Mauprat
that he was being heard by me, I was filled with disgust; I thought I could detect the deceit and cowardice that lay beneath this vile hypocrisy. I moved away and waited for the abbé some distance off. He soon rejoined me; the interview had ended by a mutual promise to meet again soon. The abbé had undertaken to convey the Trappist's words to me, while the latter had threatened in the most honeyed tone in the world to come and see me if I refused his request. The abbé and I agreed to consult together, without informing the chevalier or Edmée, that we might not disquiet them unnecessarily. The Trappist had gone to stay at La Châtre, at the Carmelite convent; this had thoroughly aroused the abbé's suspicions, in spite of his first enthusiasm at the penitence of the sinner. The Carmelites had persecuted him in his youth, and in the end the prior had driven him to secularize himself. The prior was still alive, old but implacable; infirm, and withdrawn from the world, but strong in his hatred, and his passion for intrigue. The abbé could not hear his name without shuddering, and he begged me to act prudently in this affair.
"Although John Mauprat," he said, "is under the bane of the law, and you are at the summit of honour and prosperity, do not despise the weakness of your enemy. Who knows what cunning and hatred may do? They can usurp the place of the just and cast him out on the dung-heap; they can fasten their crimes on others and sully the robe of innocence with their vileness. Maybe you have not yet finished with the Mauprats."
The poor abbé did not know that there was so much truth in his words.
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