ries of the sacrileges of which this priest is accused?"

"I don't know. Docre is a gentleman, learned and well bred. He was even
the confessor of royalty, and he would certainly have become a bishop if
he had not quitted the priesthood. I have heard a great deal of evil
spoken about him, but, especially in the clerical world, people are so
fond of saying all sorts of things."

"But you knew him personally."

"Yes, I even had him for a confessor."

"Then it isn't possible that you don't know what to make of him?"

"Very possible, indeed presumable. Look here, you have been beating
around the bush a long time. Exactly what do you want to know?"

"Everything you care to tell me. Is he young or old, handsome or ugly,
rich or poor?"

"He is forty years old, very fastidious of his person, and he spends a
lot of money."

"Do you believe that he indulges in sorcery, that he celebrates the
black mass?"

"It is quite possible."

"Pardon me for dunning you, for extorting information from you as if
with forceps--suppose I were to ask you a really personal question--this
faculty of incubacy ...?"

"Why, certainly I got it from him. I hope you are satisfied."

"Yes and no. Thanks for your kindness in telling me--I know I am abusing
your good nature--but one more question. Do you know of any way whereby
I may see Canon Docre in person?"

"He is at Nimes."

"Pardon me. For the moment, he is in Paris."

"Ah, you know that! Well, if I knew of a way, I would not tell you, be
sure. It would not be good for you to get to seeing too much of this
priest."

"You admit, then, that he is dangerous?"

"I do not admit nor deny. I tell you simply that you have nothing to do
with him."

"Yes I have. I want to get material for my book from him."

"Get it from somebody else. Besides," she said, putting on her hat in
front of the glass, "my husband got a bad scare and broke with that man
and refuses to receive him."

"That is no reason why--"

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, nothing." He repressed the remark: "Why you should not see him."

She did not insist. She was poking her hair under her veil. "Heavens!
what a fright I look!"

He took her hands and kissed them. "When shall I see you again?"

"I thought I wasn't to come here any more."

"Oh, now, you know I love you as a good friend. Tell me, when will you
come again?"

"Tomorrow night, unless it is inconvenient for you."

"Not at all."

"Then, _au revoir_."

Th