That gentleman rose, and taking up a paper, read in a voice devoid of expression:-- ‘We, the undersigned, did, on the night of September 3, 1788, see a young girl, Gabrielle André, secretly enter the parsonage of Robert Thomas Lindet, curé of S. Cross, at Bernay, between the hours of eleven and twelve at night, the said Robert Thomas Lindet himself admitting her, and closing and locking the door after her. And we, the undersigned, have ascertained that the said girl, Gabrielle André, did remain in the house of the priest that night till the hour of seven in the morning.’ This document was signed by Foulon, Berthier, Gustave, and Adolphe. The bishop closed his fingers over his breast, leaned back in his chair, thrust his feet out under the table, settled his neck comfortably in his cravat, and looked at Lindet. The priest grew pale, not with fear, but with indignation. ‘Have you anything to say upon this?’ asked the prelate, blandly. Lindet flashed a glance at him, and the bishop’s eyes fell instantly. ‘Is this true?’ again asked the bishop, after a pause. ‘Perfectly,’ answered the priest in a hard voice. ‘I ask you whether, or not, you have thereby brought scandal on the Church?’ ‘I do not care.’ ‘M. Lindet, please to remember in whose presence you stand.’ ‘I am not likely to forget, monseigneur.’ ‘Then answer in a becoming way.’ ‘My Lord! I ask to see my accusers.’ ‘This is no public trial.’ ‘I shall not answer till they are brought here face to face with me.’ ‘I am your bishop. I insist on your answering me what I ask. You are contumacious, sir. You forget where you are.’ ‘That also,’ said Lindet, ‘I do not forget. I remember but too distinctly that I am in the house of a man notorious for his crimes, and whose hospitality you accept. I ask you, my Lord, whether or not you have thereby brought scandal on the Church.’ The bishop half started out of his chair. ‘This insolence is simply intolerable. To my face----’ ‘Better than behind your back. I tell you--the head of the Church in this diocese, the guardian of religion and morality--that you are outraging decency by lodging in this polluted den.’ ‘Leave my presence this instant,’ said the bishop. ‘Ponce! turn him out.’ ‘No,’ said Lindet, taking a chair, and leaning his hands on the back to steady himself, for his limbs trembled with excitement; ‘no, monseigneur; a charge has been brought against me, a slur has been cast on my character, and I ask to meet my accusers face to face.’ ‘Pardon me!’ The door opened, and Foulon stepped in, bearing some peaches on a leaf. ‘My dear Lord, I must positively offer you this fruit, the very last on the tree. I thought all were gone, but these are so luscious. Pray accept them.’ Lindet faced him instantly, with abruptness. ‘Monsieur Foulon, I am glad you are here.’