"Then,--ah! ah! ah!--There was a bright fire in the fireplace--it was in the winter--in December--mother died--a bright coal fire--I took the poker--I let it get red-hot--and I made crosses on his back, eight or more, I cannot remember how many--then I turned him over and repeated them on his stomach. Say, wasn't it funny, papa? Formerly they marked convicts in this way. He wriggled like an eel--but I had gagged him so that he couldn't scream. I gathered up the bills--twelve in all--with mine it made thirteen--an unlucky number. I left the house, after telling the servants not to bother their master until dinner-time, because he was asleep. I thought that he would hush the matter up because he was a senator and would fear the scandal. I was mistaken. Four days later I was arrested in a Paris restaurant. I got three years for the job. That is the reason why I did not come to you sooner." He drank again, and stuttering so as to render his words almost unintelligible, continued: "Now--papa--isn't it funny to have one's papa a curé? You must be nice to me, very nice, because, you know, I am not commonplace,--and I did a good job--didn't I--on the old man?" The anger which years ago had driven the Abbé Vilbois to desperation rose within him at the sight of this miserable man. He, who in the name of the Lord, had so often pardoned the infamous secrets whispered to him under the seal of confession, was now merciless in his own behalf. No longer did he implore the help of a merciful God, for he realized that no power on earth or in the sky could save those who had been visited by such a terrible disaster. All the ardor of his passionate heart and of his violent blood, which long years of resignation had tempered, awoke against the miserable creature who was his son. He protested against the likeness he bore to him and to his mother, the wretched mother who had formed him so like herself; and he rebelled against the destiny that had chained this criminal to him, like an iron ball to a galley-slave. The shock roused him from the peaceful and pious slumber which had lasted twenty-five years; with a wonderful lucidity he saw all that would inevitably ensue. Convinced that he must talk loud so as to intimidate this man from the first, he spoke with his teeth clenched with fury: "Now that you have told all, listen to me. You will leave here to-morrow morning. You will go to a country that I shall designate, and never leave it without my permission. I will give you a small income, for I am poor. If you disobey me once, it will be withdrawn and you will learn to know me." Though Philippe-Auguste was half dazed with wine, he understood the threat. Instantly the criminal within him rebelled. Between hiccoughs he sputtered: "Ah! papa, be careful what you say--you're a curé, remember--I hold you--and you have to walk straight, like the rest!"