ke laughter.
And Pere Benart took out his handkerchief and coughed violently.

"Reproof, I say, is painful to me," repeated the bishop blandly, "but
I should be a renegade to my duty, if I spared you, my child, in order
to spare myself. First, I must complain of the actual encouragement
you give to vice by permitting that niece of Peter Embden's to remain
in his house, which is your property."

"I do it, your Grace," replied Francezka, sweetly, and with a glance
at Father Benart, "by the express advice of my director."

And then, with folded hands, she sat demurely looking down, and
leaving Father Benart to shoulder the burden alone. The good bishop
saw that he had two recalcitrants to deal with instead of one; so,
like other weak, well-meaning men, he resorted to bluster when reason
did not suggest itself to him.

"It is my opinion," he said, raising his voice, "that Lisa Embden
should be sent out of this parish--sent to some city, where her past
is not known, and where she can give no scandal."

Francezka turned sweetly to her accomplice, and said:

"You hear that, Father Benart? The bishop looks to you to enforce
this."

Father Benart said not a word, but raising his eyes to the ceiling,
seemed to be absorbed either in prayer or in uncomplimentary
speculation about his brother. The bishop, who was not quite a fool,
saw that he had not gained his point. He then charged again, but this
time against another position.

"We will speak later of this affair of Lisa. To come now to something
more nearly concerning yourself. While your loyal devotion to your
husband, and your constant expectation of his return, do your heart
infinite honor, Madame, it is not equally flattering to your head. As
Swift, an English writer says, reason goes to cuffs with imagination,
and fancy gets astride of judgment. For, distressing as it is to me to
say it, I must tell you that Monsieur Gaston Cheverny will never
return."

Francezka grew a little pale at these words, but rallied after a
moment, speaking courteously.

"Such is your Grace's opinion. But you can not expect Gaston
Cheverny's wife to be the first to give up hoping for him."

"By no means. But--Madame Cheverny--you are a widow--and you should
conduct yourself as such. You should put on mourning, and place the
affairs of your husband before the courts, that they may be settled.
In short--pardon the form in which I put it--but you are a widow and
should conduct yourself