"Madame, for God's sake!" implored the young girl.
"Show me to a room where I can lay the invalid down," said Anselmo roughly.
"Yes, yes, directly. Follow me if you are in such a hurry," growled the woman.
Just then two men who were intoxicated staggered into the hallway.
"Ah, there is Zilda," cried one of them; "quick, old woman; come in and sing us a song."
The woman opened a door and winked to the ex-priest to enter. The room was small and dirty. In the corner stood a slovenly bed upon which Anselmo deposited the invalid.
"Is there a physician in the neighborhood?" he asked.
"A physician? That is hardly worth the trouble," mocked the virago, "she is only drunk."
The ex-priest took a five-franc piece from his pocket and said:
"Get a physician, I insist upon it."