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and then fell to thinking of other things. He did not take up
the remark dropped with design by Madame Magloire. She
repeated it. Then Mademoiselle Baptistine, desirous of sat-
isfying Madame Magloire without displeasing her brother,
ventured to say timidly:—
‘Did you hear what Madame Magloire is saying, broth-
er?’
‘I have heard something of it in a vague way,’ replied the
Bishop. Then half-turning in his chair, placing his hands on
his knees, and raising towards the old servant woman his
cordial face, which so easily grew joyous, and which was il-
luminated from below by the firelight,—‘Come, what is the
matter? What is the matter? Are we in any great danger?’
Then Madame Magloire began the whole story afresh,
exaggerating it a little without being aware of the fact. It ap-
peared that a Bohemian, a bare-footed vagabond, a sort of
dangerous mendicant, was at that moment in the town. He
had presented himself at Jacquin Labarre’s to obtain lodg-
ings, but the latter had not been willing to take him in. He
had been seen to arrive by the way of the boulevard Gassendi
and roam about the streets in the gloaming. A gallows-bird
with a terrible face.
‘Really!’ said the Bishop.
This willingness to interrogate encouraged Madame Ma-
gloire; it seemed to her to indicate that the Bishop was on the
point of becoming alarmed; she pursued triumphantly:—
‘Yes, Monseigneur. That is how it is. There will be some
sort of catastrophe in this town to-night. Every one says so.
And withal, the police is so badly regulated’ (a useful rep-