And he wrote three letters: one to his uncle, the other to the Comtesse, and the third to the Bishop, entreating them to excuse him, and telling them that he did not feel qualified to perform his ministry in a large town. He implored Monseigneur to leave him at Althausen and to think no more about him.
But the night brings counsel. And when he woke up the next morning and saw his three letters on the table, he thought that he could not do a more awkward thing.
He threw them in the fire, dressed and went out. The idea came to him of going to see the parish which was destined for him. He followed the streets, drawn in a straight line, of that too regular city, and when he arrived at the corner of the Rue des Carmes, he heard his name pronounced. Be turned round and saw the landlord of the inn where he was accustomed to stay, when he came to Nancy.
—What, you are passing before my door without coming in, Monsieur le Curé;
I was expecting you, however. I had prepared your room.
—You were expecting me, Monsieur Patin? And who told you that I was here?
—Who told me that? It was a young person who is very pretty, upon my word. She came to ask for you yesterday evening, and we expected you up to ten o'clock.
—Dark? said Marcel much disturbed.
—No, fair, the prettiest fair complexion which I have ever seen.
Marcel remembered immediately the little mountebank, whom he had altogether forgotten, and to whom he had given the address of Monsieur Patin's hotel, where he had expected to stay.
—It is a young girl who is recommended to me, he said; I regret that I did not see her.