Part 2 (1/2)

With this, and an introductory wave of his hand in the direction of the attenuated and sallow-faced personage who had accompanied him, he graciously permitted Madame Patoux to humbly precede him by a few steps, and then followed her with a soft, even tread, and a sound as of rustling silk in his garments, from which a faint odour of some delicate perfume seemed wafted as he moved.

Left to entertain the Archbishop's secretary, Jean Patoux was for a minute or two somewhat embarra.s.sed. Henri and Babette stared at the stranger with undisguised curiosity, and were apparently not favourably impressed by his appearance.

”He has white eyelashes!” whispered Henri.

”And yellow teeth,” responded Babette.

Meanwhile Patoux, having scratched his bullet-head sufficiently over the matter, offered his visitor a chair.

”Sit down, sir,” he said curtly.

The secretary smiled pallidly and took the proffered accommodation.

Patoux again meditated. He was not skilled in the art of polite conversation, and he found himself singularly at a loss.

”It would be an objection no doubt, and an irreverance perhaps to smoke a pipe before you, Monsieur--Monsieur--”

”Cazeau,” finished the secretary with another pallid smile--”Claude Cazeau, a poor scribe,--at your service! And I beg of you, Monsieur Jean Patoux, to smoke at your distinguished convenience!”

There was a faint tone of satire in his voice which struck Papa Patoux as exceedingly disagreeable, though he could not quite imagine why he found it so. He slowly reached for his pipe from the projecting shelf above the chimney, and as slowly proceeded to fill it with tobacco from a tin cannister close by.

”I do not think I have ever seen you in the town, Monsieur Cazeau,” he said--”Nor at Ma.s.s in the Cathedral either?”

”No?” responded Cazeau easily, in a half-querying tone--”I do not much frequent the streets; and I only attend the first early ma.s.s on Sundays. My work for Monseigneur occupies my whole time.”

”Ah!” and Patoux, having stuffed his pipe sufficiently, lit it, and proceeded to smoke peaceably--”There must be much to do. Many poor and sick who need money, and clothes, and help in every way,--and to try and do good, and give comfort to all the unhappy souls in Rouen is a hard task, even for an Archbishop.”

Cazeau linked his thin hands together with an action of pious fervour and a.s.sented.

”There is a broken-hearted creature near us,” pursued Patoux leisurely--”We call her Marguerite La Folle;--I have often thought I would ask Pere Laurent to speak to Monseigneur for her, that she might be released from the devils that are tearing her. She was a good girl till a year or two ago,--then some villain got the ruin of her, and she lost her wits over it. Ah,'tis a sad sight to see her now--poor Marguerite Valmond!”

”Ha!” cried Henri suddenly, pointing a grimy finger at Cazeau--”Why did you jump? Did something hurt you?”

Cazeau had indeed ”jumped,” as Henri put it,--that is, he had sprung up from his chair suddenly and as suddenly sat down again with an air of impatience and discomfort. He rapidly overcame whatever emotion moved him, however, and stretched his thin mouth in a would-be amiable grin at the observant Henri.

”You are a sharp boy!” he observed condescendingly--”and tall for your age, no doubt. How old are you?”

”Eleven,” replied Henri--”But that has nothing to do with your jumping.”

”True,” and the secretary wriggled in his chair, pretending to be much amused--”But my jumping had nothing to do with you either, my small friend! I had a thought,--a sudden thought,--of a duty forgotten.”

”Oh, it was a thought, was it?” and Henri looked incredulous. ”Do thoughts always make you jump?”

”Tais-toi! Tais-toi!” murmured Patoux gently, between two whiffs of his pipe--”Excuse him, Monsieur Cazeau,--he is but a child.”

Cazeau writhed amicably.

”A delightful child,” he murmured--”And the little girl--his sister--is also charming--Ah, what fine dark eyes!--what hair! Will she not come and speak to me?”

He held out a hand invitingly towards Babette, but she merely made a grimace at him and retired backwards. Patoux smiled benevolently.

”She does not like strangers,” he explained.