seen that I didn't wish to say anything to you. A nice
life, indeed! Only mountebanks do such things, Monsieur le Cure! This
is eleven o'clock, ain't it! Aren't you ashamed of sitting at table when
it's almost two o'clock? It's not like a Christian, no, it is not like a
Christian!'

And, taking her stand before him, she went on: 'Well, where do you come
from? whom have you seen? what business can have kept you? If only you
were a child you would have the whip. It isn't the place for a priest to
be, on the roads in the blazing sun like a tramp without a roof to put
over his head. A fine state you are in, with your shoes all white and
your cassock smothered in dust! Who will brush your cassock for you?
Who will buy you another one? Speak out, will you; tell me what you have
been doing! My word! if everybody didn't know you, they would end by
thinking queer things about you. And shall I tell you? Why, I won't say
but what you may have been up to something wrong. When folks lunch at
such hours they are capable of anything!'

Abbe Mouret let the storm blow over him. At the old servant's wrathful
words he experienced a kind of relief.

'Come, my good Teuse,' he said, 'you will first put your apron on
again.'

'No, no,' she cried, 'it's all over, I am going.'

But he got up and, laughing, tied her apron round her waist. She
struggled against him and stuttered: 'I tell you no! You are a wheedler.
I can see through your game, I see you want to come it over me with your
honeyed words. Where did you go? We'll see afterwards.'

He gaily sat down to table again like a man who has gained a victory.

'First, I must be allowed to eat. I am dying with hunger,' said he.

'No doubt,' she murmured, her pity moved. 'Is there any common sense
in it? Would you like me to fry you a couple of eggs? It would not take
long. Well, if you have enough. But everything is cold! And I had taken
such pains with your aubergines! Nice they are now! They look like old
shoe-leather. Luckily you haven't got a tender tooth like poor Monsieur
Caffin. Yes, you have some good points, I don't deny it.'

Thus chattering, she waited on him with all a mother's care. After he
had finished she ran to the kitchen to see if the coffee was still warm.
She frisked about and limped most outrageously in her delight at having
made things up with him. As a rule Abbe Mouret fought shy of coffee,
which always upset his nervous system; but on this occasion, to ratify
t