"That is better than the original," he said to himself. "The English is a large, loose-jointed language, sprawling slightly, but it is a sprawling Titan. It is rich and strong. For such a work as this, the French is a trifle too natty and crisp. Come in!"
The door opened, and his messenger stood there. Instantly all rushed across the priest's mind again. He stretched his hand for the note the boy offered him, and tore it hastily open. It was short:
"Nothing but preliminaries so far. The court sits again at two o'clock."
F. Chevreuse glanced at the clock, and saw that it was already noon. Two hours had passed like ten minutes while his mind was thus abstracted.
"Were there many people about the court-house?" he asked.
The boy had been instructed to give his notes without saying anything, and to speak only when spoken to; but he had not been told how much to say when he was spoken to. The temptation to relate what he had seen was irresistible.
"Oh! yes, father," he said, his eyes glistening with excitement. "There was such a crowd that I could hardly get out. I had to hold up the letter, and say it was for you. Then they made way."
F. Chevreuse dropped his eyes, and his face grew more troubled. "Mr. Schöninger was not in court?" he asked.
"No, sir!" The boy hesitated, and had evidently something more to say.