They were not a pious
people, but it seemed that this priest had been exceedingly faithful to
them in their trouble, and when he had been obliged to close the church
for fear of the contagion, had visited them regularly, except in those
few weeks between the seasons when the road by the beach had been almost
impassable.
Caius was first aware of the advent of this welcome visitor by a great
thumping at his door one morning before he had started on his daily
round. On opening it, he saw a hardy little man in a fur coat, who held
out his hand to him in enthusiastic greeting.
"Well, now, this is what I call being a good boy--a very good boy--to
come here to look after these poor folk."
Caius disclaimed the virtue which he did not feel.
"Motives! I don't care anything about motives. The point is to do the
right thing. I'm a good boy to come and visit them; you're a good boy to
come and cure them. They are not a very grateful lot, I'm sorry to say,
but we have nothing to do with that; we're put here to look after them,
and what we feel about it, or what they feel about it, is not the
question."
He had come into Caius' room, stamping the snow off his big boots. He
was a spare, elderly man, with gray hair and bright eyes. His horse and
sleigh stood without the door, and the horse jingled its bells
continually.
Here was a friend! Caius decided at once to question this man concerning
Madame Le Maitre, and--that other lady in whose existence he believed.
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