things were not there and the room was empty. Blind
and lame though I am I immediately rushed off ...
but too late, already a good hour too late . . . Ai, it
is finished, she has broken my heart, her ingratitude
has undoubtedly killed me!3 Then he started to curse
and upbraid the sisters for idle, loose-living, impious
women who had taken his money while neglecting
the child: 'Was it for this that I paid them,' he raged,
'that I fed that pot-bellied Reverend Mother, that
I emptied my purse — yes, year after year — so that
they might teach the child to be virtuous! Ah, the
vipers, the vile, hypocritical strumpets, the usurers!
I shall write to the bishop.3
Marie said: 'I am grieved for you, Eusebe — I am
naturally grieved at what you have told me. There is
one thing, however, that I cannot permit: you shall
not insult those good nuns in my presence; moreover
if you yourself attended Mass. . , .3 But at that
Eusebe lurched from the house and went hobbling
quickly towards la Tarasque.
Arrived at the cafe he burst out afresh: 'Is this
place of yours a bordel?3 he shouted, 'It is here that
my granddaughter met that swine with whom she has
gone off this morning to Paris. I shall make it my
business to inform the police!3
Mere Melanie adjusted a curling-pin, then she said:
*I am not yet deaf, Eusebe.5
He stamped, groaned loudly and clutched at his
back — ten thousand devils! it was stiffening again,
in a moment he might not be able to move: 'Tell me
all that you know of this business,3 he babbled.
'What should I know?3 asked Mere Melanie blandly,
'They would often retire to his rooms together, and the
waiter now tells me that they bolted the doors, but of
course they had the excuse of the portrait, though why
they must bolt the doors for that. . * . However, it
was really none of my business.3
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