Peter, in response to a ring of the bell, brought a tray, with wine and glasses. At the first sip of wine, the bishop’s countenance cleared. He was a judge of wines and that in his glass was worthy even of the Bishop of Louvain.
“This is admirable—the best of the Mosel vineyards,” he said.
“Yes,” sweetly replied Francezka. “I stocked the cellar last year with good wine at a reasonable price—” which she named.
The bishop blinked his eyes at her. How came it, that she, a woman, should have so good a head? And being practical in the purchase of wine and the management of affairs should be so impractical concerning her missing husband? However, the bishop would depart, 330 so he said adieu to us all, and accompanied by Father Benart, went away, to spend the night at the priest’s house.
I made no remark about the bishop’s visit, but I saw that it was not without its effect on Francezka, in spite of her spirited protest to his Grace. She was more silent all of that day than I had yet seen her, and there was a heart-breaking look in her eyes that went to my heart, and also to the heart of the dog, Bold; for, seeing her pensive, he rose from his place at her feet, and laid his head, with a little whine of sympathy, upon her lap. For once, Francezka forgot to notice him. Her eyes were fixed on something afar which yet she saw not, and I heard her murmur:
“Oh, my tired heart!”
Father Benart told me afterward, the conclusion of the bishop’s concern about Lisa. The little priest did not tell it me exactly as I repeat it; but what I had seen of his Grace supplied all details. His defeat at Francezka’s hands determined him on punishing somebody, and Father Benart and Lisa being convenient, they became the natural objects of the bishop’s righteous indignation. In the evening, after his arrival at his brother’s house, the bishop told Father Benart that he felt it his duty to speak to Lisa Embden—he was fearful that the girl’s soul would be lost for want of counsel and reproof. Father Benart, without protesting, said that he would send for Lisa in the morning. Next morning, when the bishop was having his breakfast in the garden, Lisa appeared. This brazen creature, as the bishop chose to esteem her, looked anything but brazen. With every indication of privations undergone, 331 and with her poor clothes, Lisa was a very good exemplification that the wages of sin is death.
The bishop calling up his sternest accents said:
“I know what your sin has been—are you truly penitent for it?”
Lisa made a faint sound, indicating her penitence.