"Well, Jeannette, I promise to reform," said the priest, smiling; "I will go out this afternoon, and try to be more successful."
"Indeed I should advise it, Monsieur le Curé; and above all do not come back, as you did yesterday, wet to the skin, and bringing what, forsooth?--nothing but a miserable partridge!"
"Ah! but I do not mean to make a supper of that partridge, my good Jeannette: I mean to keep it."
"To keep it--holy Virgin! Keep a partridge! A live partridge! Why, Monsieur, it would devour our corn, and cost as much as twenty canaries. If you do these things, Monsieur, instead of giving alms you will have to beg."
"Be calm, Jeannette, my good Jeannette; we shall never be ruined by a partridge. Besides, it is a rare bird. Bring it here to me."
"Rare, Monsieur le Curé! I have seen them over and over again after a severe winter."
"Well, Jeannette, for my sake take care of this poor little bird, for I value it greatly. Bring it here; I wish to feed it myself."
The good housekeeper looked uneasily at her master through her great spectacles, and began glancing from right to left in evident tribulation. She did not offer, however, to rise from her seat.
"Are you dreaming, Jeannette?" said the priest, with much surprise; "did you hear me?"
"Oh, yes, Monsieur le Curé. The--the partridge...."
"Well--that is, Monsieur le Curé, you will be a little vexed, I fear--perhaps--but the partridge--"
"There--Monsieur le Curé--there was nothing in the house for supper, Monsieur le Curé--and--and so I--"
And the priest sprang from his seat, pale with anger, and advanced towards the terrified housekeeper, who fell upon her knees, and clasped her hands in a speechless appeal for mercy.
Even the dog ran trembling under the table, and uttered a low deprecatory howl.
Recalled to himself by the panic of his household, André Bernard threw himself back into his chair, and covered his face with his hands. Could one have removed those fingers, they would have seen large tears upon his sunken cheeks.
At this moment the door was opened quickly, and a man entered the room. The priest rose precipitately from his chair, for in the intruder he saw no less a person than the Baron de Pradines.
"Excuse my intrusion, Monsieur le Curé," said the gentleman, whose features wore an expression of peculiar anxiety. "I wish to speak with you in private." And he glanced towards the still-kneeling Jeannette. "You see I have not yet returned to my regiment. I have, for the present, changed my plans. Pray who is this woman?"