"I have heard of
the death of this unfortunate, drowned by her own imprudence, and I
comprehend the grief of M. Ferrand. It is not easy to forget ten years of
faithful services; such regrets do credit to the master as well as to the
servant."
"M. l'Abbe," said the notary, "I entreat you, do not speak of my
virtues--you confuse me--it is painful."
"And who will speak of them, then--will it be yourself?" answered Polidori
affectionately; "but you will be obliged to praise him still more, M.
l'Abbe: you perhaps do not know who is the servant that took the place of
Louise Morel and Madame Seraphin. You do not know what he has done for this
poor Cecily, M. l'Abbe, for so she is named."
The notary started from his seat, his eyes sparkling under his spectacles,
a burning red diffused over his livid face.
"Hush! be silent!" he cried; "not a word more. I forbid it!"
"Come, come, calm yourself," said the abbe, smiling benevolently; "another
good action to reveal? As for myself, I strongly approve of the generous
indiscretion of your friend. I did not know this servant, for it was just
after her arrival that my worthy friend, overwhelmed with business, was
obliged momentarily, to my great regret, to interrupt our relations."
"It was to conceal from you this new good action he meditated, M. l'Abbe;
thus, although his modesty revolts at the mention of it, he must hear me,
and you shall know all," said Polidori, smiling.
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