He looked at me with a wild incredulous smile. “Poor simple man of God!” he
said.
“I would not exchange my simplicity for yours--the dupe of envy’s first
malicious whisper!”
“Envy--you think that?”
“Is it questionable?”
“You would stake your life on it?”
“My life!”
“Your faith?”
“My faith!”
“Your vows as a priest?”
“My vows--“ I stopped and stared at him. He had risen and laid his hand on
my shoulder.
“You see now what I would be at,” he said quietly. “I must take your place
presently--“
“My place--?”
“When my wife comes down. You understand me.”
“Ah, now you are quite mad!” I cried breaking away from him.
“Am I?” he returned, maintaining his strange composure. “Consider a moment.
She has not confessed to you before since our return from Milan--“
“Her ill-health--“