“I am glad,” Domini said. “We ought all to be friends here.”
There was a perceptible pause. Then Androvsky lifted his hat.
“Good-evening, Madame,” he said. “Good-evening, Father.” And he walked away quickly.
The priest looked after him and sighed profoundly.
“Oh, Madame!” he exclaimed, as if impelled to liberate his mind to someone, “what is the matter with that man? What is the matter?”
He stared fixedly into the twilight after Androvsky’s retreating form.
“With Monsieur Androvsky?”
She spoke quietly, but her mind was full of apprehension, and she looked searchingly at the priest.
“Yes. What can it be?”
“But—I don’t understand.”