THE BISHOP AND THE CONVICT
By Victor Hugo
That evening, after his walk in the town, the Bishop of D— remained quite late in his room. At eight o’clock he was still at work, writing with some inconvenience on little slips of paper, with a large book open on his knees, when Mme. Magloire, as usual, came in to take the silver from the panel by the bed. A moment after, the bishop, knowing that the table was laid, and that his sister was perhaps waiting, closed his book and went into the dining-room.
Just as the bishop entered Mme. Magloire was speaking with some warmth. It was a discussion on the means of fastening the front door.
It seems that while Mme. Magloire was out making provisions for supper she had heard the news in sundry places. There was talk that an ill-favored runaway, a suspicious vagabond, had arrived and was lurking somewhere near the town, and that it was the part of wise people to secure their doors thoroughly.
“Brother, do you hear what Mme. Magloire says?”
“I heard something of it indistinctly,” said the bishop. Then, turning his chair half round, putting his hands on his knees, and raising toward the old servant his cordial and good-humored face, which the firelight shone upon, he said: “Well, well, what is the matter! Are we in any great danger?”
Then Mme. Magloire began her story again, unconsciously exaggerating it a little. It appeared that a barefooted gypsy man, a sort of dangerous beggar, was in the town. A man with a knapsack and a rope and a terrible-looking face.
“Indeed!” said the bishop.
“We say that this house is not safe at all; and, if monseigneur will permit me, I will go out and tell Paulin Musebois, the locksmith, to come and put the old bolts in the door again; they are there, and it will take but a minute. I say we must have bolts, were it only for to-night; for I say that a door that opens with a latch on the outside to the first comer, nothing could be more horrible; and then monseigneur has the habit of always saying: ‘Come in’ even at midnight. But, my goodness, there is no need to even ask leave—”