Monsieur le Curé of the Cathedral have called and not been received, replied the valet; consequently, he added in petto, we shall not disturb ourselves for a junior like you.
—Can I speak with Monseigneur the Secretary?
—Monsieur l'Abbé Gaudinet does not like to be disturbed, and I believe besides that he is in conference with his Lordship.
Marcel was aware that in the episcopal Palace the village Curés are treated with less regard than the dogs in the back-yard; therefore he took his own part, and he had just sat down on a bench without saying a word, deliberating with himself whether be ought to wait or to go away, when a little priest with a busy and important air, with spectacles on his nose and a pen behind his ear, quickly crossed the anteroom.
—Is it not Monsieur l'Abbé Gaudinet? said Marcel rising.
—Ah, cried the former, Monsieur le Curé of Althausen, I think?
It was the Secretary, and he aspired, as may be remembered, to the envied post of curate at St. Nicholas. He thought to obtain the good graces of Ridoux by rendering a service to Marcel.
—Monseigneur is really too much engaged, said he, but I will obtain admittance for you anyhow.