The priest closed his breviary over his finger, and coming to the window looked down at the speaker. “A dismal prospect for you, my dear boy, isn’t it?” he said, with a twinkle in his eyes. “Horrible!” returned Louis, with a mock sigh. “Tell me, has my aunt left you in charge of the commissariat, for I know that you will forget to order any meals? . . . No? How fortunate! Please come and talk to me, Father, or else let me go round the garden. I shall lose the use of my legs if I have to lie still much longer.” “My dear Louis,” said M. des Graves, still with the twinkle, “delighted as I should be to sit down and amuse you to the best of my poor abilities, I must point out that a parish priest, even dispossessed, has his duties. In the first place, I must finish saying my office, in which you have interrupted me; and then I have to hear confessions in the chapel. As regards the second point, unless you promise to obey my orders I shall lock you in here until I come back. I should have thought you had had your fill of exercise lately. Now promise me!” “Very well,” said the Vicomte, with exaggerated submission, “I tender you my oath. And pray don’t let me keep you from fulfilling holy Mother Church’s behests. I will lie here meantime and think of my sins. Would you allow me to come as far as the chapel if I succeeded in raking up sufficient of them?” If Louis had really meant this request he would probably not have phrased it differently. M. des Graves was quite aware of this, but he was not for a second deceived. Nor did he reproach his former pupil for jesting on sacred subjects. But the humour died out of his face, and his tone became singularly impressive as he said quietly: “I should be very glad, as you know, Louis, if I thought that you really meant to recall your sins. And while I am gone I will leave you another idea to think over. I am sure you do not know it, but when you took that knife in your shoulder, there was little more than the thickness of a sheet of paper between you and almost instant death. The merest trifle more to the left, and the blade would have severed the artery. You would have bled to death where you fell. There would not have been any time to think of your sins then. . . .”