The abbe's anxiety on receiving this intelligence was so poignant that
he could not conceal it from Baron d'Escorval.
"You have heard something, my friend," said the baron.
"Nothing, absolutely nothing."
"Some new danger threatens us."
"None, I swear it."
The priest's protestations did not convince the baron.
"Oh, do not deny it!" he exclaimed. "Night before last, when you entered
my room after I awoke, you were paler than death, and my wife had
certainly been crying. What does all this mean?"
Usually, when the cure did not wish to reply to the sick man's
questions, it was sufficient to tell him that conversation and
excitement would retard his recovery; but this time the baron was not so
docile.
"It will be very easy for you to restore my tranquillity," he said.
"Confess now, that you are trembling lest they discover my retreat.
This fear is torturing me also. Very well, swear to me that you will not
allow them to take me alive, and then my mind will be at rest."
"I cannot take such an oath as that," said the cure, turning pale.
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