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And they went away, Madame Delphine's spirit grown so exaltedly bold that she said as they went, though a violent blush followed her words: "Miché Vignevielle, I thing Père Jerome mighd be ab'e to tell you someboddie." Madame Delphine found her house neither burned nor rifled. "Ah! ma piti sans popa! Ah! my little fatherless one!"
"Madame," said Monsieur Vignevielle, "wad pud you hout so hearly dis morning?" She told him her errand. She asked if he thought she would find anything. "Yez," he said, "it was possible a few lill' bécassines-de-mer, ou somezin' ligue. But fo' w'y you lill' gal lose doze hapetide?"
"Seems to enjoy it," said Jean Thompson; "the worst sort of evidence. If he showed distress of mind, it would not be so bad; but his calmness, ugly feature." The attorney had held his ground so long that he began really to believe it was tenable. By day, it is true, Monsieur Vignevielle was at his post in his quiet "bank."
"Olive, my child," whispered Madame Delphine one morning, as the pair were kneeling side by side on the tiled floor of the church, "yonder is Miché Vignevielle! If you will only look at once he is just passing a little in . Ah, much too slow again; he stepped out by the side door."
You could retire from your business any day inside of six hours without loss to anybody." Monsieur Vignevielle raised his eyes and extended the newspaper to the attorney, who received it and read the paragraph.
The day had been long and fatiguing. First, early mass; a hasty meal; then a business call upon the archbishop in the interest of some projected charity; then back to his cottage, and so to the banking-house of "Vignevielle," in the Rue Toulouse. There all was open, bright, and re-assured, its master virtually, though not actually, present. At noon there had been a wedding in the little church.
"'Tis a good idy," responded the banker. "I kin mague you de troub' to kib dad will fo' me, Miché Vignevielle?" "Yez." She looked up with grateful re-assurance; but her eyes dropped again as she said: "Miché Vignevielle " Here she choked, and began her peculiar motion of laying folds in the skirt of her dress, with trembling fingers.
"Olive, my child," whispered Madame Delphine one morning, as the pair were kneeling side by side on the tiled floor of the church, "yonder is Miché Vignevielle! If you will only look at once he is just passing a little in Ah, much too slow again; he stepped out by the side door."
Monsieur Vignevielle looked in at no more doors or windows; but if the disappearance of this symptom was a favorable sign, others came to notice which were especially bad, for instance, wakefulness. At well-nigh any hour of the night, the city guard, which itself dared not patrol singly, would meet him on his slow, unmolested, sky-gazing walk.
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