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Updated: July 24, 2025
The road that he was following led across some public gardens beneath an avenue of trees, which, of course, at this time of the year, were leafless. This avenue was lighted here and there, and beneath one of the gas lamps Godfrey wheeled round to see Madame Riennes advancing on him out of the gloom.
This precious epistle, filled with malignity, reaching him in the midst of so many congratulations, struck upon Godfrey like a blast of icy wind at the zenith of a summer day. To tell the truth also, it frightened him. He had tried to forget all about Madame Riennes and now here she was stabbing him from afar, for the letter bore a Venice postmark.
Godfrey thought he heard him lock the door behind him, but was not sure. "Let us sit round the table and talk," said Madame Riennes. Thereon the whole party moved into the recess where was the flower-pot that has been mentioned, which Miss Ogilvy took away. They seated themselves round the little table upon which it had stood.
But to Godfrey, to whom, indeed, it was addressed, it brought much comfort, for in the Pasteur and his pure and beautiful doctrine, he saw a rock on which he might stand secure, defying Madame Riennes and Eleanor, and all the hosts of hell behind them. Then came dinner. It was towards the middle of this meal that Godfrey began to feel very ill at ease.
After all those years Godfrey recognised them at once; indeed subconsciously he had known who had touched him even before he turned. It was Madame Riennes. "Ah!" she said, in her hateful, remembered voice, "so my little Godfrey who has grown such a big Godfrey now yes, big in every way, had recognition of his dear Godmamma, did he? Oh! do not deny it; I saw you jump with joy.
"Au revoir, my young brother," said Madame Riennes, making some mysterious sign before she took his hand in her fat, cold fingers, "you will come again next Sunday, will you not?" "I don't know," he answered awkwardly, for he felt afraid of this lady, and did not wish to see her next Sunday. "Oh! but I do, young brother.
General confusion reigned in the midst of which Madame Riennes alone was calm. "It is haemorrhage from the lungs," she said, "which is common among poitrinaires. Brother Petersen, do what you can, and you, Brother Smith, fly for Mademoiselle's doctor, and if he is not at home, bring another." Later Godfrey heard what had chanced.
Professor Petersen had tried to fill his place as medium, with the result that when he fell under the influence, the only spirit that broke through his lips was one which discoursed interminably about lager beer and liqueurs of some celestial brew, which, as Madame Riennes, a lady not given to mince her words, told him to his face afterwards, was because he drank too much.
He has an unpleasant way of writing, this father of yours, although he is a good man, for here he suggests that I am trying to trap you for a son-in-law, wherein I see the fat finger of that witch Riennes, who has so great a passion for the anonymous epistle.
"Monsieur Boiset," he said, when they reached the street, "something has happened to me. I am quite changed. Not for all the world would I go near Madame Riennes again. Indeed, now I feel as though I wished to run away from her." "That is good!" said the Pasteur. "Oh! I thought it would be so, for I know how to deal with such witches. But not too fast, not too fast, my Godfrey.
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