She smiled, too, rather uncertainly; then she said, "Hush, here is Father Duvair coming back."
That muscular young priest was sauntering towards them, his stout walking-stick under his arm, while he slowly rubbed his damp hands with his white handkerchief.
Agapit stood up when he saw him, and went to meet him, but Bidiane sat still in her old seat in the hammock.
Agapit drew a cheque-book from his pocket, and, resting it on the picket fence, wrote something quickly on it, tore out the leaf, and extended it towards the priest.
"This is for you, father; will you be good enough to hand it to some priest who is unexpectedly called upon to make certain outlays for the good of his parishioners?"
Father Duvair bowed slightly, and, without offering to take it, went on wiping his hands.
"How are you getting on with your business, Agapit?"
"I am fully occupied. My income supports me, and I am even able to lay up a little."
"Are you able to marry?"
"Yes, father, whenever I wish."