“Not exactly, my dear,” replied the priest; “I feel a very peculiar sensation in my pericardium, and a dizziness about the head.”
“Can I do anything for you?” inquired Jaqueline.
“I think,” said Father Dunstan, “nay, I am sure that it would do me good to hear you talk a little, my dear Mademoiselle.”
“Very well,” replied Jaqueline, “I don’t mind talking a great deal, if that will be of any service: but what must it be about?”
“Anything. Only speak kindly.”
“Speak kindly! why, how can I speak in any other way to such a nice good old man as you are?”
“No, no, not very old. Don’t talk so,” said the priest, reproachfully.
“Well then, I won’t,” continued Jaqueline—“for I’ll please you, if I can; and, now I look at you again, really I shouldn’t have thought you’d been so old as you are, if I didn’t remember that, when I was a child, you looked much the same as you do now; and I’ve heard my father say——”
“Never mind what, my dear. Don’t mention it.”
“Very well, father, then I’ve done, though I can’t see how it signifies about your age, when you are so hearty and strong as you are.”