oman who had been shamefully deceived. Her curiosity
smarted. She again walked round the table, not looking at the Abbe, not
addressing anybody, but comforting herself with soliloquy.

'That's it; that's why we have lunch so late! We go gadding about till
two o'clock in the afternoon. We go into such disreputable houses that
we don't even dare to tell what we've done. And then we tell lies, we
deceive everybody.'

'But nobody,' gently interrupted Abbe Mouret, who was forcing himself to
eat a little more, so as to prevent La Teuse from getting crosser than
ever, 'nobody asked me if I had been to the Paradou. I have not had to
tell any lies.'

La Teuse, however, went on as if she had never heard him.

'Yes, we go ruining our cassock in the dust, we come home rigged up like
a thief. And if some kind person takes an interest in us, and
questions us for our own good, we push her about and treat her like
a good-for-nothing woman, whom we can't trust. We hide things like
a slyboots, we'd rather die than breathe a word; we're not even
considerate enough to enliven our home by relating what we've seen.'

She turned to the priest, and looked him full in the face.

'Yes, you take that to yourself. You are a close one, you're a bad man!'

Thereupon she fell to crying and the Abbe had to soothe her.

'Monsieur Caffin used to tell me everything,' she moaned out.

However, she soon grew calmer. Brother Archangias was finishing a big
piece of cheese, apparently quite unruffled by the scene. In his opinion
Abbe Mouret really needed being kept straight, and La Teuse was right
in making him feel the reins. Having drunk a last glassful of the weak
wine, the Brother threw himself back in his chair to digest his meal.

'Well now,' finally asked the old servant, 'what did you see at the
Paradou? Tell us, at any rate.'

Abbe Mouret smiled and related in a few words how strangely Jeanbernat
had received him. La Teuse, after overwhelming him with questions, broke
out into indignant exclamations, while Brother Archangias clenched his
fists and brandished them aloft.

'May Heaven crush him!' said he, 'and burn both him and his witch!'

In his turn the Abbe then endeavoured to elicit some fresh particulars
about the people at the Paradou, and listened intently to the Brother's
monstrous narrative.

'Yes, that little she-devil came and sat down in the school. It's a long
time ago now, she might then have been about ten. Of course, I l