The old curé ruminated a moment over this riddle, and then, apparently giving it up as hopeless, he took a large pinch of snuff and smiled benignly upon David.
"Ah, well, my son, I did not come to argue, but to ask a favor in the interest of charity. My poor sister, who is dying in a decline, as you know, has a fancy for some fresh eggs, and there are none to be had. But I know your mother has uncommon skill in the management of poultry, and I thought perhaps she might help me to one or two."
"That I am sure she will," said David. "If monsieur will walk into the house and sit down, I am quite certain I can find two or three eggs quite new laid."
Father Simon looked surprised as the old priest entered, but made him courteously welcome, and Mother Jeanne directed Lucille to put up a jug of cream and a small jar of marmalade for the invalid. The curé thanked her, accepted a glass of cider, and offered his snuff-box to old Sablot.
"Tut, tut! Don't be afraid, man," said he as the other hesitated. "That is not an act of catholicity, as they call it!" And he muttered something under his breath which did not sound like a blessing.
"Monsieur need not wonder that we are timid," remarked Father Simon.
"No, no, it is no wonder; and from all I hear, I fear that times are not likely to be easier for you, my poor Sablot. Have you been to Sartilly of late?"
"No, monsieur, I have little to take me that way."
"It is as well. Take care if you do go. It is said there are wolves about, or likely to be; and you know that she-wolves carry off children at times. Many thanks to you, Jeanne," he added, rising and taking the little basket which my foster-mother had prepared; "my blessing be upon you! An old man's blessing can do no harm, you know. Farewell!"
He closed the door, and for a moment the party sat looking at each other in silence.