“If you intend to give them to Saint-Gatien, allow me to offer frames that will be more suitable and worthy of the place, and of the works themselves.” (“I wish I could force you to betray that you have taken Birotteau’s things for your own,” thought she.)
“They do not belong to me,” said the priest, on his guard.
“Here is the deed of relinquishment,” said Madame de Listomere; “it ends all discussion, and makes them over to Mademoiselle Gamard.” She laid the document on the table. (“See the confidence I place in you,” thought she.) “It is worthy of you, monsieur,” she added, “worthy of your noble character, to reconcile two Christians,—though at present I am not especially concerned for Monsieur Birotteau—”
“He is living in your house,” said Troubert, interrupting her.
“No, monsieur, he is no longer there.” (“That peerage and my nephew’s promotion force me to do base things,” thought she.)
The priest remained impassible, but his calm exterior was an indication of violent emotion. Monsieur Bourbonne alone had fathomed the secret of that apparent tranquillity. The priest had triumphed!
“Why did you take upon yourself to bring that relinquishment,” he asked, with a feeling analogous to that which impels a woman to fish for compliments.
“I could not avoid a feeling of compassion. Birotteau, whose feeble nature must be well known to you, entreated me to see Madaemoiselle Gamard and to obtain as the price of his renunciation—”
The priest frowned.
“of rights upheld by distinguished lawyers, the portrait of—”