"I cannot help it, Monsieur!"
It was noon. Twelve was striking.
X
AUNT PALMYRA.
Early in the morning of the day on which the meeting took place in the private office of the Under-Secretary of State, the proprietor of The Three Moons at Châlons was busy bottling his wine. Dawn was just breaking, and the good man had a spirit lamp in his cellar to throw light upon his task.
Suddenly his bottling operations were disturbed by an unknown voice calling him insistently from the top of the steps.
"Hey, there! Father Louis! Where is Father Louis?"
Fuming and grumbling, the innkeeper mounted his cellar-steps, and appeared on the porch.