"And the treasure, I tell you, those Napoleons and sovereigns, all that gold, is here in St. Placide, in the same iron box, of a weight more than you could lift, my strong nephew. No, you could do it, with some assistance, and that is why I have asked you to come. Eh, Pamphile, would not an adventure like this be as good as gambling in Nevada? Not so amusing, perhaps, but quite as profitable."
"Quite so, my aunt. And where, if I may ask, is this wonderful treasure to be found?"
"All in good time, my nephew, when everything is arranged. You will help me, will you not? We will divide the spoils. You shall have two-thirds of the treasure. I shall have the rest, and my revenge. Are the terms satisfactory?"
"More than satisfactory, my dear aunt. And the little priest, what of him?"
"Oh, that will explain itself. You will get even with him very soon, never fear. It is my little secret for the present. Yes, a fine little secret. It will reveal itself before long. If not, I will tell you."
"My aunt," said Pamphile, impatiently, "I don't give a hoot for your little secret. Keep it to yourself as long as you like, but give me something to eat."
"Well! well! Such are men--always eating. Nothing can satisfy them, neither gold, nor love, nor revenge--only meat, potatoes, soup and all that. Well, my nephew, I was expecting you, and presently we shall have a little repast together--soup of peas, fried trout, strawberries, cream, tea. How will that do? Ah, Pamphile, what a fine, tall man you are! What arms, shoulders, legs! More than a match for that Jean Baptiste, surely."
"No, my aunt; he is a giant, that little priest. My fingers tingle still from that grip of his. No, but I shall punish him all the same. There are other ways."
"Ha! Ha!" cackled the old crone, in glee. "There are other ways. Yes, indeed. Ah, my little secret, my dear little secret."
CHAPTER XIV