The vicomte expressed little
or no surprise to learn that Victor had signed. He simply smiled; for
if others were mystified as to the poet's conduct, he was not. Often
his glance roved toward the stairs; but there were no petticoats going
up or coming down.
"Monsieur le Vicomte," said Brother Jacques, whose curiosity was eating
deeply, "will you not explain to me the cause of the Chevalier's
extraordinary conduct?"
"Ah, my little Jesuit!" said the vicomte; "so you are still burning
with curiosity? Well, I promise to tell you all about it the first
time I confess to you."
"Monsieur, have you any reason for insulting me?" asked Brother
Jacques, coldly, his pale cheeks aflame.
"Good! there is blood in you, then?" laughed the vicomte, noting the
color.
"Red and healthy, Monsieur," in a peculiar tone. Brother Jacques was
within an inch of being as tall and broad as the vicomte.
The vicomte gazed into the handsome face, and there was some doubt in
his own eyes. "You have not always been a priest?"
"Not always."
"And your antecedents?"
"A nobler race than yours, Monsieur," haughtily. "You also have grown
curious, it would seem.
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