But the youth did not care to talk, and so showed no sign.
“My son, peace be with you!” repeated Father Anselm, coming to the bars and wearing a benevolent mien.
Geoffrey remained quite still.
“If repentance for thy presumption hath visited thee——” went on the Father.
“Hypocrite!” was the word that jumped to the youth’s lips; but fortunately he stopped in time, and only moved his legs with some impatience.
“I perceive with pain, my son,” said Father Anselm, “that repentance hath not yet visited thee. Well, ’twill come. And that’s a blessing too,” he added, sighing very piously.
“He plays a part pretty well,” thought Geoffrey as he listened. “So will I.” Then he raised his head.
“How long am I to stay in this place?” he inquired, taking a tone of sullen humour, such as he thought would fit a prisoner.
“Certainly until thy present unbridled state of sin is purged out of thee,” replied the Father.
“Under such a dose as thou art,” Geoffrey remarked, “that will be soon.”