house; he did all that was to be done; no woman had entered the place
since Pomfrette's cousin, old Mme. Burgoyne, left it on the day of his
shame.

When at last Pomfrette opened his eyes, and saw the Cure standing beside
him, he turned his face to the wall, and to the exhortation addressed to
him he answered nothing. At last the Cure left him, and came no more;
and he bade Parpon do the same as soon as Pomfrette was able to leave his
bed.

But Parpon did as he willed. He had been in Pontiac only a few days
since the painful business in front of the Louis Quinze. Where he had
been and what doing no one asked, for he was mysterious in his movements,
and always uncommunicative, and people did not care to tempt his
inhospitable tongue. When Pomfrette was so far recovered that he might
be left alone, Parpon said to him one evening:

"Pomfrette, you must go to Mass next Sunday."

"I said I wouldn't go till I was carried there, and I mean it--that's
so," was the morose reply.

"What made you curse like that--so damnable?" asked Parpon furtively.

"That's my own business. It doesn't matter to anybody but me."

"And you said the Cure lied--the good M'sieu' Fabre--him like a saint."

"I said he lied, and I'd say it again, and tell the truth."