“Monsieur,” she answered, in a tone of solemnity, “is, I think, the celebrated Monsieur de la Peyrade, the advocate of the poor?”
“I am la Peyrade; and I have had, it is true, an opportunity to render services to the indigent persons of this quarter.”
“Would it, then, be asking too much of monsieur’s goodness that he should suffer me to consult him?”
“This place,” replied la Peyrade, “is not well chosen for such consultation. What you have to say to me seems important, to judge by the length of time you have been hesitating to speak to me. I live near here, rue Saint-Dominique d’Enfer, and if you will take the trouble to come to my office—”
“It will not annoy monsieur?”
“Not in the least; my business is to hear clients.”
“At what hour—lest I disturb monsieur—?”
“When you choose; I shall be at home all the morning.”
“Then I will hear another mass, at which I can take the communion. I did not dare to do so at this mass, for the thought of speaking to monsieur so distracted my mind. I will be at monsieur’s house by eight o’clock, when I have ended my meditation, if that hour does not inconvenience him.”
“No; but there is no necessity for all this ceremony,” replied la Peyrade, with some impatience.