Meanwhile the abbé walked up and down in the courtyard; to judge by his expression he was in no pleasant frame of mind.
When he came to table, Fandor noticed that he forgot to pronounce the Benedicite. He was still more interested when the ecclesiastic attacked a tasty chicken with great gusto.
"This is certainly the 1st of December, therefore a fast day according to the episcopal mandate, which I have read ... and behold my little priest is devouring meat! The hotel-keeper offered us fish just now, and I quite understood why, but it seems fasting is not obligatory for this priest—unless this priest is not a priest!"
Whilst the abbé was enjoying his chicken in silence, with eyes fixed on his plate, Fandor once again subjected him to a minute examination. He noted his delicate features, his slim hands, his graceful attitudes: he was so impressed by this and various little details, that when the abbé, after dessert and a last glass of cider, rose and proposed that they should go up to their room for the night, Fandor declared to himself:
"My head on a charger for it! I bet that little abbé is a woman, then more mystery, and a probable husband or lover who may come on the scene presently! Fandor, my boy, beware of this baggage! Not an eye must you close this night!"
The priest had had the famous package taken upstairs and placed at the foot of his bed.
Fandor and the abbé wished each other good night.
"As for me," declared Fandor, unlacing his boots, "I cannot keep my eyes open!"
"I can say the same," replied his companion.
Fandor's next remark had malice in it.